Thank you as always for the lovely reviews!
Back to the 21st century. Let's see how Helena gets on with a grown up Christina...
Chapter Four
After hearing what had become of her family, Helena wandered idly to the nearest chair and sat down heavily. They were in Victorian London. Why? What was in London for Myka or Christina? Would their presence there affect the timeline? Was that even possible? The idea went against everything she'd studied and discovered about time-travel.
She threw her mind back to those early, exciting days with the Warehouse; the danger, the exhilaration, the competition with her fellow agents, the drive to prove herself, and not just in the field. She had been wild in an entirely different way back then; conquest had been as much a part of her life as science and adventure; the chase yet another type of experiment she'd indulged in.
Then Christina had entered her world and suddenly everything had changed. Was Myka's existence in the same period significant to that pivotal moment in her life?
She had no recollection of a beautiful, green-eyed American or a young, charming eight-year-old though. Was time travel really possible or was there something else they were unaware of at work here? She supposed she wouldn't begin to know until she questioned their futuristic guest.
"I need to speak with her," she pulled her emotions in again as she stood. "Where is she?"
"Claudia sent her to the Pete Cave. Jason is keeping an eye on her," Artie answered as he reclaimed his chair.
Feeling all eyes on her, as if she was on trial, the redhead tapped her feet to a steadying rhythm. "She was really tired. I figured we wouldn't be doing anything until you got here so she might as well sleep."
"Fine." Still not sure how to feel, Helena didn't see the harm in letting their guest rest. She only wished she could do the same. "Artie, if she is who she claims to be, will the Regents allow me to take her home, or will they insist on keeping her here?"
Surprise crossed the director's face; he hadn't considered where she would stay full time. "You want her in your home after what she did?"
"If she is Christina then yes, of course I do. What reason would she have for deliberately hurting Myka and herself? There must be a logical explanation." She made towards the door and then hesitated as she neared it. Turning back to the worried faces watching her, she singled out her mentee. "Claudia, would you mind accompanying me?"
Desperate to help, the red head rocketed from her chair, following her idol out of the office and down the winding stairs. She studied the Victorian's demeanour from the side, noting with surprise that it wasn't as slash-hackery as she'd expected. In fact, it was almost calm, and not in that scary way it was when she was hatching some devious plan. "You feel it too, don't you? The Warehouse; it likes her."
Helena slowed her gait, glanced at her companion and nodded. "Though I'm unsure whether to be comforted by that fact or not. What does the Warehouse want with my daughter?" Her eyes tracked the ceiling and shelves as if the answer was waiting for her there. Eventually, she turned back to her friend. "Did she say much more than where she sent them?"
"Not really. She was wigging out at Artie for making out like she was the villain and falling asleep on her feet. It was like she hadn't really wanted to be a part of any of this but hadn't seen any other choice. Whatever's going on, she believes that what she did was for the best."
HG stopped and swallowed a spike of anger, her voice hard as she hissed, "How the bloody hell can any of this be for the best?"
The red head remained calm, reciting what she'd learnt from her 'niece'. "Look, HG; she says you and Myka talked her into it. She's following orders. Your orders. I think she just wants to do the best for her family."
Helena shook her head in disbelief. "I'm to believe that I authorised this?"
"Along with the Regents apparently. And your wife." Claudia smirked slightly at the raised eyebrow that met her words. "Would you ever decide to go along with something like this if you thought Myka or Christina would get hurt?"
Emphatically, "No."
"Then I think it's not too big a stretch to think that they're going to be ok," the young computer whizz reassured, trying to keep things optimistic.
"It doesn't matter how much I attempt to avoid this place, somehow it finds a way to drag me back in." Helena sighed as she started walking in the direction of the Pete-Cave again. "I just wish it would leave my family alone," she muttered to herself.
Claudia followed in silence, respecting the tentative control that the inventor was trying to maintain. As she watched HG approach the open doorway, she noticed her shoulders stiffen. Pausing by the entrance for several seconds, there came no noise but the turning of pages, and upon breeching the threshold, they found Jason curled up in a chair with a heavy book.
On seeing the two, he started from his seat, jumping to attention.
HG ignored him, letting her eyes drift to the far side of the room where a figure lay covered toe to chin with a tartan blanket. Her legs carried her forward of their own volition and she soon found herself staring down on the left side of a young woman's face. She could make out the nose, straight and narrow like her own, but either the blanket or the tumbled cascade of light brown that made up her messy fringe obscured the rest of her features.
Her brain recommended caution; there still was not enough evidence to confirm the thief's identity, but her heart leapt; she knew her child, knew as she had done after returning from Paris, that this person was an extension of her own soul.
Continuing to stare, the inventor listened to the whispered conversation across the room.
"How's she been?" Claudia asked Jason as she pulled him closer to the door. Having witnessed the exhaustion on CJ's face, she didn't want to wake her.
The new recruit stood stiffly, still very aware that he was surrounded by legends. HG Wells?! The HG Wells? was all he had said the day they'd been introduced and in hindsight he felt a little foolish for behaving like such a fanboy. Since then, he'd barely spoken to her, and each time he did manage to think of something to say, it came out garbled. Claudia was much easier to talk to.
"Restless. She hasn't woken up yet, but she's been tossing and turning, and talking about a cat, I think. Rick the cat?" He shrugged apologetically. "Other than that, it's been uneventful. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful."
"Not to worry Jay-Jay, you were only keeping an eye on her." She squeezed his arm, a gesture Myka had used on her several times to reassure her that she was doing a good job. "Head up top, Artie's bound to have something he needs everyone's attention on. Oh," she held him back before he could disappear and stared at him seriously. "And if he has any oat scotchies, save me one." She winked at him, enjoying the effect her teasing had on him as he relaxed and broke out into a grin. He returned the wink as he left.
Helena tore herself away to meet Claudia in the middle of the room. "What on Earth could make me do this?" she agonised aloud, searching the red head's expression for an explanation. "Forcing Christina through this trial and discarding my family to the annals of history?"
"Something big must have happened, or will happen. Little Padawan is all grown up," she gestured to the sleeping form. "She's all Matrix, with the leaping and spinning, so Jinxie says. She kicked all three of your butts without breaking a sweat. You've obviously taught her well."
HG shook her head. She was beginning to pace. "I don't care what could be happening, I would not knowingly put my child in danger. Forfeit my own life? Absolutely. But not hers!"
The increase in volume stirred the sleeper and she shuffled beneath her blanket so that she could face the source of the disturbance. One eye peering across the room, her gaze fell on the outraged form of her mother and unbidden tears filled her vision.
"Mum?"
Helena turned to the sound of a choked voice and felt her anger immediately dissipate. One look at the distraught expression on those familiar features and her instincts kicked in. She was across the room in the blink of an eye, squeezing onto the couch, her arms wrapped securely around shaking shoulders, shushing and stroking in an attempt to chase away the muffled sobs that fell against her chest.
"Shhh, love. I've got you," she muttered soothing words as she let short waves slide through her fingers. "You're ok."
A wet face rose to stare at her. "Mum, I'm sorry. I had to do it. I didn't want to hurt them."
"I know, my darling. I know." The inventor cupped her hands against tear-stained cheeks and wiped uselessly against the rivers of anguish that continued to fall. She placed a loving kiss against a pale forehead and pulled the young woman back into her arms, returning to the gentle rocking until the shallow shudders within them slowed and finally ceased altogether.
Perhaps it should have felt bizarre, to be holding the adult version of her little girl, but to Helena, there was no distinction; she felt nothing but a mother's love.
When it was almost quiet again, Helena pulled back and cupped her hands around each side of her daughter's face, wiping more effectively this time at the drying tracks bisecting her cheeks. "Look at you," she whispered in awe, smiling as a blush suffused the young woman's face.
How many years had she spent in bronze, imagining how her daughter would look had she lived? The image of a gangly teenager morphing into a confident young woman who would set out to explore the world? A scientist following in her mother's footsteps? An activist for equality? Even the performer to which the girl had aspired? Helena's thoughts had even turned to convention; a bride radiant in white and someday a smiling mother? Perhaps eventually, the doting grandmother of a small brood? Images that had haunted her, driving her to madness with the knowledge that it was impossible. Her little girl lay entombed in a coffin, forevermore to remain eight-years-old.
Yet now, here she was; that impossible image in the flesh; a gift of wondrous proportions.
"You are such a beautiful sight," Helena continued in the same awed tone, tears now gathering in her own eyes. For several moments, she just stared and explored the plains of the young woman's features, until a raw sounding chuckle burst from the time-traveller. HG smiled, letting her hands fall to join her daughter's. "I'm sorry, love. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just... There was a time when I thought..." she faltered, still reluctant to discuss the girl's death with her.
"When you thought you would never see me grow up," Christina finished for her. "I know, Mum," she added gently.
Helena sucked in a sharp breath. "I told you?"
A mousey-haired head bobbed up and down. "Yeah. I think Mama nagged you to tell me when I started asking too many questions that you couldn't answer without lying." A wry smile tugged at her upper lip, reminding HG of her lover.
Squeezing the hands in hers, the inventor sighed. "I never wanted you to have to think about what happened," she admitted.
"I had a right to know," Christina told her mother firmly before her tone softened and she added, "But I understand why you waited." She sighed too as her gaze appeared to drift, as if she were examining a memory. "I wasn't best pleased with you for a long while. Well... it felt like a long while. I apologise in advance for the hurtful things I'll say." The Myka-ish smile was back but there was a sadness behind it too.
"I'm sure I deserved at least some of it," Helena tried to placate the young woman, even as her daughter shook her head.
"You didn't. You don't." Her voice grew strong and adamant as she faced her mother. "I know you've made some terrible choices," she prefaced, wincing internally at the shadow that passed over dark eyes. "But you've only ever shown me love. You and Mama have given me so much. You only deserve the best from me."
The inventor swallowed the lump that rose up in her throat at the pride in her daughter's voice. The heartfelt statement lifted a weight that lay across her shoulders; despite past events, she would apparently be a good mother in Christina's eyes. There was still the question of her sending the girl on this convoluted journey though.
Shifting slightly in her seat to give them both a little more space, Christina straightened, looking more like the confident agent Helena had met in Hollywood. "The Warehouse is orchestrating all of this. I was merely chosen to complete its plan. To keep in motion that which it created." Her expression became sheepish as she caught sight of the frustration on her mother's face. "I'm not here to prevent a tragedy, only to ensure that our lives continue on the path that's already been written."
"You're not trying to change the past?" HG concluded doubtfully.
"I'm not entirely sure that the past can be changed. At least, not easily by us mere mortals." Christina paused to give the elder woman time to absorb this information then added, "I'm guessing that you're more interested in knowing what's happening to Mama though, right?"
"You were with her in 1890, before you were born?" Helena asked to check that she was putting everything together correctly, though she felt that the answer was obvious even before Christina nodded in response. "What can you tell me?"
The young woman spoke quickly, needing to get the highlights out before her mother could begin to react. "We discovered where we were quite quickly and then Mama had the idea that we'd travelled back in time. She bagged the artefact and discovered that it was dormant. We walked to the Thames and we were attacked by agents. They shot her with a Tesla-type gun."
Launched from her seat in agitation, tense hands swept shakily through raven hair. "Warehouse agents!?" HG's mind ticked over this nugget of information, anger rising from the depths. "Was I…?" She turned sharply back to her daughter, her fiery eyes demanding answers to questions that she struggle to complete. "Was she…?"
"No," the young woman interrupted. "You were away at that time. Up north I think. Great-grandpa Rupert came to the rescue. He took us home and a doctor looked after Mama. There didn't seem to be any lasting effects other than a headache."
Helena paced, her hands continuing to worry through her hair, finger nails scratching at her scalp in an effort to find a sense of equilibrium. Minutes passed before she could bring herself to sit down once more and consider anything other than one of her old colleagues attacking her fiancée.
"How is it that your great grandfather happened to be there? This is all beginning to sound a little too coincidental." Her gaze drifted across the ceiling. "The time, the place, the people; this is all the Warehouse's doing?"
Christina shrugged slightly. "I've given up trying to figure out which parts of my life are fate, chance or deliberate interference. It felt safe at your grandparent's house. I remember great-grandma telling me that you were a precocious child and that I was much better behaved." The twinkle in her eye and the quirk to her lip were back as she revelled in her mother's expression of surprise. "It was obvious that she liked the fact that you tried her patience though."
"You met my Norie? Myka met her?" Helena's expression softened as she thought fondly of her childhood idol.
"We stayed with them. Mama thought we would have to be careful to keep everything from them, but she overheard them talking about the Warehouse." She paused again at the confusion on her mother's face. "Did you know that they were Regents?"
Dark eyes narrowed. "No. Though it does shed light on many things now that I think about it." She huffed and ran her hands through her hair again, annoyed by the secrets kept from her, but seconds later a small smile tugged at her expression. "She was a sly thing. Precocious was I? I can't imagine from where I might have inherited that trait," she added sarcastically. Turning back to her daughter, she considered the idea of her partner and daughter meeting the Wells matriarch. A feeling of melancholy passed through her as she imagined for a moment being able to introduce them formally. "I wish you had known her longer. You were only three when their ship went down; you wouldn't recall her doting on you."
"Oh, I experienced my fair share of doting," Christina chuckled. "So much so that Mama had to have words about the amount of sugar I was allowed."
"That sounds like Myka." Helena smiled fondly, sighing at the renewed sliver of relief that settled over her. "Is there nothing else you can tell me?"
Christina hesitated, not wanting to over share. "Not much. We were there a few weeks I think, though the same amount of time didn't pass here," she added at the sudden expression of horror on her mother's face. "It was decided that I shouldn't be told all the details from the adults' point of view so that I wouldn't accidentally affect how events will play out."
"I don't recall you or Myka," Helena thought aloud. "I was never out on a curiosity hunt for more than a week."
The time traveller shifted in her seat as she prepared to drop another bomb shell. "You let them alter your memories."
A weight dropped into HG's stomach like lead. I knew Myka? I knew her and willingly forgot? "That can't be true. Surely I would never agree to give up any memory of her."
"Mum, not knowing if you might accidentally change events, you both had to make sacrifices to ensure that you could meet in the future. Remembering her could have potentially altered the timeline. You might have made an entirely different set of choices and never ended up in bronze. Neither of you were willing to take that risk." The young woman's sympathetic expression came from the heart, knowing herself how difficult a choice it was.
Only partially satisfied by this answer, the inventor frowned. "Am I not permitted to know my own mind now that the events are past? Is there no record of the memories we made?" the ever so slightly guilty look on her daughter's face confirmed Helena's suspicion.
"They're stored in the Regents' vault." She reached out to grasp her mother's hand. "They'll allow you to access them when Mama returns."
Up in the office, the remainder of the team sat on tender hooks to hear from below. Claudia had slipped in soon after Jason, explaining that the Wells duo needed time to get over their 'feels' before they could be bombarded with numerous questions. Artie though was getting impatient.
"I would like to point out that we have no way of knowing how much of that girl's story is true," the director grumbled from his desk. "How would it be if she was an imposter giving us some cock and bull story, wasting our time by appealing to certain people's emotions, in order to distract us from finding Myka and the real Christina?"
Pete stopped abruptly, his spinning chair screeching to a halt. "Is that concern for our beloved Machiavellian friend I hear?" He asked with surprise.
Artie opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the red head's snort. "I'm sorry," she held both hands up apologetically but the effect was ruined slightly by her smirk. "Machiavellian? Pete," she tutted, shaking her head. "Have you been reading?"
"No!" He reacted automatically and then reconsidered his response. "Well yeah, but not like that, just stuff y'know… About kids and school. I've been watching more 'Myka movies'. You know, the ones that try to teach you stuff."
"Fascinating," the director's sarcastic tone cut in again just as Claudia opened her mouth. "But none of this addresses my very valid concerns."
"Artichoke, unless you know of some artefact with the power to reveal identities without consequence for the person involved, then there really isn't much else we can do." The young computer whizz became serious as she faced their grumpy boss, showing him that, despite her candour, she understood his concerns and took them seriously. "HG isn't going to let anyone within a mile of that kid with a curiosity and really, we're likely to learn more from an imposter if she thinks we've all fallen for the ruse. Bluff and double bluff," she concluded.
"Hmff," Artie nodded, impressed with his protégé's reasoning despite himself. "And Agent Wells? Should she be warned?"
"I think HG is convinced already that she's who she says she is and I'm leaning the same way. It's in the walls. I wish you could feel how much the Warehouse is on her side. I think I should have a heart to heart with HG about the potential two-face-i-ness though." Claudia reassured him.
From the corner of the room, almost removed from the scene in front of her, sat the more sullen of the two new agents. She was bored and annoyed; when anything involved the uppity Brit, everyone jumped. Even her fellow raw recruit almost messed himself when introductions were made, but personally, she didn't see the big deal. For a woman of a century and a half old she was well preserved, and she knew how to knock shit together, but so what? From what she'd gleaned during Artie's frequent rants, the woman was a recovering megalomaniac who, not long ago, had come very close to wiping out most of mankind. Why did so many of her new colleagues part-worship the woman, and why were they all scrambling to accommodate her kid instead of slapping a pair of cuffs on her?
This job had seemed so exciting at first. She'd been a simple shelf-stacker before all of this. She kept in shape riding her bike to work and playing softball at the weekends, but she was no Bruce Lee. When Mrs. Fredrick had showed up at her apartment and told her to pack a bag, she'd assumed there would be some sort of adventure awaiting her.
Apparently, unbeknownst to her, she had an ability to sense the proximity and intensity of an artefact that was outside the walls of the Warehouse. All the times she'd leapt out of harm's way when something unexplainable happened was not just lady luck on her side, like Pete, she felt dangers before they appeared.
She wasn't into books or retaining information though. She worked from the gut. Her skills had no particular use when they were just sitting around waiting for shit to happen.
"So," she tumbled out of her chair and stretched. "While you're all playing time-detective- who-done-it, what do you want me and twinkle toes over there to do?"
The director looked at her like he'd forgotten she existed. She rolled her eyes, hurrying his thought process. "If you're clear with protocol, we could use the two of you in the field. There are always new artefacts popping up and cold cases to review, and if all else fails, there's inventory." He stared over his glasses at her, habitually daring her to protest.
"Miles and miles of inventory," Pete added teasingly. "Oh the joys you'll have. Just remember not to juggle with the pretty trinkets; they don't like it."
"Oddly enough, I think I had that figured out already," Agent Coombs retorted readily, rolling her eyes. Was he really that stupid? Surely no government agency would hire him if he was and she'd heard that he was ex military and ex secret service. She concluded that it had to be an act, but to what effect she wasn't sure. "I like sittin' around doin' nothin' as much as the next guy, but it's not the same without a joystick in your hand y'know? Don't answer that," she immediately pointed at Pete.
Turning to the others in the room, the director considered his options. Normally, with an agent missing, everyone would be all hands on deck, assisting in whatever manner they were able to. Agent Coombs' indifference was concerning; he'd never faced a subordinate like her before and began to curse the instincts that had led Mrs Fredrick to the stocky woman in the first place.
"Pete, I think it's about time our new agents had a review of artefact safety features, and it never hurts for you to remind yourself either," Artie finally decided. As a falsely enthusiastic Pete led Meghan and a dejected looking Jason away, the man in charge looked to the remaining member of his team. "I don't know what Mrs. Fredrick was thinking with that one," he tilted his head to the chair agent Coombs had recently vacated and rolled his eyes.
"I bet you thought the same thing when Myka and Pete turned up on your doorstep," Claudia commented knowingly.
"He had good instincts and she was very professional," he retorted noncommittally. "I wish I had her level head around right now. I'll tell you one thing though; I'm not sitting around doing nothing while we wait to see if they find their own way back. I'm going to find something to explain this whole fiasco. Even if I have to camp out on the Regents' front door."
"That works out rather nicely Arthur since we are of the same opinion." HG's voice preceded her through the door that had just moments ago seen three hurried departures. "We must gird for any event, and knowledge after all, is power."
Christina followed her mother closely, aware of the sudden scrutiny she was under. "I don't think the Regents know much more than we do at this stage, but they have access to Chaturanga's restricted journals and my great-grandparents' files from Warehouse 12."
"Your great-grandparents?" Claudia gawped. "HG's grandparents or…" She hesitated, suddenly unsure whether she should be raising questions of the young woman's paternity.
Sending an understanding smile the red head's way, Christina explained, ignoring the instant curiosity that drew her mother's intense attention. "I'm not offended by the subject of my… 'Father'," she hesitated, shooting an apologetic glance at her mother. "We became better acquainted during those few weeks in London. It's not something that I can talk about though. I was speaking of Eleanor and Rupert Wells."
Helena's arms were folded across her chest, her brows pulled together in a frown as she considered how Myka would feel meeting their daughter's other biological half. A distant mischievous thought regretted not being able to enjoy the jealousy that was sure to ignite the American's possessive side, but mostly, she just wanted to be there to assure her fiancée that no one else had a claim on their little girl. Yet another inner voice was curious to know who he was; to this day, she still couldn't recall his name or face, only now did it occur to her that this fact might have been planted into her subconscious by design.
"My grandparents were apparently more secretive and devious than I realised. I was always poking my nose into their business, it's a wonder that they managed to keep a secret like this from me. I have to wonder if either of them had a hand in my conscription." She leant, appearing more casual than she felt, against the frame of the door. "Grandfather was always returning from business with something imperative to discuss with Norie. They often disappeared to 'consult' with one another." She shrugged. "I always just assumed that they were popping off to do the bear."
"Mum!" Christina cried, horrified at the thought, automatically assuming the worst from the foreign phrase.
Claudia too blanched at the implication that came to mind. "I thought English Victorians were supposed to be kinda skittish about all that stuff."
Laughing, Helena appeared revived by the idea that she could scandalise her daughter and the red head with the sort of slang that had been common in her youth. "Really, I thought I was being somewhat reserved; I didn't think anyone here would be offended by the idea of a little cuddling."
"That's what that meant? Cuddling?" The techie relaxed. "You really should just say what you mean. I mean, I could have permanent neural scarring with the things that come to mind with phrases like that."
"Having enough mental scarring after growing up with two… active… parents, I second that statement." Christina returned to her couch and flopped down, her nap not having recharged her depleted energies yet. She ignored the somewhat proud expression that appeared on her mother's features. "So," she began with a more serious tone. "I was told I would just have to sit tight and wait this out, but I'd rather be doing something… Anything; to help. Are we thinking Regents?"
Remaining quiet and observant up until now, Artie offered his input, "I'm waiting for a reply from them. I think we may have a visit before the week is over."
With little else to do, Helena took a seat beside her daughter, smiling as the young woman immediately pulled her feet onto the couch and lay her head on her mother's lap. Christina had come from the future, which meant that she had to have returned from the past. It was all a long loop of past, present and future, and the idea of something happening to make the whole thing collapse was terrifying, but she had to believe that, as long as this young woman was still there, with memories of her complete family in the future, everything would eventually turn out well.