XI. Frontiers


Recalling exactly what was on my mind when I stormed into the Warehouse yesterday and for today as well, the second day in succession is no challenge whatsoever, for one person has factored heavily in my decisions as of late. Although in my defense on this day I was summoned by the caretaker himself. I must say the sight of watching Myka being escorted back to the Regents Chatelet this morning by senior Agent Crowley; a man thankfully I've had no dealings with due to his reputation, thoroughly destroyed what I would have preferred to have been the desirable event that I had wanted to occur after a quiet breakfast with Myka.

I want more time alone with her before I have to leave for Kent this afternoon, and in all honesty I simply desired another kiss from her. Because last night after my efforts to lighten the evenings turmoil Myka wished to retire for the evening and to my surprise was pleased with my suggestion of separate sleeping arrangements. So this morning after what Myka alluded to was a restful night of sleep I had hoped we would resume where we left off the previously. Instead all I was awarded by our circumstances was the apologetic look on Myka's face as she slipped her leather coat on, having already resigned herself that she had no choice but to depart with Mr. Crowley.

So here I am at the Warehouse at a half past two in the afternoon; standing in Caturanga's office, listening to reason, rationale from one of the higher powers.

"Agent Wells surely you know that Ms. Bering cannot remain with you at your home? The Regents and I allowed you both one evening alone with no intrusions due to the unveiling of Ms. Bering's memories that upon some forethought we felt would be emotionally taxing." Mr. Frederic says. "Furthermore, since you are on personal leave I would suggest you join your family in Kent for the remainder of what has been allotted."

I make no effort to mask my distain from Mr. Frederic, for I feel that it would be fruitless, since he is quite possibly the tallest man I have ever seen. In my estimation he is at least 196 centimeters tall he would see my reaction from anywhere, unless he were not looking at me at all which is not the case. Warehouse Twelve's caretaker is a man of a dark complexion and by the looks of him I would imagine his body to be made of sheer muscle under the dark grey suit that he is wearing today. It is anyone's guess what his true age is, but the man looks to be around his late forties. His voice though is the most commanding thing about him if you are not swayed by his stature. It's dark, rich tone paints the image of a forest of redwoods in my mind, which is the only way I would describe his voice to a person.

"I intend to leave as planned to be with my family, but I also need to be certain that Ms. Bering will still be here when I return and no harm will have come to her in my absence."

Mr. Frederic smiles so fleetingly that a less observant eye would have missed it, "Ms. Bering is here to stay as you should know by now Agent Wells. The Regents and I have no reason not to welcome her into our family; she was after all one of us, and we see no restrictions in not offering her a place amongst the ranks here if she desires such."

"And what of the possible ramifications that may arise out of her being allowed to remain in this time?" I say even though I do not care but one has to sound responsible even if their inner motivations are skewed. "Not that there is much that can be done short of..."

My voice loses all volume when my thoughts voice another option, one I will not say aloud, I cannot even fathom bringing myself to say 'killing her'. Which I'm certain is an option that the Regents had or rather likely still have on the proverbial table. I would never allow that to happen since the thought alone is sin enough. Mr. Frederic's stoic posture and expression have not changed in the slightest at any of my words. Not that I expect him to since he reminds me so very much of a great human pillar, one that essentially keeps the ceiling of this world from falling upon our heads.

"Agent Wells no one can see the future from here, much less do anything about it." Mr. Frederic says. "Ms. Bering was careful in her departure, and in her time you were there where you didn't belong and was clearly determined to be...unhappy."

I cannot in good conscience dispute his simplified claim about my future self's intentions, but it is still difficult to hear even though so many parts of my current self don't resemble that which I saw and consequently had become. I look around Caturanga's office and my gaze lands on his desk; particularly on an open file that bears Myka's name.

"Yes, Agent Wells we have a file started on Ms. Bering and we will be supervising her very closely for a time until it is no longer necessary." Mr. Frederic says while walking behind Caturanga's desk and then he swiftly closes the file. "I hope you will not take this personally nor Ms. Bering. But the Regents and I think leaving you both to your own devices is unwise given the predicament of an uncertain future that we all must now face."

I feel my hands want to reform themselves into tight fists. So this is Myka's reward; a life of being monitored and what of our rekindled relationship?

"Mr. Frederic while I understand that your concerns are valid and sensible, I cannot...let her go with not even the slightest hint that we will be allowed to see one another whenever we choose."

Mr. Frederic moves around the desk and clasps his hands together in front of his expansive frame, "Agent Wells I will not keep you from Ms. Bering, you must believe that. I understand all too well her reason for coming to this time and it was for the most basic and profound issue; her love of you."

I feel my eyes begin to cloud with excess moisture. I know that I am not in charge and I am merely an agent that serves the Warehouse, but for a moment in the rush of things I actually thought Myka had paid all the penance required in her old life and in this new one she would be granted a fresh slate. I want so badly for things to be easy for her, for she deserves it and more, we both do really considering our history.

"Agent Wells I can see the mischief of your thoughts playing out all over your face." Mr. Frederic says. "And I will tell you that there is no need for you to begin plotting Ms. Bering's emancipation."

"So I'm to get on the train to Kent and pretend that nothing is amiss?"

"I expect you to do as you see fit, just as the Regents and I must for this person who just appeared in all of our lives; a woman who won't officially be born until the year 1982." Mr. Frederic says. "Now is not the time for emotions to cloud one's judgment, now is the time for one to behave rationally, even Ms. Bering understands this and as you now know she is wise beyond the years her appearance suggests."

"I am well aware of those facts, Sir." I say while meeting Mr. Frederic's dark brown eyes, yet in this light I notice an amber ring around his pupil that I hadn't in our previous encounters through the years.

"Agent Wells, would it trouble you further if I were to tell you that you dead twice in the future, on two separate timelines no less?"

Some of the fight drains out of my body at his words, which I know in no uncertain terms that they were meant to provoke me in this manner.

"What...how is that at all possible? I know that I died of very old age in the future, even though I certainly did not physically resemble my almost one hundred and sixty three years to be precise."

Mr. Frederic shifts his tall frame slightly, "The Paracelsus event Ms. Bering described was only the tip of the ice berg with what we saw once we collected all of her memories; not just the one's she allowed us to see. Magellan's astrolabe was used after Warehouse Thirteen was destroyed in an explosion, an explosion caused by a man corrupted by an artifact and also an explosion that you sacrificed yourself for in order to save Ms. Bering, her partner Agent Peter Lattimer and senior Agent Arthur Nielsen."

"You saw these things?"

"The bond I share with the Warehouse's Eldunari affords me certain powers that most caretakers have shied away from, for the age old fear that power corrupts and some it in fact does." Mr. Frederic says. "The Warehouse and I carefully extracted those subconscious memories from the timeline Ms. Bering herself most likely does not remember and she is certainly better for it, wouldn't you agree?"

Yet again more knowledge that would strain a lesser mind. Although I have an impression that Myka is all too aware of the timeline she isn't supposed to remember, but I will not mention any knowledge of it to her unless she asks me directly; even though I intend to have no secrets between us. I know any further protests will not yield a favorable result, therefore since I see no other viable options I have no choice but to accept the hand Myka and I have been dealt. For now.

"Yes Sir, and I apologize for my rash behavior earlier."

"Do not worry yourself about that, Agent Wells. I completely understand; fate it seems has an eye on you both, for even time itself cannot stand between you." Mr. Frederic says with a faint smile. "To be perfectly honest with you, I too am impressed by her and I have already made the offer to her of once more becoming an agent, only for Warehouse Twelve this time." He pauses and shakes his head. "You know I saw my youngest daughter Irene recruit Ms. Bering all those years into the future."

I cannot help but be calmed by his statement; as he intended of course, and I also smile at the obvious pride in his voice at that last statement. I look down at the floor to hide this reaction from him.

"The Warehouse is the best place for Ms. Bering really, in any capacity that she so chooses, for everyone needs a purpose." I say but my words fall to an absent audience for when I look up.

Mr. Frederic is gone, and the familiarity of this action makes me smirk. Walking out of Caturanga's office I begin to hear the faint traces of Wolly and Doyle's voices along with a female voice; all of which are mingling and carrying out from the sitting room just down the way. I walk briskly for I know that voice and even though it's only been a few hours I have missed it dearly. As I move towards the Warehouse's sitting room; where most of us agents wait while files for our missions are being prepared, I hear Doyle's voice competing for volume with Ms. Bering's and the latter tone of voice makes me smile on impulse. I move towards Myka where she is seated in an old wingback chair that I usually favor when I'm in here.

Myka's eyes find mine and I smile; Doyle nods his greeting to me as does Wolly, they are both seated on the settee adjacent to Myka. I find that I am in no way shocked that Doyle had befriended Myka. As it turns out they began exchanging pleasantries while I was driving the carriage when we all met that night, and they have continued to speak to one another during Myka's trials of sorts. Myka confessed this to me last night after both of our tears had dried and we were both eager to discuss something lighter in topic.

It is of course rational to me that Myka would be enthralled by another writer, and a Warehouse agent as well as a charming man of many skills. Now though upon observing them together I must say I wasn't prepared for the natural rapport that has developed between them; not to say that I'm envious or anything of the sort. I will not carry that affliction mostly due to the fact that I know Myka's true feelings towards me, and emotions of that magnitude is what I imagine has inspired a great many poets, wordsmiths and even fiction writers like me through the ages.

"Tell me something, Ms. Bering." Doyle says. "In the future do my books ever find an audience? I know Wells here will never want for readers since she is and will most likely always be ahead of the times."

"Please call me Myka and yes your books will be celebrated, in fact your stories are still popular in my time...Sir Arthur Conan Doyle." She says and then smiles directly at me. "And yes, H.G. Wells is still as relevant as ever."

I smile back at Myka before I look to Doyle who is oddly silent, but I watch as his eyes open wider, "Sir? You mean to imply that I will be knighted at some point in the future?"

"This won't hurt anything, but yes specifically on October 24th, 1902 by King Edward VII for your services to the Crown during the Boer War."

"Services during a war?" Doyle says. "Good Lord, don't tell me that I will be gallivanting off to war at the age of forty-two?"

"I can't tell you any more than that," Myka says with a chuckle. "Ignatius."

Doyle laughs as do Wolly and I, for I wasn't aware of any other middle name.

"You play most unfair madam." Doyle says. "But you are one to talk my dear Ophelia."

"You know I used to punch my partner Pete when he teased me about my middle name." Myka says while narrowing her eyes at Doyle which makes me chuckle. "I'm only sparing you because well you're a really famous author who I read as a child and I can't bring myself to hit you...yet."

"Should I be offended that you just admitted to reading Doyle's works of fiction?" I say only now feeling the need to actively participate in their conversation.

Myka turns her attention away from Doyle and smiles at me again, "No, you shouldn't because I've read everything of yours too. My father used to read me some of your stories when I was little; I grew up listening to your words."

If it were not for my partner and friend in the room I would walk over to Myka and pull her up to me so that I may kiss her soundly. In this moment I do not know if I will be capable of telling her good-bye even if it is only for a short while.

"Oh God Ms. Bering, I mean Myka. I do wish you hadn't told H.G. that." Wolcott says with a smile. "Her ego already barely fits through the Warehouse's front doors."

Doyle laughs and I do as well, for it is a welcome distraction from the state of flux my thoughts have been in for several days now.

"Wolly, a lady is entitled to her pride just the same as a man, but speaking for myself as a lady I have been informed that I am better than most men at a great many things."

"H.G. really!" Wolcott exclaims and Doyle and I share a chuckle at my partner's expense.

Myka is amused but I catch a reddening upon her cheeks just as she turns her head to hide it from this room's many sets of observant eyes.

Doyle rises off the settee and collects his hat off the small oval table just opposite it, "Wolcott and I thought we would bring our new friend Myka out to see you before you left. I trust you don't mind our initiative to help you both?"

"Of course not it was extremely kind of you, Mr. Doyle." I say as Myka turns back to look at me once more.

"Good then." Doyle says while he places his hat upon his head. "Wolly and I must be off now; a curiosity is calling our respective names."

I smirk, "What exactly have you two been assigned to investigate?"

Wolcott sighs, "A burlesque show. It seems that there is a...fatal corset or God knows what, because Doyle has been withholding the details from me since we were notified an hour ago."

Doyle snickers and I see that Myka is also thoroughly amused but she clears her throat and shifts in her chair to address Wolly.

"Isaac, don't feel bad in my time at Warehouse Thirteen I had to snag and bag a pair of men's workout shorts." Myka says with a smile. "They manipulated a person's density; making them stronger, faster. But the downside was that after you wore them...well let's just say the person would end up flattening everything in sight, including themselves eventually."

"Surely you jest?" Wolcott says. "No wait, what the devil am I saying of course that's true."

It seems almost foreign to me to hear Myka address Wolly by his first name. Lord knows I mostly call him by the nickname I bestowed on him.

"Myka, I have enjoyed talking with you and I hope to do so again," Wolcott says rather shyly. "And you may call me 'Wolly' if you would like to."

I cross my arms over my chest and lower my head to mask the smile that I cannot stop from springing forth, for I find it rather endearing that my partner has a minor infatuation with my intended. But I am not of the jealous sort and Wolly is harmless, and truthfully it is apparent to me that his interest is from a place of respect and awe; perhaps some romantic inkling have flitted about his thoughts, but knowing him it is plain to me that the majority of his intent lies within the realm of friendship.

"It was nice talking to you again Wolly." Myka says with a smile while offering her hand which he takes in his briefly.

"Good luck, and I do hope you consider being an agent with the rest of us." Wolcott says and I look up in surprise at Doyle who simply shrugs.

Wolly scoffs, "Oh, don't look so surprised H.G. I shall have you know that I am good at snooping, just not at your place of residence."

My partner smiles shyly at Myka as he rises out of his position on the settee. A silence lingers in the room and as Wolly bends over to retrieve his black hat from where Doyle had placed his. I hope they haven't gotten their hats mixed, for it would be an easy feat since they are indentical in color and shape.

"Come on Wolly lets leave these lovely ladies alone." Doyle says and Wolly scoffs and places his hat on his head rather roughly. "And go pester some partially unclothed ones."

"You sir are still not funny." Wolcott says and we all repress a chuckle once again at my partner's expense.

"I will not even beg to differ with that false accusation, my good sir." Doyle says as he and Wolcott move past me at the center of the room. "H.G. and I are quite the humorists and you Wolly are our favorite bear to poke with a stick."

I watch after my two friends; smiling as I listen to their bickering until they are out of sight and my range of ability to hear them.

"They are fun to be around." Myka says and I relax my almost sentry position and walk towards her. "I can't say I'm surprised that the Arthur Conan Doyle is funny. I mean in his books Sherlock is funny, but not in the same way Doyle is. You know in a way Holmes reminds me of you, Helena."

I chuckle and shake my head as I stop my advance on Myka. I am close enough that she will have to look up at me now from her still seated position.

"I was informed only a little over a week ago now that I am Doyle's muse on the character of whom you speak."

Myka laughs while she glances up at me, "That's really...flattering Helena if you really think about it and trust me when I say that Sherlock Holmes is a cherished character in fiction." She pauses and bites her lower lip and I'm transfixed by the small action. "I just realized that what happened at the Borley Rectory with the Black Shuck will influence his most famous Holmes novel."

"I know, Doyle informed me that very night he intended to write about our adventure."

Myka chuckles and rises out of the seat and closes the remaining distance to stand in front of me; leaving only a small wisp of space between our bodies.

"Do you want me to tell you what the title of his book will be?" Myka says while reaching for my hands, and I glance down at the contact before looking up to meet her affectionate gaze.

"That won't be necessary." I say and the outright want I hear in my voice is startling, but we have much more important matter's that we should be discussing. I take a step back from her but I do not let go of her hands. "Myka...I have to leave."

She nods and closes her eyes then simply leans forward; my eyes close on anticipation of a kiss, however what I feel is not her lips but her forehead meeting mine.

"I know Helena."

"Wells, your carriage is here and Caturanga will be accompanying you and Ms. Bering."

It takes a second for me to recognize Agent McShane's voice. I have been so distracted by Myka that I did not hear his arrival nor his departure, for when I open my eyes and turn my head away from her; he is nowhere in sight. With a few changes of clothes already packed and loaded on board of the carriage all that remains is saying good-bye. That thought triggers an unpleasant memory of Myka's that I now carry as my own, just like my counterpart in the future.

I know she exists still because I do not elect to be bronzed until a little after my thirty-third birthday and I have absolutely no intention of partaking in that to ensure a future that nobody wishes to see; least of all myself and Myka. She of course came home with me but we weren't left alone. Caturanga was with us at every turn until I excused myself to dismiss the maid and cook for the next few days. I surmise that my teacher is here to see me off and to ensure Myka's return to the Regents custody.

"Where is Myka?" I say while descending the staircase. "You've not taken her away already have you?"

Caturanga simply looks at me with a fondness and I see my conflicted reflection staring back at me from the lens of his glasses, "Ms. Bering is waiting outside and I thought I would wait in here; inspect your marvelous chessboard once again, to allow you both some privacy to say good-bye."

My teacher has never failed to strike me as the most understanding person I have ever encountered; next to Myka now of course.

"Thank you."

"You are most welcome my dear." Caturanga says while walking past me; heading towards my parlor. "And not to worry I shall lock up for you."

I turn away from the sight of Caturanga fixated on my chess table; his scrutiny of the pieces lit only by a few small candles. I inhale deeply while straightening my vest and pull down the sleeves of my shirt. I collect my overcoat from its perch and pull it on over my frame. I have told myself over and over that I am not telling her good-bye, because it is not as if I have no intention of returning.

Now I almost wish I hadn't sent my daughter away with my brother, but this is the time of year when we normally visit our relatives and the home both Charles and I were born in. If Christina were here I would have already allowed Myka to meet her, but I was being cautious with someone I regarded as a stranger; not to say that my actions are suddenly wrong. It has been almost three days since I have seen my daughter and I miss her terribly, but I have someone new in my life that I have already begun to miss and we've yet to part.

Having gathered my resolve I twist the doorknob and pull the front door open. The evening air is frosty already and the sun has yet to set, and it's in this dying light that I see Myka waiting for me by the carriage. She turns to look at me and I am treated to the most beautiful smile I have been on the receiving end of as of yet. It brings with it a memory that was given to me by Myka: 'You will never lose this friend,' I assured her even though the look upon my face screams to me that 'friend' is not the word that my future self was thinking or feeling, and to my relief though I see no tears in Myka's eyes for me in this time.

As I move down the steps she laughs nervously as I draw nearer to her, but her eyes never leave mine.

"Helena please don't look so sad, even I know this isn't 'good-bye'; it's more like 'I'll see you later'."

Myka has such a lovely voice and in our brief time together it has never failed to soothe me; this is no exception. Still though I have no words to offer her except one's that I know she will not warm to, but alas as I stop in front of her I realize that I must ask even though I know the answer to my request.

"You could come along with me if you like. I could possibly convince Caturanga to allow you." I say while my hands begin to fidgit in my nervousness. "My family will be meeting you at one point in time. So why ever not now?"

Myka moves closer to me and takes both of my hands in hers; stilling them, and I find myself being drawn into the boundless compassion that is simmering and enhancing the green of her eyes.

"You need more time to process all this and more importantly you need to see Christina." Myka says. "I'll be here when you get back, Helena."

"Myka I am not like her; this is hard for me and I have only known you a short while." I say while feeling the threat of oncoming tears. "How my future self could have let you go after knowing how wonderful you are, for years are beyond what I can rationalize as sound judgment."

"Helena please don't cry." Myka says. "Not that I don't love seeing this side of you too because I do. It's just too many tears have been shed already and I can't cry about it anymore; neither should you, so go be with your family."

Next to being willfully ensnared by her eyes I am also drawn to the warm smile that has diverted all of my attention to her lips.

"No more tears then." I say while pressing my body into Myka's while bringing my hands up to touch her face. Her breath stills and even though the cloak of dusk is hiding us away from prying eyes, I know that her action is born of fear; not that this good-bye, but the fear that this rings so close to the many other times we have had to bid farewell to one another. "Myka breathe and for God's sake please kiss me."

Myka laughs and I feel her arms around my waist as she pulls me to her for a sweeter means to an end. My eyes close as my world tilts on its axis to better connect with her's, or at least that's what I am likening the feeling of kissing her to. A firm insistence, yet a soft yielding press and I will myself not to deepen the kiss with the use of my tongue. It is difficult to focus on any one thing to tide me over until I return to her, but one thing I will carry with me is the warmth in my chest that merely thinking of her name brings. Moments like these cannot last forever; even if such a notion were at all conceivable. So with one last tug on her bottom lip I free us but I am still bound; willingly so, as three words want to come forth.

"Don't say it now, Helena." Myka says and her lovely voice breaks ever so faintly on my name. "When you see Christina and the rest of your family, the shock of this will wear off and I really hope it does."

I smile and run my hands along her shoulders; feeling the smooth leather under my touch.

"Are you already presuming to tell me about my heart, darling?"

Myka smiles in understanding and for me it is refreshing to know how completely she does know me, even when I am being less than serious with my words.

"No, not really." Myka says. "I would just like to start over with you and make everything as easy as it can be this time around." Her words are but a breath passing across my lips before she leans in to kiss me once more and it is far too brief for my liking but it is getting late. "I'll see you when you get back."

It is with great reluctance that I pull my body away from her's and climb into the waiting carriage; with the horses themselves eagerly sounding out their impatience at me with an occasional stomp and nicker. I sit down on the bench and close the door, and then with a slap of the reins from the driver the carriage begins to move. I try to force myself not to look out the portal but it is a fresh promise that I cannot keep. I reach out and push aside the privacy curtain so that I can watch Myka becoming smaller and smaller on the sidewalk in front of my home, until she is gone for now.

There is no doubt in my mind that she will be waiting, but as my carriage turns a corner a memory of Myka watching my figure fade in the night flashes to the front of my thoughts; only this time it is me leaving her in the diminishing light of the evening. But Myka is right again and more so that she should be, after all she has seen more than I have in my twenty-eight years upon this Earth. I hope that once I'm on the train to Kent that maybe its steady countenance will lull me into a peace. Not that I wish to sleep during my journey, for I feel so different about the notion of being awake; now that my eyes have been shown a greater sight than the horizons I had grown accustomed to.


Soundtrack: "Laying Down The Law" by Inxs, "Wonderwall" by Oasis & "Change The World" by Finger Eleven

Parting Words:Special thanks go out to john6lisa for being this story's biggest supporter. More to be delivered for you my friend and everyone else along on this ride, which by the way I appreciate just as much too.