Well, it's finally here; the end of the school year! Thank you so much for your reviews this week, they've really boosted my energy reserves. My brain feels like a wrung sponge so thank you too for all the reassurances that this story is still plodding along nicely.
I'm ready to kick off the summer in style, camping at the lesbian music and arts festival in the midlands. Am hoping to find the atmosphere relaxing and inspiring enough to write lots!
Meanwhile, here's something for you guys. Back to the 21st century to see how HG and Christina are getting along...
Chapter Eight
After spending the night alternating between tossing and turning, and being unable to wake from dreams that bordered on nightmares, Helena sat at the breakfast bar in her kitchen, a cup of tea between her hands, listening to the hum of the fridge and waiting for her nineteen year old daughter to wake up.
Mrs. Fredrick had appeared during their debate with Artie about involving the regents and confirmed that Christina was under Helena's care and free to return to the Bering/Wells house until further notice. Neither of them were to leave the area without permission and the younger time traveller had to be supervised if she decided to leave the house. HG chaffed at the order - not because she had plans to go anywhere while Myka and little Christina were missing, but because it was the usual condescension she expected from the Warehouse magnates.
Had Norie and her grandfather been the same way? Were the restrictions she'd endured early in her Warehouse career dictated by them? Christina had still been very young when they decided that a trip to America was in order and news had returned of their ship finding its final resting place on the Atlantic's bed, a stone's throw from Boston Harbour.
Had that really happened or had their journey been more about scouting out new locations for Warehouse Thirteen and they'd just decided to spend their remaining years in that new land? Perhaps the telegram conveying a stranger's condolences had been their way to cut clean ties and not leave their loved ones wondering after their fate.
Expect, now Helena was wondering and she was hurt that, the woman who she'd loved like a mother, had lied to her.
Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, HG tried to pull something, anything from her memory that might relate to what was happening with Myka and their little girl. The harder she pushed though, the foggier the images seemed to get. Eventually, she conceded that there was an artefact at work. It was like the Janus Coin and Emily Lake scenario all over again. At least she didn't have a cat this time.
Giving up on her stolen memories, she recalled the previous evening and the awkward silence she and Christina had endured before the young woman began to stammer another apology and Helena pulled her into another hug to try to prevent the inevitable flow of tears. She couldn't stand to see her daughter cry, not when it was for a genuinely lamentable reason, and apparently that wouldn't change at all as the girl got older.
Heaven knew what she would be like when the other two arrived and there were three of them. This stray thought caught her by surprise. How did she still have hope? She shook off the question and turned her thoughts to the young woman on the floor above.
As she began again to agonise over her future and the decision she would make to send Christina on this journey, dull footsteps plodded down the stairs and the young adult in question shuffled into the kitchen.
Helena watched her struggle in vain to tame the mop of wavy locks on her head and considered briefly whether the colour and cut had been a fashion choice or whether it had been specifically for this mission. Deciding that the reason was irrelevant, she waited until Christina was sat down before reaching over to ruffle her hair into further disarray.
"Oi!" The young woman ducked out of the way as her mother made a second, more concerted swipe. "Bloody-hell, Mum. It's too early. I need coffee," she grumbled as she leant her elbows against the cool counter top and pushed fingers into her hair.
"I made a pot of tea," HG informed her, sounding mildly disappointed.
CJ nodded mutely and then caught the expression of distaste on her mother's face. "What?"
"You actually like that vile, black liquid?"
"I put cream in it," she defended. "Come on, Mum! Plenty of people in twenty-first century England enjoy coffee."
Straightening and tossing her head imperially, Helena sniffed. "It will never replace a good cup of tea."
Christina rolled her eyes and grinned to herself. She tipped off her stool and wandered over to the cabinet nearest the percolator. She found the ground coffee but paused to watch her mother's reaction as she said, "Maybe not, but no matter how much you complain about it, I know you like it for at least one reason."
"It'll be a cold day in hell before I agree to such a preposterous accusation," the inventor insisted but after a quiet moment of her daughter gazing at her knowingly, she sighed and then waved an arm in the air. "Very well, illuminate me."
"You spent a whole year researching the perfect cup of coffee. You bought several machines and dismantled them in your workshop, figuring out the mechanics." Christina folded her arms across her chest and smirked at the astonishment staring back at her. "Finally, after weeks of smelling burnt coffee, you took Mama breakfast in bed, with the finished product."
Helena realised that her mouth was hanging open slightly and snapped it shut. "I... well... did she appreciate it?"
CJ rolled her eyes, remembering clearly the heated looks her parents had thrown one another that entire morning. "I'm just glad it was a school day. You both looked exhausted by the time we got home. I don't want to know how much noise you made." She winced and shook her head of the thought. "You still get this little smile at the corner of your mouth when you watch her take that first sip. Mama reckons you should patent it. It's the quietest, most reliable machine ever made, but you won't because apparently, it's one of a kind, like her," her tone softened as she smiled and shared the moment, appreciating what their family meant to them.
"Well, anything to make Myka happy," HG concluded, breaking the near silence.
Christina finished fiddling with the machine and leant back against the counter as she waited for the coffee to brew. She took a moment while Helena was immersed in her thoughts to study her mother.
She couldn't help noticing that, though this woman was more than a decade younger than the one she knew, at that moment in time, she looked so much older. CJ saw the effort her mother was making to be strong, to hide how much her daughter and Myka's absence was affecting her and knew that was the reason for the ageing effect.
Giving the inventor a few moments to herself, Christina remained silent, waiting until she had her own beverage in hand and a refill for her mother before approaching the breakfast bar again.
"They have to return you know," she said with as much conviction as she could muster. "Otherwise I wouldn't still be here."
Sipping from her fresh cup and savouring the heat, HG nodded but raised an eyebrow at the attempt to assuage her. "Unless they are able to create an alternate existence."
"This isn't Star Trek, Mum," Christina responded, rolling her eyes slightly. "Besides, they still have to return here for me to be able to return here to start the whole thing going again. When I come from," she prefaced, grinning a little at the deliberate choice of words. "You've already lived through all of this and Mama came back with Mini-Me when they were able to."
"You really can't tell me how she discovered a way back?" Helena prodded once more.
"I don't remember much," she shrugged. "Mama always talked to you and great grandma Norie in private. When we weren't together, I played in the nursery or explored the gardens with great grandpa Rupert and Polly. I think Mama tried to distract me from what was happening so I wouldn't get too upset." Her serious expression suddenly lightened as she remembered the pact she'd made with Myka. "She figured that something would happen to your memory so I said I'd ask you questions that wouldn't make sense to you until we returned and you had your memory back."
Smiling at the mischief in the young woman's eyes, Helena felt herself relax slightly. "Something to look forward to then?" She chuckled at the thought, anticipating the look on her eight-year-old's face. "So, other than being shot," she began again, the image sending another icy tendril along her spine. "You don't remember anything terrible happening?"
Christina stiffened at the question, her instinctive reaction betraying her even as she shook her head. Catching an admonishing glare from her mother, she slumped in her seat. She gulped from her mug and then stared into its depths. "Mum, what does it really matter; so long as they come home in one piece?"
Helena abandoned her drink, pushing her stool from the counter and stalking across the kitchen in three agitated steps before turning swiftly round. She bit her lip and tugged both hands through her hair. The urge to shout and scorn was strong but she held it back.
"It matters," she insisted through clenched teeth.
"No, it really doesn't!" Christina shot back, her own emotions running rampant at the idea of reliving those difficult weeks yet again. "It's not like you can do anything to help them!" She pushed her own mug away, her gaze falling on anything that would help her calm her mind and stem the tide.
Helena looked to the ceiling, jaw clenched around harsh words. "Love, you were just a child then," she began again, trying to avoid the argument that was heating up. "You may have witnessed things that made little to no impact on you."
"Then, Mum. Prerogative word. And I saw and heard plenty of impacting things that I didn't want to see," she added accusatively. She felt momentarily bad for the exaggeration, but seeing her Mummy kissing anyone but her Mama had stuck in her psyche.
Picturing her little girl struggling with these things only made HG more determined. "So it stands to reason that I might be correct," she pushed.
The young woman groaned with genuine exasperation, feeling the companionable atmosphere disappear completely. "God! I thought this conversation was hard the first twenty times," she complained mostly to herself. She finally faced Helena again, but was no less resolute in her desire to 'keep mum'. "Look, you, Mama and practically every other person we know has quizzed me about this. There's nothing left to dig for. Don't you think if you had discovered something that would help, you would have told me to pass it on?"
Standing rigid, torn between needing information and not wanting to antagonise her daughter any further, the inventor breathed deliberately. Unfortunately, for her, she wasn't very good at hiding her feelings when she was riled and her frustration was clear in her tone. "I hardly think that means we should stop trying."
Angry now at having to deal with her mother's stubbornness yet again, Christina pushed her stool back, its legs scraping the stone-tiled floor, and left the room. "There's no pissing point!" She shouted in her wake.
HG covered her face with her hands, the sound of a door slamming in the distance making her wince. "Well done, Helena," she congratulated herself sarcastically. "Great parenting."
On autopilot, she collected their discarded cups and washed them, leaving them on the draining board to air dry. Keeping busy would make this whole ordeal progress so much faster, but the only thing she wanted to be busy doing was helping. By Christina's estimation, they would only have to wait about a week, but to the inventor, seven days seemed like a lifetime. This from someone who had spent over a hundred conscious years in suspended animation.
It was a learning curve, realising how far she could push her daughter before it became too much. There was never a conscious intention to badger people; especially those she loved, but often her own thirst for knowledge drove any consideration she had for their patience out of the window. The realisation that she'd pushed too far never seemed to arise until it was too late.
The mission that Christina had been given was obviously difficult for the young woman. Helena had a sneaking suspicion that she knew more than she was admitting and couldn't help but wonder what impact it might have on their lives. What was clear though, was that she had to let the young woman volunteer information at her own pace; incidents like this morning were not going to help them.
HG found herself wandering through the downstairs rooms, at a loss for what she should do next. Once her mind was made up, she wanted to immediately find Christina and check on her, but for once, she decided to curb her rash leanings. The woman was barely out of her teens, still so young, and Helena remembered her own youth well enough to realise that time was needed for them both to contemplate the argument and get a hold of their emotions.
As lunchtime approached though and the inventor felt that food was a must, she prepared a few soft-boiled eggs and carried them, and four rounds of toast, up to her daughter's room. Having no hands free, she used the toe of her shoe to tap on the door and prayed that her attempt at an apology would be accepted.
There came the slight creaking of the bed and footsteps coming closer before the door opened and a hesitant face appeared at the threshold. Christina paused for a moment in confusion and then, ever so slowly, a soft smile chased away the gloom behind her expression. She made room for her mother to squeeze passed her and followed her over to the desk, pulling a crude drawing of the solar system out of the way as Helena placed the tray down. Wordlessly, they each found something to sit on and gathered close to the desk.
"No soldiers?" Christina enquired through a tentatively mischievous smile.
HG's eyebrows rose and she paused halfway through cutting her egg. "I figured I'd presumed to tell you enough this morning and that you were perhaps old enough to make your own decisions on more than just the information you want to share." She had meant the comment to be teasing but her tone suggested more contrition than anything.
The young woman gazed gratefully into dark brown depths for several seconds. "Thanks," she choked. There was an awkward silence before Helena leaned in and pulled her daughter into a tight hug, kissing her hair habitually. Christina eventually sat back with a teary smile. "For future reference though, I always want soldiers," she announced cheekily before tucking into her lunch.
Moments spent in conspiracy, racing to cut toast into thin strips for dunking, eventually became subdued again as they ate and recalled the reason for the distant tension in the room.
As Helena had provided the peace offering, Christina decided that she could break the silence. "Mum?" she mumbled as she picked at a crust of toast.
"Yes, my darling?" She watched the nervous behaviour through her peripheral vision and reminded herself not to jump on her daughter's every word.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just..." She sighed and discarded the shredded morsel back on the plate. "I know you've got to be going mad with worry already and I don't want to add to that for no good reason." The expression behind her eyes pleaded with the older Victorian to understand her reasons.
"Ok," the inventor whispered reluctantly. "I'm not going to try to force or trick you into telling me, and though it's not going to stop me looking, I understand that you believe there's nothing we can do to help."
"But?"
"But," Helena smiled briefly at the prompt. "With regard to how much I might be worrying, don't you think that my imagination may be worse than your truth?"
Christina's eyes narrowed. "I thought you said you weren't going to try to trick me?"
HG chuckled at the accusation. "It did sound rather like that didn't it? That wasn't my intention, Love. I was simply highlighting a flaw in your well-meaning logic."
The mousy-haired Wells sighed again, this time in surrender. "Mama was right," she muttered. "You really do make every effort not to be wrong when it's something you really want."
Helena tried not to smirk as she briefly imagined the fond annoyance on her lover's face. They were two peas in a pod when it came to wanting to have answers to everything, but Myka being Myka, she was usually the first one to drop an argument, leaving the raven-haired inventor with the last word. HG often found herself paying for her stubbornness in other ways, but it was all part and parcel with who they were.
"I make no apologies," she replied imperiously.
"Hmff," Christina scoffed, rolling her eyes. She took a quiet moment to compose herself and carefully considered her words. "I had a few nightmares about Mama being shot, once we were back home, but most of my bad dreams were about her being ill."
Helena felt the blood drain from her face slightly but held her tongue. Christina says they'll come home in one piece. Surely that means Myka recovered. She closed her eyes and then when nothing else was forthcoming, opened them to find her daughter considering her closely. "Go on," she reassured her.
"We'd been there about three weeks. Mama came back from a party at uncle Charlie's upset. The next day, she couldn't get out of bed. The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong and started talking about sedating her because she wouldn't let them try any of their cures on her." She looked up from the doodle she'd been drawing on a post-it, into cold eyes. Shaking off the shiver that ran along her spine, she finished quickly. "Then, as suddenly as it started, she was fine. Good as new. One day, she was making you promise to look after me, the next day, she was walking around like nothing had happened."
"It has to have been an artefact," HG whispered hoarsely, passed the lump constricting her throat.
"That's what I eventually figured, but it was years before either of you would tell me the whole story." Seeing the expectant expression on her mother's features, she shook her head slowly. "Nu-uh. That I'm not allowed to tell you. Bosses' orders."
"What boss?" Helena demanded, feeling put out again; it was a lot to take in.
"You and Mama," Christina smiled again, though the effect was dampened by the residual sobering feeling of her story. "You'll just have to wait until you have your memories back."
Shoulders stiffening with resolve, the inventor began collecting their used plates and moved with renewed intention towards the door. "Then I know where my next port of call will be."
"Rather them than me," CJ muttered to herself as they made their way back downstairs.
Two days passed before Helena was granted an audience with a regent. Two days of pacing the various rooms of her home and causing increasingly ridiculous arguments with her daughter. Two days becoming more and more irritable as lack of sleep began to catch up with her and the frustration she felt from being unable to help eroded the more endearing elements of her personality, leaving behind a snappy, disagreeable woman who everyone began to avoid.
The second visit she made to the Warehouse with Christina ended almost as soon as it began; her mood so foul that Pete actually shouted at her for almost reducing Claudia to tears.
No one was able to placate her, or meet her exacting standards when they did try to help. She complained that the new agents were bloody useless and hampered her efforts, but when Artie had to send them to New Zealand to hunt down a Maori talisman, she argued that it could wait and that they needed all hands on deck. When he wouldn't relent and reminded her of their duty as agents, she swept half the contents of his desk on the floor and broke his favourite mug.
After this display, he banned her from the Warehouse until she could bring her emotions under control.
Her one saving attribute was the conviction she put into following the rules. There had been a long list of them following her re-reinstatement as an agent and then there was the promise she'd made to Artie not to abuse the artefacts or set out on her own without informing anyone of her intentions. Everything she did, no matter how small, she logged for the director to review, and anything restricted that she needed, she asked for. She often didn't like the replied she got but she used the system like everyone else, possibly for the first time in her career.
Being caged in with her mother in this mood was not Christina's idea of a good time and after forty-eight hours of torture, she had a long conversation with Claudia, making an impassioned speech to encourage the regents to get themselves into gear and stop hiding. At the same time, they agreed that Helena would benefit from a visit by Mrs. Fredrick and Dr. Calder, to address her sleeping issues. By this point, HG was running mostly on adrenaline and stubborn determination.
Mrs. Lattimer and Mr. Kosan arrived late in the afternoon, three days after Myka and young Christina's disappearance. Helena was reaching the end of her tether and greeted them with a sarcastic 'nice of you to pop by'. Both regents ignored the jibe and made their way into the living room without preamble.
Jane immediately took a seat but Adwin remained standing and merely gestured the other occupants of the house towards the couch. HG looked like she was going to refuse but as the regent stood calmly, waiting, she breathed a deep sigh and sank down next to Christina.
"Agent Wells, I'm pleased to see that you are trying hard to make appropriate choices. I appreciate how this situation has been particularly trying." As he spoke, from the corner of his eye, he saw her posture change and her eyes roll. "You have something to add?" He crossed his hands over the front of his jacket and observed Helena with a knowing smile.
"Are regents trained in the art of patronisation? Or is it just the head regent's job?" Her accumulated irritation coloured her tone, making the question extra spiky.
Unperturbed, Mr. Kosan remained polite as he gestured to the door and asked, "If you would prefer for us to leave...?"
HG's expression soured further but she managed to keep her tongue. From her left, a hand grasped hers and as she looked, a soft gaze pleaded with her to let it go.
"Mum, please. You wanted them here so let's hear what they have to say," she implored.
Helena gazed at her daughter with tired eyes and for a moment, thought she saw a flicker of her fiancée in the young woman's features. It was that likeness, the illusion of Myka's encouragement, that convinced her to give up her bone of contention and make the most of the opportunity.
Her hand squeezed Christina's, anchoring herself as she turned back to face Adwin. She didn't offer an apology but gave him a nod that said he could continue without interruption.
"I understand your frustration, Agent Wells. I'm sorry that you don't believe the validity of my sympathy but I am pleased with how you've been conducting yourself. There are those who would like to see you fail and I am grateful that you are not giving them reason to gloat." The head regent approached his colleague and held out his right hand, into which she placed a collection of old journals. "I'm proud of you," he continued as he stepped back towards the Wells duo and passed the leather bound books to HG. "And I think there are others who would be too, even though they are no longer with us."
All irritation suddenly dissipated as Helena studied the journals in her hands and was replaced by an odd sense of longing as she realised who they had belonged to. "Why do you have her journals?" she asked in a hushed tone. Though the answer was fairly self-evident, she wanted to hear it from the regent's mouth.
Mr. Kosan finally decided to take a seat, nodding to Jane to take up the explanation. Pete's mom leant forward in her seat, the Ramati shackle slipping out from the cuff of her jacket as she leant her forearms on her knees.
"Helena, I know you don't have a very high opinion of our position with the Warehouse. That's understandable considering your experiences, but we have a duty, to uphold rules and standards that agents are not privilege to." She nodded towards the journals, reinforcing her point. "Your grandmother knew that and kept her involvement secret from you despite how much it hurt her to do so. Much as I chose to do with Peter before I was accidentally 'outed'."
Jane glanced back at her boss who nodded imperceptibly to indicate that she'd said enough; they had both been of the same opinion that they should talk as little as possible on this occasion; Agent Wells would only have more questions for them when she'd finished reading her grandmother's journals.
"Regarding your request to have your memory restored," Mr. Kosan took over again, his smooth tone conveying sincere regret beneath that unflappable veneer. "The artefact used to store them is time sensitive; it cannot be activated until a particular event has passed. We assume that this will happen on Agent Bering's return. Until then, I suggest you immerse yourself in these," he gestured to the books on HG's lap. "You may find more clues to your history than I could tell you."
Helena felt her body lose its tension and sank into the couch cushions. She'd worked herself up for a fight, expecting to face nothing but resistance from the upper end of their hierarchy, but now that she had access to information and an answer as to why she couldn't have her memories, she felt all the adrenaline leave her. Abruptly, all she wanted to do was lie her head down and sleep.
Seeing the complete change of attitude in her mother, Christina stood and quietly saw the regents out. "Thank you," she said as they left. "She's been tying herself in knots trying to do something to help. I'm used to her being so strong; it's disconcerting to see her like this."
"You're being strong enough for both of you," Jane reassured the time traveller as she gently squeezed her upper arm. "It's in your genes," she added with a wink.
Mousey-brown waves shook as Christina met Regent Lattimer's gaze in surprise. "You know?" she asked in a hushed tone, her attention flicking between the pair.
Adwin Kosan inclined his head, confirming her question. "You have contained the situation well, but if you do require further assistance, our door is open," the head regent informed her. "Much of our task now is to wait. Regent Lattimer will return in two days time if Agent Wells wishes to address any specifics from her findings."
"Dr. Calder and Irene will be by this evening," the redhead added, anticipating the question on the young woman's mind.
Christina breathed a steadying breath and thanked them again. She turned into the house in a semi-daydream, closing the front door softly behind her.
How had they discovered her secret? It couldn't be in the journals her mother had; they wouldn't have allowed her to have them if there was a chance of her learning more than she should know at this point. Perhaps her great-grandmother had left knowledge of her origins in another time sensitive place; if her Mum was going to share that secret with anyone, it would be her beloved Norie. Perhaps the astute regent had anticipated the support her great-granddaughter might need while waiting for her Mama to return.
After a prolonged period of staring at the door, lost in her thoughts, she turned back towards the living room, stopping dead in her tracks when suspicious eyes were there to meet her.
"Secrets are damned near a profession in our family," HG's wry voice broke the terse silence.
Oops, another cliff-hanger!