Well, I'm off to sit in a field for a week, dining on little but barbecued food and cups of tea. Lots of time to write and begin to wrap this part of the story up, I hope!
Great reviews guys. Yes, at this point in the story it is very difficult not to end with suspense. It's almost constant. I'll be keeping my electronic dependency to a minimum this week so look forward to reading your thoughts in my inbox when I return.
By the way, Duvetsnuggler, yes begging does work!
Chapter Fifteen
The library. If she had been in any better shape to think about where she currently found herself, Myka would have smiled. As it was, she could have been on Mars for all the attention she paid to her surroundings.
She was vaguely aware that her cheeks were wet and her vision was blurry but all that she could really process was the scene she had just interrupted. Was it him? Was he Christina's father? Was Helena supposed to be spending this evening in his arms? No amount of wishful thinking was going to rid her of this image. She felt it burning into the backs of her eyelids. It was Nate all over again, only now a fierce voice, probably lodged somewhere in her amygdala, screamed 'Helena is mine!' with all the force of a pneumatic drill.
Except, this time's Helena wasn't really hers, was she? This Helena belonged to the past, to Warehouse 12; to the Victorian era where Myka still struggled to acclimatise herself; to her disapproving peers and secret lovers; to a life that would soon be turned upside-down when an unexpected but much loved little girl arrived, screaming and kicking.
Yanking her hair from its confines, Myka suddenly felt a need to slip into her own clothes and drop this charade once and for all. She pressed firm fingertips into her scalp and wandered over to the window. Heat crept over her from the roaring fire but she felt more like the grounds outside, cold – frozen in her miserable state.
"Myka!" Helena tried again, her body repelling itself from her ex-lover's arms and aiming to follow the woman she couldn't get out of her head. Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms and held her back. "Damn it Richard, let go of me or I swear I will..."
"Nothing," Phelps interrupted, continuing to hold tight. "You will do nothing, Helena except calm down because I am trying to help you."
A low sound, like a growl, came from deep inside his friend and, sighing with exasperation, he let go. He watched her shoot towards the door again with the energy of a woman possessed, but as her hand reached the handle, she slowed and stopped.
Several heartbeats thumped by before she turned back.
"How were you intending to help me?" Helena finally asked.
Every fibre of her being demanded that she not waste any more time with distractions and chase after the one thing that seemed to make her entire existence worth living. Seeing the anguish on Myka's face made all the questions evaporate. There were many things she didn't know, something that pained her to admit, but what she did know was that her heart belonged to Myka now and it was about time the American knew it.
Still, there was just enough common sense left beneath this urgency to listen to a voice she trusted.
"HG, you can't run amok around this house, shouting her name. It would be disastrous enough with only the servants here, but before all of your guests? Regardless of their open-mindedness, it would be social suicide," he explained, his tone pleading.
The inventor rolled her eyes. "You think I care for theirs or anyone else's opinions?" She started back towards the door but Richard's words stopped her again.
"You may not care but does she? Have you not just regaled me this evening with all the trouble you and your grandmother went through to keep her out of the limelight and exonerate her good name?"
"Bollocks," Helena muttered. "Very well. What do you propose?"
"Give her a few minutes to settle. She will most likely find somewhere away from the crowds to do... whatever it is that women do when they are alone and upset." He watched dark eyes narrow dangerously and quickly continued. "In the meantime, I will rejoin the other guests and you can find your brother. I imagine people will begin to leave soon. I'm sure you can convince Charles to make excuses for you while you search for your lady."
Seeing the wisdom in his words, she nodded succinctly. "Right. I will find Charles."
Once again, her hand touched the door only for her attention to be called back. She huffed her annoyance, ready to offer the journalist a piece of her mind... or her foot, until she saw his expression and felt her features soften.
"I suppose it goes without saying that you intend to revoke our arrangement?" he half-asked, almost certain that any relationship she tried to have with Myka would mean the end of their affair.
Uncharacteristically, HG was lost for words. She hadn't given his feelings in the matter any consideration. "Whether she will have me or not, I am hers... I did enjoy our time together," she added, hoping that her words would offer some sort of consolation. She had never imagined that her sporadic lover would ever grow so attached to her.
Swallowing his unexpected disappointment, Richard forced forth his most charming smile. "As did I. That's all that matters now I suppose. Get along then, HG." He waved her towards the exit, winking as he added, "Faint heart never won fair maiden."
While she shook her head with amusement at his words, Helena stood on tiptoes to place a parting kiss on his cheek. Seconds later, she was through the door with only one concern on her mind.
Charles was easy to harangue into doing her bidding and Richard had been right in his prediction about the mass exodus of guests. She had been lucky to miss Marietta's farewell, catching sight of her carriage pulling away so that she only had time to offer up a half-hearted wave. She hated to admit it but perhaps her brother had been correct to highlight her mistake in inviting the flighty actress. It was one less thing to worry about now however.
Struggling not to appear too agitated, Helena whispered the simple instructions to her brother and took off through the house to find the missing brunette. More than one acquaintance caught her in her search and assumed that she was looking for them. With considerably more patience than she felt, the inventor listened politely for a minute to their inane chatter before making her apologies and pointing them in the direction of her sibling. If she hadn't needed so badly to keep her task low profile, she would have simply pushed passed the lot of them.
As it was, the time it took for her to look through all of the ground floor rooms and eventually arrive at the first floor library felt far too long. Half an hour had passed since the unfortunate scene in Charles' study and she feared what she would find when she eventually located the American.
Myka heard the footsteps before the handle of the door turned so that it swung open. Even guessing who it had to be, she closed her eyes and held her breath. The click of a lock forced them open again and she turned to find her future fiancée walking steadily towards her, a cautious expression on the Brit's face. When she spoke, HG's warm, inviting accent tugged at the brunette's heart.
"Myka?"A dozen thoughts and emotions vied for dominance as Helena absorbed the solemn air around the woman before her. Her earlier annoyance had loitered in the back of her mind, picking over every inconsistency and half-truth that followed Myka around, but something about being in her presence calmed that particular demon so that all that remained was her concern. "Might I have a moment to explain? What you witnessed back there, it wasn't what you might think."
The taller woman winced internally as she imagined what she must have looked like from Helena's point of view. Here she was again, expecting loyalty from someone she had no genuine claim on. "I'm sorry," she began, trying in vain to keep the mournful, scratchy quality of her voice hidden. Misery made it difficult to speak. "I shouldn't have barged in and overreacted. I only wanted to explain and apologise for before. For what I said and didn't say. For letting you think tha..." Try as she might to hold back the flood waters, Myka's words were cut off as she twisted her fingers together and stared down at the windowsill.
The unexpected apology had stopped the Brit in her tracks but now that Myka was crying again, she felt her feet move forward. "Darling, if you feel about us the way that I do then you have every reason to be upset for believing me wanting the attentions of another," she declared boldly, and then deciding to pull out all the stops, she added, "If your betrothed were here at this moment, I would no doubt have difficulty holding my countenance too. I think if he chose to put his arms around you I might... hit him with a very large book!"
The American's frozen expression of awe and surprise cracked and broke into a bark of manic amusement. "Oh God, that would be a sight to see," she remarked, forgetting for a moment her audience as she wiped away fresh tears.
Helena took a brave step forward so she was standing within the curly-haired woman's bubble. "If it makes you laugh rather than cry, I will gladly knock his block off. I have to addend though; I have concern for the implications of you enjoying your future husband's potential injuries."
Helena had moved well into her personal space by now, placing both hands on her shoulders. Being far too tired and emotionally drained to resist, Myka leant forward and rested her head against the Brit's collar, her hands swinging forward of their own volition to grasp lightly at dark-green fabric. "It's not like that," she murmured softly into a pale neck. "I can't explain."
"You are a mystery wrapped within an enigma. How much are you deliberately keeping from me?" HG asked, needing at least some answers. She wanted to gather the foreigner into her arms and keep her there forever but she was very aware of not wanting to spook her and spoil the light embrace they were in.
Studying the figure from the door barely minutes ago, she had felt her insides twist at the beauty before her. The American had let down her hair and the light from the fire bounced off its wild tendrils. Now that they were so close, she could smell the combination of soap and the woman's natural scent, the effect of which was a desire to feel them pressed so close together that they wouldn't know where either of them ended or began.
"A lot," Myka admitted, feeling a sense of release along with the utterance. Feeling bold once more in Helena's arms and more than a little curious, she turned her head to the side so that she could be heard. "You wanted to explain," she prompted.
HG bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from demanding answers. Give and take, she thought to herself. I can do that. "Richard saw my distress after leaving you and offered his advice. We are no longer lovers but he is still a trusted friend." She barely paused before opening another enquiry of her own. "Is there truly a future Mr Myka Bering, or whatever you name would be?" She felt the other woman sigh and shivered at the warm breath that brushed her collar.
"It's complicated," Myka finally removed her head from its resting place and stood face to face with the inventor. She saw the open frustration in those intense eyes and wanted, no needed to say something to try and aid the Victorian's understanding. Her fingers reached to brush against a pale cheek before coming to rest along her jaw. "I know that's not helpful. I know that you have to have noticed all the holes and inconsistencies in the things I say and do. One day, Helena, I hope that you'll have all the pieces and you'll understand why I've kept so much from you. It's not been easy, I want to tell you so much, believe me... That time isn't now though."
The genuine regret she saw in green eyes went somewhere towards appeasing the aspiring writer and she bit back the tumble of unfavourable words that immediately came to mind. Her mind drifted back to the moment she'd wanted to chase after Myka when she was seen in Dicky's arms; answers had ceased to be a priority when all of her concern had been for Myka's welfare. That realisation left her with only one more question. For now. "Then please, darling, allow me one satisfactory answer. Do you love me as I love you?"
Myka swore in that moment that her heart stopped beating. Looking into the Brit's eyes, she no longer saw a stranger who would one day become the woman she wanted to spend her life with, she only saw her partner, her Helena. She swallowed, her body leaning into the inventor, their foreheads coming to rest together as Helena's fingers slid along her shoulders and around her neck.
"Always," Myka whispered.
Not recalling which of them made the first move, Myka found herself melting at the feel of fingers in her hair, her hands sliding around a petite waist as soft lips met and danced with her own.
Helena ignored the part of her brain that wanted to dissect the American's answer, focussing only on the sensation of the brunette's body moulding to her own and the fact that her feelings were requited. Myka's hands held her close, one on her lower back and the other just inches below her neck. Having imagined that she would be the one to take control, HG was surprised by the confidence in her companion's movements. She had never been kissed like this before.
Despite the firm pressure against her back, Myka's embrace was tender and gentle as she kissed the corner's of Helena's open mouth and captured her lips over and over, sliding along their length, pushing forward sporadically to devour the lot before retreating to start all over again. HG was lost on a storm and after trying for a while to keep up, she simply let go and floated on each cresting wave of rising desire.
Neither showed any consideration for time passing. At some point, Helena felt Myka's tongue probing along the underside of her lip and her knees buckled. The next time she recalled being aware of their surroundings, they were entwined on the couch in front of the fire, the crackling flames creating a counterpoint for their soft moans and gasping breaths. Her hands had migrated further south, journeying over the sides of ribs and waist until coming to rest either side of the American's swollen belly. Myka's had taken the opposite route and now cradled each side of her jaw, guiding her through every increasingly passionate meeting of their mouths.
Helena recognised the point of no return when she began stroking upwards toward the underside of Myka's breasts and the brunette's subsequent moan vibrated directly to the throbbing bundle of nerves between her legs. Though she knew instinctively that her love would refuse to stay the night, for once, she didn't want her first encounter with someone to culminate in a brief, explosive event on the nearest surface. The way Myka made her insides roll with desire, she wanted to take her time and explore this sensation properly.
So it was that, over the next little while, HG slowly withdrew, fighting against her arousal and need to feel more of this woman around her, inside her. She found the brunette's wandering hands with her own and held them tight, kissing each knuckle tenderly before bringing them to rest against her chest, inches from her rapidly beating heart. Soft lips returned to pulling gently against her own and she suddenly became aware of Myka's reluctance to end their embrace. With great effort, the inventor tore her mouth away and moved her head so that their cheeks were pressed together. Eyes closed, she held still and simply breathed.
"Myka," she whispered once she found the ability to speak again. A soft 'hmm?' was the only response. "What would you say if I asked you to stay with me tonight?"
She felt the body against hers sag slightly and knew she had her answer. Despite the carnal monster amongst her thoughts who raged against her decision to stop when things had been heating up so well, she knew that she'd made the best decision for both of them. Myka was clearly still conflicted over the secrets she kept and Helena knew that it would break her if she woke up to see regret staring back at her in the morning.
Sighing against raven hair, the future agent considered her answer. Without time to think, she might very well have followed Helena to bed after all, but with her senses returning, she felt duty bound to go. "I would say that I want nothing more than to stay, but must leave."
HG nodded but made no effort to move. Who knew when they would have another opportunity to be this close? She was determined to make the most of it.
In the end, it was the sound of someone trying to open the locked door that drew them apart. They both smiled at the mumbled apology, recognising Charles' tone but now that the spell was broken, they had little choice but to retreat.
Myka was the first to stand, rising with caution on shaky legs. She reached up to touch her wild curls and frowned. "Christ, I must look like a gorgon with this hair."
Helena refrained from commenting, knowing that she would give away far too many of her thoughts by uttering the compliments that immediately sprang to mind. Spotting a discarded comb, she stood and approached the American from behind. "Here," she said gently. "Let me."
Green eyes slid shut at the feel of those hands in her hair once more but Myka had little time to really enjoy it before they were gone again.
"There, all set," Helena declared tightly, throwing her hands behind her back to prevent them from wandering.
"Thank you," Myka responded as she carefully checked the state of her hair and smiled. She knew that the time to leave had arrived but her feet felt like they were trapped in tar. "Will I see you tomorrow?" She blurted without thinking. Her stomach muscles tightened; she couldn't bear the thought of being without her partner for another day.
Helena smiled softly and nodded. "I can always think of a reason to visit with my grandmother and I did promise a certain young person that I would pop by soon." Her words were rewarded with a brilliant smile and before she could register the move, soft lips were pressing against her own again.
Acting on impulse, Myka held Helena's face between her palms and stole a final kiss. She paused only for a second when they parted before whispering a heartfelt 'I love you' and retreating to the door. It unlocked smoothly and she pulled it open, stepping halfway out before the sound of her name beckoned.
"I love you too, darling," HG told the green-eyes beauty, watching hungrily as another smile appeared before the door closed and she was gone.
Barely aware of what she said to whom, Myka soon found herself back at the Wells elders' estate. While still downstairs, she used the WC and then quietly withdrew to her room where she stood for several minutes, watching the rise and fall of the quilt where her daughter slept.
While Helena's arms had surrounded her and lips had held her under their spell, she conveniently forgot all about her concerns for the future. It was as if her mind was being manipulated by outside forces. Not making her do things she didn't want to do but rather, removing obstacles and inhibitions that normally gave her control over her actions. How long had this been going on? Had the blissful hours in Helena's company been a mistake after all? Even now, she realised that her thoughts were not entirely her own and looked down to where her hand tingled still, finding her engagement ring glowing with a fierce energy.
Panic consumed her suddenly and she clawed without thinking at the cherished gift, ripping it from her finger and casting it into a far off corner of the room.
Hands clenched against her chest, the agent managed to shuffle towards the bottom of the bed where she perched for several minutes trying to bring her breathing back under control. Tears stung her eyes, her reawakened thoughts bringing her full circle to Christina's fate and the consequences for Helena's presence in the twenty-first century. Guilt churned inside her again as she thought about how selfish her actions tonight had been. Yet, the memory of the inventor's body pressed against hers soothed her. The constant conflict of her thoughts made her want to dig them out.
What did her ring have to do with that? Mrs Fredrick had tested them and had deemed them safe, had said they were made for her, so did that mean the Warehouse was using her? Did it not want HG Wells to be a part of Warehouse 13?
"Mama?"
Myka jerked at the small sound coming from the bed and turned to see concerned eyes looking her way. Had she been crying aloud? "Yes, my sweet, it's me."
The young girl's sleep-laden limbs moved heavily as she rolled over a little and tried to see her mother better. "Are you alright?"
Having used the precious few seconds while Christina was shuffling about to wipe her eyes, the adult found a leg beneath the covers and squeezed it reassuringly. "You know me," she forced a smile. "I cry at the drop of a hat these days. I'm just tired. I'm coming to bed now so go back to sleep."
The eight-year-old mumbled something unintelligible and flopped into her pillow. Slowly gathering her jumbled senses, Myka made an effort to slip out of her clothes and into a nightshirt. She completed her ablutions as quietly as possible and finally crawled under the covers beside her precious angel.
Visions of the night's events and concerns for the consequences plagued her thoughts. As a dull headache throbbed along her temples, she felt her body shiver and sweat in fits so that sleep eluded her until the rise of a new day touched the horizon. All the while, from the corner of the room, one half of a curiosity continued to pulse.
Christina's eyes fluttered open to a room that was still fairly dull in the weak light of the early winter's dawn. She squirmed under the covers, unsure what had woken her until she realised how hot she felt. Throwing back the quilt, she tensed as the usual chill of the room hit her and then relaxed in relief. Looking around, she noticed her mother's discarded outfit from the night before and turned to see her. She vaguely remembered them saying goodnight.
A sleepy smile soon became a frown as the eight-year-old looked down upon her Mama's face, which was pinched with discomfort. Sweat covered the adult's brow, sticking curly hair to her skin.
"Mama?" Christina knelt over her mother, her thoughts turning anxious as Myka continued to twitch in her sleep but didn't respond. She waited for a minute and then shook the adult's shoulders, almost shouting her name this time. "Mama! It's morning. It's time to wake up."
The temperature in the room had seeped through her nightshirt so she was beginning to shiver now but Myka was still sweating. Knowing that she needed to fetch someone who could call for a doctor, Christina pulled the covers half way down and hesitated only a second before skidding from the room.
She remembered distinctly which room belonged to her great grandparents and hammered on the door without forethought. Percy appeared from the direction of the stairs and attempted to gently shoo her away, but the moment Rupert opened the door to investigate, she shot passed him and darted towards the bed.
"Now then," Mr Wells began in shock. "What's all this fuss about?" He looked confused, gazing between the child and his gentleman's gentleman.
Eleanor sat slowly up in bed, took one look at the expression on the girl's face and gave her full attention. "What is it, my dear?"
Christina almost sobbed with relief when she found no resistance from the adults and somewhere deep inside, congratulated herself for not bothering to worry about etiquette. "Mama's ill," she blurted without preamble. "She had a fever and she won't wake."
Concern and adrenaline provided her aging bones with enough energy to forego her usually gentle morning routine, letting Mrs Wells rise from her bed without too much trouble. She threw on her robe and led the procession to the guests' room. There she found Myka, partially uncovered and with a fine sheen of sweat dampening her skin. One look at her flushed features and she barely needed to put hand to forehead to know the girl's concern had been valid.
The men had remained by the door, conversing in hushed tones until Eleanor called out to them. "Percy. Be swift; fetch Dr Gravestock." She heard him head off to see to his task and looked over the patient once more, considering her actions. Knowing that the eight-year-old would want to be of use, she instructed her to find Polly and return with a bowl of cold water and some flannels. Finally, she met her husband at the door.
"How does it look?" He asked, gentle concern colouring his gaze.
"It's as the child said; she has a fever." Eleanor glanced back into the room, a frown marring her features. "We need to bring her temperature down."
"Is it the Scarletina? Is it safe for the girl to be in there?" Rupert considered abruptly.
"I dearly hope not, though perhaps we should consider separating them as a precaution. She will need Christina more than ever if she comes through this." She didn't want to say it aloud, didn't want to voice her fear, but she had rarely heard of a new mother surviving an illness as aggressive as this with their unborn unharmed. Those babes she knew that had survived to birth were often damaged in some way.
"Christina will not leave her mother's side so readily," Rupert warned knowingly. "We are going to have a fight on our hands."
Mrs Wells nodded. "Love, I need you to write to Helena. She will still be in bed no doubt but she will come running when she hears that Myka has taken ill. I would rather not worry her before we know what is wrong but she will want to know and it is my hope that her presence will keep Christina somewhat calm." She smiled as her husband squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"It will be done," he responded and took off towards his study.
Christina returned shortly after and Eleanor somehow managed to persuade her to remained near the door with Polly, at least until the doctor had arrived and given his diagnosis. As she sat by Myka's side and used the damp cloths to try and bring her temperature down, she considered this sudden illness and the implications for Helena, the Warehouse and the future.
Up until now, she had taken it on faith that Myka and Christina would return to the twenty-first century little worse for their adventure into the past, but now she found that faith being shaken. Was this part of the Warehouse's plan for her family, a kind of baptism by fire? Even if the mystical entity did possess an element of sentience, did that make it omnipotent? Could it prevent the unexpected?
She felt the American's twitching relax slightly and knew that the compresses were beginning to work. As the young mother was drenched in sweat, her temperature could easily begin to fall too rapidly so Eleanor removed the thicker quilts and recovered her with something light and dry. She felt Myka's forehead and was satisfied that there was little else she could do for the time being so put the bowl to one side and retreated to where the concerned onlookers waited.
"Polly, I need you to inform Mrs Pink that, once the doctor had been, we will need a fresh set of linens for Mrs Bering. The soiled ones will need to be boiled, do you understand?" Her expression was stern but patient as she looked at the young maid.
"Yes ma'am," the young woman replied, repeating the instructions before she was dismissed.
"Now then, little Miss," the regent took a seat on the small love seat and beckoned the stricken girl closer. She waited patiently until Christina climbed up slowly next to her. "You will want to help you mother, I know. However, you must understand that the best possible solution is to ensure that you remain healthy and safe." She looked down into an obdurate expression and was reminded so strongly of Helena that she almost laughed. Instead, she merely raised an eyebrow, showing that she wasn't the least bit intimidated. Christina eventually lowered her gaze and stared at the hands in her lap. "We don't want her to recover only to find that you have taken ill too, do we?"
Christina remained stubbornly silent for a moment before common sense prevailed and she nodded. "Will she get better?" She leant into the adult's side, her fingers wrapping around the sleeve of her robe.
"We will do everything in our power to make that happen," Eleanor answered without conviction. "The doctor should be here shortly and I've asked Mr Wells to send for my granddaughter. She is rather knowledgeable and useful in situations such as this."
It took the distracted girl a few seconds to connect the dots but after a brief pause, she glanced up at the regent with hope. She felt better already, knowing that her Mummy would be there.
The inventor arrived hot on the heels of the doctor and spent several minutes arguing with him once he'd finished his examination and hypothesised several possible causes.
The blissful, if confused state that Myka had left her in the previous evening, disappeared the moment she received her grandfather's note. Contrary to Norie's assumption that she would still be in bed, she had not entered her own room save to change into some more comfortable clothes. The remainder of the night, she had spent in the library, alternating between reading, napping and staring off into space as she sighed through pleasant memories.
In those wakeful moments, while her thoughts jumped between kisses and secrets, she began to feel a clarity that had eluded her until now. The timing of Myka and Christina's arrival coincided with several subtle changes, both in her personal life and within the Warehouse. She had been so taken with this beautiful stranger, so consumed by her own conflicted emotions, that she hadn't begun to actively connect any of it until now.
Something tugged at her brain; a tentative link that she wasn't sure she wanted to examine too closely. As innocent as her grandmother always appeared to be, HG had a gut feeling that the old woman was involved somehow. Whether it was just with the matriarch's guests or as part of a wider picture, she needed to find out.
It could still all be coincidence of course, but as she stood at the foot of Myka's bed now and considered this mysterious illness and the American's reluctance to divulge secrets that hinted at Helena's involvement somehow, the inventor knew that she had reached the point where she would demand answers. She just needed Myka to get well again.
Wow. Has it really taken 15 chapters to get to the first Bering and Wells kiss!? And you're still reading!? You're insane! ;-D