Here we go again! Hope you've all managed to hold onto your seats while waiting for my lazy fingers and brain to whip up another part to this saga.
As usual, I've spent hours agonising over how this next part has unfolded. I had planned more action, but it ended up as more of a metaphorical battle to deal with the fallout from the last part. I have tried to keep the underlying story moving along, so I'm hoping that you don't find it too slow. I'm fairly happy with it anyway and am ready to throw it out there for all to criticise... and enjoy, hopefully.
Rated M for violence, death, a few curses here and there, and maybe some adult antics. Warning for angst and adorable children.
Chapter One
There was something emboldening about facing a foe while surrounded by loved ones. Fear for their safety became determination to protect; anger at the threat became a fire pumping adrenaline; and the understanding of their unwavering love and support sparked a depth of faith that none could put asunder.
Sacrifices would be honoured. Those who'd already lost their lives for the cause would be remembered and mourned, but that would have to wait. Not one more could fall from their ranks and, as she took one final glance at the ensemble gathered behind her, she vowed to make a fact of that statement.
Ignoring any worried looks from the small crowd, she gathered the last of her strength and stepped boldly forward, disappearing into the dark heart of the Warehouse…
Eyes fluttering open and blinking away the already forgotten vision, Christina looked over her brother's convalescent bed, dutifully checking the monitors for any change. Satisfied that Freddy was stable, the future warrior stretched and rubbed crusty remains from her face, unaware of the mountains she had yet to climb.
Despite Myka and Helena's developing truce on the plane, the journey back to Boulder in the airport taxi was conducted in tense silence. Of the two passengers, one dreaded their arrival – where they would have to face a life unknown – and the other fidgeted impatiently – unable to contain the need to be with her children.
Thrice, Christina had contacted her mother to update HG on the situation. First, when they'd found Fredrick in the forest, again when they'd reached the hospital and a third time to reassure the regent that Fredrick was out of any immediate danger. Helena had found little comfort; she needed to see her children and feel their warmth to reaffirm the fact that they were real.
Without her wife's support, it was harder to keep her spirits up and focus on the positives. She tried to recall the sudden influx of feeling that Myka had pushed at her just before their connection began to unravel. The brunette must have known what was going to happen to her – must have anticipated losing any memory of their reconciliation since Egypt and wanted to send Helena a sign that Myka… her Myka… was still with her. It was a tether, however small, and she intended to hold onto it with every ounce of effort she had left.
On the other side of the back seat, sitting as far away from the inventor as was possible in the tight space, Myka stared out of the window and watched the strangely familiar scenery whizz by. After witnessing HG's distress on the plane, she realised that she was even more out of her depth than she'd first thought. No matter what Helena thought, Myka did care about the injured boy in the woods and the stressed young woman on the other end of the Farnsworth, but it was little more than the kind of caring she felt for all innocents when they were caught in the crosshairs of life's tragic events.
She needed space – to be away from the person who had torn her apart, to give her brain time to process the last two days, and to figure out her next move. Much as she knew that voicing her thoughts would hurt Helena, her still present feelings of betrayal and heartache pushed her towards more selfish choices. If there was a large dose of fear in there also, she chose to ignore it. Regardless of her negative tendencies at the moment though, she had seen a different side to her companion that day and her natural compassion made her want to approach the subject carefully.
"Someone should take the luggage back to… the house," she blurted more bluntly than intended. Though her voice was soft when her words finally made their way from her brain to her mouth, in the harsh absence of conversation, they sounded jarring.
HG heard the words but took a few seconds to process them. She became momentarily stuck on the barely perceivable pause before the words 'the house', as if Myka's brain hadn't known how to qualify their dwelling. A part of her appreciated the effort: 'your house' would have felt like a knife to the heart and 'our house', she understood, was too foreign to the brunette. Though it still hurt that simply saying 'home' was not natural to her companion. After over-analysing the syntax, she turned her attention to the question hidden in Myka's words – was she expected to be at the hospital with Helena or was it ok to escape for a while?
HG closed her eyes and fought back the tears. "Yes. Thank you," she answered, deciding to be kind. "I will likely not be home tonight, so feel free to help yourself to anything you need. I will ask either Pete or my grandparents to have Catherine overnight; you won't have to concern yourself with us until tomorrow." She meant the statement to be comforting but as she heard the words tumble from her mouth, she knew that they tasted bitter. A small, shuddering breath betrayed the struggle with her emotions and the pair fell into another awkward silence.
The tense atmosphere in the car was suffocating for both passengers and it was with profound relief that HG opened her door and stepped out. She gave the driver the details for his next destination, offered the other regent a half-hearted wave and jogged hurriedly into the hospital, slinging her handbag over her shoulder as she moved.
Much of the next fifteen minutes was spent trying not to abuse the hospital staff as she waited for them to tell her which room her son was in. As well as wanting to see him, she didn't want too much time to think. Images of her wife bombarded her – from the supportive determination as they began their mission, to the anger and hurt shot her way as Myka tried to make sense of her surroundings, and now the removed sympathy and detachment of a stranger. It hurt. In a way that she didn't yet understand, it hurt, and so she was deliberately trying not to think on it.
As she was given directions and hastened along the labyrinth's twists and turns to the paediatric ICU, she managed to force a lid on her spousal concerns and prepared herself for what she might find. Around the final bend, she spotted her eldest pacing the corridor and slowed her steps. The moment Christina saw her, HG opened her arms, offering the comfort and reassurance that they both needed.
"Mum!" the young woman gasped as she surged forward and fell into her mother's arms. She was all cried out so there wasn't much in the way of tears when they pulled back to look at one another, but she sobbed with tired relief anyway when the inventor reached up to wipe evidence of sorrow from her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I thought I had everything covered. I'd just decided to ask you and Ma to come home when… everything just happened so quickly and you were so far away…"
Helena watched her baby's face crumple and pulled her back into another crushing hug. Guilt, that she'd managed thus far to fight with logic, rose in her throat. "Christina, love, you found your brother, he's alive and safe. You did all you could and I have no doubt that you were wonderful."
"I should have made them stay at home," Christina murmured into a wrinkled shirt.
Leaning back again, the mother looked into the girl's sorrow-filled eyes and tried to impart a wisdom that had eluded her for years, "Love, we cannot let fear dictate our every action. When Myka first returned you to me, I was terrified. I could not comprehend a time that I would be able to let you out of my sight. If I had allowed that feeling to control me, the last fifteen years would have seen us all imprisoned beneath my fear." HG waited for Christina to process and come to terms with those statements before she moved on. "Is your brother awake?" she asked softly.
Shaking her head, Christina side-stepped to let her mother see through the door's window into Freddy's room. "The nurse gave him some painkillers. He's been asleep for about an hour."
"Let us talk inside then," Helena suggested. She squeezed her daughter's hand comfortingly and stepped through the double doors.
No amount of premeditation could have prepared HG for seeing her little boy lying broken in a hospital bed. Her heart leapt into her throat as she took him in and though she longed to throw her arms around him, she restrained herself and placed a loving kiss against his forehead. Her fingertips stroked through the wavy locks of hair that lay unusually limp and pushed them out of the way. Anger surged through her veins as each bruise and abrasion caught her eye. Fists clenched of their own accord, preparing for a fight, and she had to force them to relax. She felt Christina's eyes on her and sank into the chair beside the head of the bed, shoving hard on the emotions clambering over one another in the back of her mind.
"What happened?" Helena asked as calmly as she could.
On the opposite side of the bed, the eldest Wells-Bering child wiped her palms on the scuffed material of her jeans, opened her mouth to begin and then paused abruptly. "Wait," she started in a tone that filled her mother with mild trepidation. "Where's Ma?" She watched as the inventor froze before the regent's dark eyes filled with tears. "Mum? She did come home with you, right?" The churning that had already filled her gut bubbled up for an entirely new reason.
"Yes," HG answered woodenly. "She's taken our luggage back to the house." It suddenly occurred to her that she had somewhat promised Myka that the house would be empty and at that moment, she had no idea where her youngest child was. Panic snuck up on her again and wrapped its limbs around her. "Where's your sister!?"
Christina watched the dawning horror on her mother's face and felt a sudden clarity fill her. While she had been dealing with a lot at home, trying to protect her siblings, something bad – something very bad – had happened between her parents during their Australian mission.
"With Grandma Elle and Grandpa," she answered quickly, not giving the regent time to simmer in her worry. "Cat wanted to stay here – she had a bit of a meltdown when I tried to make her go home with Uncle Pete – but I managed to persuade her to go and look after the old people." She smirked a bit and congratulated herself for managing to elicit a tiny chuckle from her mother.
"Do not let them hear you say that," Helena cautioned. "Norie especially will take it as a challenge. The last thing I need presently is my grandmother climbing trees to make a point."
They both chuckled at the image but the sound was short-lived. "Mum, what happened? Why isn't Ma here?"
HG sucked in a long breath. "Your mother was affected by an artefact. In hindsight, I believe that we… that I… was lured out there by the promise of answers to my teleporting needs, and someone used the trip as an opportunity to place a wedge between Myka and myself." She paused to fight back the tightening in her throat. Her fingers twitched to pull through her hair but she couldn't even summon the energy to lift her arms. "Myka does not remember any of her life past the events in Egypt where I betrayed her."
"Oh, Mum," Christina whispered solemnly. The hollowness in her mother's voice made her want to jump up and pull the regent close, but a raised hand stopped her in her tracks. She read the signal for what it was – a plea not to agitate an open wound. At least, not in their current location. She ignored the little girl in the back of her mind, who wanted to know more: who wanted to know if her American mother had forgotten her too. Those answers would have to wait until later.
"Your turn," HG offered not unkindly, but with a firm finality.
Nodding, the young woman turned back to her brother and reached out to wrap her hand gently around his wrist. "I started getting these strange feelings – like being watched – shortly before you guys left," she began, the regret she felt clear in her tone. "I should have said something then, but I didn't really think much of it."
Helena nodded. "It is easy in hindsight to imagine that you should have chosen differently, but life is never that clear in the present moment, darling."
Tears gathered behind the young woman's closed lids. She had been so angry with herself for hesitating, and so afraid that her parents would blame her for Freddy's condition that, on hearing the absolution in her mother's voice, the weight of an anvil lifted from her shoulders. She scrubbed at her eyes and inhaled a shuddering lungful of air. Seeing the inventor shift as if to approach her, Christina mirrored her mother's earlier gesture, signalling her desire to be left alone, for now.
"Thomas called his team in and we made preparations. We had someone keeping an eye on Cat and Rick, looking for signs of anythingout of the ordinary. But we didn't know for sure that there was anything to worry about until yesterday morning." Her eyes drifted over her brother's prone form as she listened to her own words and recalled that feeling of uncertainty. It really had happened so quickly. Her siblings had already left for school and she had spent the rest of the morning with the team, planning their defences. "Yesterday morning, Aggie spotted a man in trees not far from the house. He saw her, so we think that's why he targeted Rick at school." She stroked over Fredrick's lower arm, wanting him to know that she hadn't left his side.
In her mind's eye, she still saw the vivid images of her brother's crumpled form lying unconscious against a tree – blood weeping from his shoulder. Her Uncle Pete had buckled under the power of his sixth sense seconds before they heard the gun shot in the distance. She'd been the first one tearing through the branches, with no consideration for her own wellbeing, in search of her beloved twin. Their lifelong connection grew stronger with close proximity and it took no more than a minute, maybe two, before she was by his side and doing everything in her power to remember her basic medical training while panic tried to consume her.
As she returned to the hospital room and looked over the bed at her mother, she took a moment to study the inventor's features – trying to understand what the older woman must be thinking and feeling. "We think Rick was trying to help a fellow student when the man took him. A girl was found unconscious behind the school kitchens."
HG's jaw relaxed just enough to allow a small smile before whispering, "My little heroes."
Christina felt no pride in hearing the compliment, but rather another kind of relief washed through her. "The doctors did a tox-screen and found traces of a tranquilizer in his system. It wasn't enough to keep him out for the entire time before we found him though; I think Rick had some time to play possum so he could prepare a defence and plan his escape. Tommy went back to the area and found a cabin not far from where we found Rick. It was empty but it's clear that it was the man's hideout."
All through the story, Helena's mind fought against the demons of her past. With every new piece of information that fell from her daughter's lips, a spark of rage tore through her limbs. She wanted to find this unnamed man and rip him apart, and every time she saw herself performing that very act, she recalled her own hands torturing the two criminals who had been responsible for Christina's death.
It had been so long since she'd had to face the dark depths of her own psyche that she felt weak in its presence. She automatically tried to reach out for her mate – to find her anchor – but the emptiness that met her in response just served to make her feel more lost and alone. How was she supposed to do this without Myka? "Where is this man now? Did you find out who he is and what he wants?"
The young woman shook her head, her eyes shining with frustration. "There was no one around by the time we got to Rick. Uncle Pete has borrowed your glasses, since you and Ma had the durational spectrometer, and he's gone back with Alpha Squad to track him."
HG's pursed lips betrayed the effort she was making to keep control but, with a violent expulsion of breath and stiff fingers dragging through her hair, she lost it. Rising from her chair, she stalked to the window and gripped the sill. "What on earth is the point of having trained combatants at our disposal if they cannot protect our family?" she complained before turning back to the room and planting her hands on her hips.
Christina bristled at the comment, feeling it as a personal blow; her boyfriend was one of those trained combatants and one of their best. "I couldn't have found Rick without them," she shot back defensively. "He might have bled out before we were anywhere near." She watched her mother's face contort painfully and took a breath to control her next words. Instinct told her that this was about more than just her brother. "Did Delta Squad not help you out while you were in Australia?"
Helena thought about waking up to find herself tied to a chair. She had been grateful for the fact that Myka was still with the squad, but in the end, they had been unable to protect her wife. "Yes, though I'm not sure what use it was." Realising that she was being petulant and venting her pain at those least deserving, she closed her eyes briefly and swallowed past the lump in her throat. "They were very helpful in getting your mother and me back to civilisation and on our journey home."
"They're not agents, Mum," Christina reminded the inventor kindly. "They're supplements; eyes and ears on the ground to feed back to us." She rotated slightly to point at the wound on her brother's shoulder. "Ark would have put himself in front of that bullet if he had been there, you know he would. Is this about Ma?" she added cautiously.
Under the strain of her thoughts, Helena's body seemed to collapse in on itself and her arms moved to wind tightly across her middle. Her misdirected anger dispersed like little more than ashes in the wind and the tears that she'd been holding onto broke their dam to run rivers down her cheeks. In a complete role reversal, she felt Christina's arms pulling her into the young woman's body and found herself clinging to her daughter as if she were a life-raft. Through her quiet sobs, she listened to whispers of encouragement and consolation, grabbing greedily at the comfort they offered until she began to feel her body calming.
Over her eldest's shoulder, she studied her son's profile and tried to imagine what her wife would tell her in a situation such as this. Fredrick was alive and his prospects for a full recovery were good; the girls were unharmed; and though Myka was struggling without her memories at the moment, there was no reason why she couldn't also make a full recovery, in time.
Myka had wanted her to hold onto hope, not lose herself to despair. All could not be lost.
As Myka paid the cab fare and grabbed both suit cases, she began up the driveway and took in her surroundings. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting but the large family house, complete with slightly overgrown lawn and white picket-fence, came as something of a surprise. This is all ours? she thought haltingly. She found her key, slid it into the lock and stepped through the portal with baited breath. The door clicked smoothly shut behind her and she placed the luggage beneath half a dozen hanging possessions before she began to explore.
Each new room seemed larger and more imposing than the last and for the first few minutes, all she saw was a stranger's home – somewhere she would never choose to live. But then, little things began to pop out at her: marks on the surface of the dinging table that appeared in a certain light to look like the scratchings of someone's pen; scuffs against the tiled kitchen floor, as if someone had repeatedly rolled something heavy around the room; felt-tip pen that remained faintly on the arm of a sofa; notes scribbled hastily on Post-its and stuck in seemingly random places; a haphazard pile of books almost hiding beside an arm-chair; and nearly clean, but clearly used wellies lines up by the back door.
Even if these clues were not present to evidence life lived in this house, the numerous photographs were impossible to miss. Downstairs, Myka deliberately avoided the images of the women exchanging vows and the professionally-shot family montages, but as she ventured upstairs and alighted on the landing, her eye caught an extended, wall-long display of memories-captured and couldn't help but move closer.
A timeline, she realised quickly and followed herself, Helena and Christina from outside the bed and breakfast, to a smaller house a few months later (still in South Dakota), then the arrival of a baby boy, Christmases and birthdays, wedding attire and a horse-drawn carriage, the arrival of a baby girl and seemingly endless further milestones – until she'd walked the length of the upstairs. The thought predominant in her mind was the impression that this was a blissfully happy family. Even in the pictures where no one was smiling (in particular, she looked back at the image of her and Helena crashed out in the same armchair, both wearing festive jumpers and looking exhausted), this was the perfect representation of her dream come true.
One question came swiftly to the forefront of her thoughts – could she trust this?
Photos would almost always showcase the best parts of life, so she knew that the story being told across the wall was only a fraction of it. Like the previews of a movie – these were just some of the highlights. She couldn't afford to pass judgement based on them alone. Aware that her eyes were becoming sorer by the second, she tore them away from the display and scanned the doors that she'd passed.
Opening them systematically, she peeked into one chaotic, but oddly organised room (which she decided after a moment must belong to the youngest, Catherine) and promptly closed it again. She repeated this process four more times, finding a teenage boy's room, a family bathroom, what she assumed was a guest room, and a slightly abandoned looking third room that could only be Christina's. Was it coincidence or a twisted kind of luck that took her to all of her children's bedrooms first? She opened the last door and again, automatically held her breath before stepping into her and Helena's room.
Once more, Myka was hit by a scene that she hadn't quite expected. After the clean lines and minimalist feel to the rest of the house, she had expected more of the same, but this was more… sensual?
Not that the rest of the house was cold, by any means. Though she still thought it was overly large, it was warm and perhaps more inviting than she was ready to admit. But the master bedroom was quietly opulent and she felt herself being drawn into it.
"I could really see us living in here," she whispered to herself as she began to move about the room.
Fingers slid over the velvety, crimson fabric of the bed-spread and curious eyes admired the familiar, intricately woven pattern. Where have I seen this before? she wondered briefly before moving on. A fainting-couch lay half under the window, its green leather looking soft and inviting while surrounded by a carved walnut frame. A well-presented bookcase sat on one side of it and a wide dressing table on the other. A door led into an en-suite (complete with rolltop bath) and a sliding-door wardrobe occupied almost an entire wall between the two entry/exit points. For someone who could only recall having recently kept all of her belongings in one room at a covert bed and breakfast, Myka was in awe of the apparent evolution of her situation in life.
Shaking herself out of her stupor, Myka quickly found her side of the bed and sat down. She pulled out the drawers of the bedside table and started to rummage around. As with her handbag, she found comfort in the accustomed things she kept close and in their habitual organisation. It was these small consistencies that allowed her to feel grounded and able to hold back the tide of panic that remained at the back of her thoughts.
Could this really be her life? She wanted to believe it. The depth of her pain in the wake of Helena's betrayal only existed because she loved the enigmatic Victorian. That hurt and anger was still very close to the surface, but those feelings existed in a web of confusion. She wanted answers and explanations. How could her lover have spent so many nights with her, intimately entwined and whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and still have made the decisions that she had? Was it her? Had Myka done something wrong or given off an aura of being unapproachable? In light of how their relationship stood now, perhaps she had.
Tossing aside the book that she'd idly picked up, she flopped back onto the bed with a grave sigh. Answers were not going to appear out of thin air and though she wanted justification from Helena, she wasn't ready yet to have that conversation. She couldn't help but notice how comfortable she found the surface on which she lay. As tempting as it was though, she knew she couldn't sleep here. The guest bedroom would have to make do, and then tomorrow, she was going to pack a bag and find sanctuary somewhere else for a while.
She wondered whether Helena was thinking about her now or if the inventor was too caught up with her son's situation. For seventeen years they'd shared a bed and now… But she couldn't afford to think along those lines; couldn't afford to fall into the pity-trap that led to neglecting her own needs. While Myka's absence might be sorely felt by the Brit, her angry, resentful, heartbroken presence could not be better, surely.
Deciding that lingering longer in this sanctuary would lead to thoughts and actions that she couldn't handle right now, Myka retrieved the luggage from the hallway, placed her own bag in the guest room and Helena's in the master bedroom. She grabbed enough essentials to last a week and closed the door firmly behind her, vowing not to cross its threshold again until she and HG had had a chance to clear the air.
For the rest of the afternoon and evening, she tried to pretend that she was staying in a guest house and spent most of that time between the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. Early in the evening, when she'd decided that she couldn't possibly keep her eyes open any longer, she finished washing up and began to turn out the lights. Before she could start up the stairs though, a muffled thud caught her attention and she was immediately on high alert.
She followed the sound of scratching toward the rear of the house and listened until she was sure that she had the correct door. After a minute of hearing her heart thump rapidly in her chest, another sound – a plaintive mewl – reached her ear and she let out a breath of relief. She opened the door and found herself eye to eye with a black, bushy-tailed feline. He studied her for a moment, his body frozen, until he apparently decided that she was friend, not foe and jumped down to weave his way around her legs.
Though she hadn't paid much attention at the time, she recalled Helena's short tale about the stray that Catherine had rescued from the wilds and how the girl had kept it hidden for a week in the children's old playhouse while feeding it scraps. She also recalled the grimace on the inventor's face, giving her the impression that accepting the animal as a permanent feature of the household was given under duress.
A mischievous thought came to mind as she recalled HG's grumbling regarding Catherine's persistent attempts to let the animal roam around the house, and after making sure that it had sufficient provisions, Myka deliberately left the door open as she made her way back upstairs.
If she considered her attempt at revenge at all juvenile or petty, it was a thought that didn't last long. Perhaps a little defiance was what she needed right now.
It was getting late by the time Christina reluctantly left Helena at the hospital with Freddy and drove over to the Wells residence where her great grandparents lived. She called Thomas on the way, caught up with him about his search for her brother's attacker and discussed Delta team's report on the mission in Australia. After hanging up, she was tempted to drive straight home, but then thought against it. Her Mum had been falling asleep in the chair by Fredrick's bed so she knew that her Ma would be crashed out too and Helena had cautioned her about disturbing the brunette too soon. Her own body was beyond sleep, with her mind still whirring at a rate of knots, but something told her that she too would be asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
Quietly, she crept into the Wells' house and hung up her coat. Feeling a little paranoid, she moved from one external door to another, checking the locks and surrounding windows. Out there somewhere was a member of Alpha Squad, still keeping an eye out for other threats. It eased her mind a little but not entirely. It didn't hurt to check the perimeter herself. With the house sleepily calm, she made her way upstairs, used the bathroom facilities and then entered the room that was usually reserved for her.
As predicted, once the lights were out and her head was encompassed by synthetic comfort, she began to drift. She could feel the entire week like a mammoth sitting on her chest and before long, disjointed images swam in her vision. Before she could get too carried away by the gathering storm of disturbed spirits, her external senses alerted her to another's presence and she jerked awake with a sharp gasp.
"Oh! Catherine," she whispered with harsh relief, "what are you doing still awake? It's almost midnight." Despite her irate tone, she moved aside to make space for the eleven-year-old and pulled the covers around the both of them.
Beneath the small canopy of the duvet, Cat's eyes shone with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. "I was waiting for Mum and Mama. Where are they?"
With that question, Christina suddenly realised how confusing and disconcerting the last twenty-four hours must have been for her young sister. Though having their mothers so far away was difficult for all of them, Catherine had shown remarkable resilience and had surprised everyone with her mature attitude. They had expected more tantrums to go with the occasional tear but, other than the tired outburst at the hospital, had received nothing of the sort. (At least they could always count on her being unpredictable.) Being dragged out of school in the middle of the day and bunkered up in their house while her brother was in unknowable danger was not something any of them should have expected her to weather without some sort of reassurance though.
"Mum's still at the hospital with Rick," the young adult replied gently. "Mama is at home…" She didn't quite know how to explain Myka's condition and wondered, hoped that the pre-teen might be too tired to enquire further, so she left her sentence open.
"Can't we go home then?" the girl pushed. "It's only down the road."
Christina threaded her fingers through her sister's hair, knowing that the touch would help to sooth some of those worries. If she was lucky, it might also hypnotise Catherine enough to send her to sleep. "Everyone's really tired, Kitty-Cat. I expect Mama is asleep and we would do well to rest up so that we can be up bright and early."
"Am I allowed to see Freddy tomorrow? Is he ok?"
The young woman smiled slowly. "Yes, we will see everyone tomorrow. Mum won't be very well rested after spending the night sleeping in a chair, so we're going to need to give her all the help we can, ok?
"Ok," Catherine whispered with a hint of enthusiasm.
"That means we have to sleep now," Christina insisted as she fluffed up her pillow again and face-planted into it.
A long moment of silent anticipation passed before another timid whisper came from the eleven-year-old, "Chrissy, can I stay here and sleep with you?"
A compassionate eye peered into the dark. "Of course, you can," she answered without hesitation and reached out to pull the girl closer. "I love you, little sister," she whispered into the nearest ear. "Don't you ever forget that."
"I won't," Cat whispered back. Several seconds ticked by and both sisters were on the cusp of sleep before another thought popped into the young girl's mind, making its way rapidly to the surface. "Chrissy?"
"Mmm-hm?" Christina grumbled patiently.
"I miss Spyder," Catherine confessed.
The aspiring agent chuckled. "I'm sure he's managed to find his way into the house somehow and is keeping your bed warm for you. I'll bet he is fast asleep and not keeping people awake," she added teasingly.
"Ok, sorry." The girl turned over so that she could snuggle back into the larger body of her sister and pulled handfuls of blanket close around her shoulders and neck. "Goodnight," came her muffled voice before she switched off completely and succumbed to sleep at last.
Though dreams threatened to drag her down, Christina resisted the pull for several minutes as a new thread of thought wove through her brain. She had promised her sister that they would see all of their family the following day, but would their Mama even want to see them? The thought that she might not made her stomach twist in knots and she was reminded of being an eight-year-old child, travelling back to the Victorian era with Myka, and meeting a young HG Wells who had no idea that she and her were mother and daughter.
As always, I love hearing your thoughts. Please review.