Eeek, I'm excited and nervous about the next few chapters. I was going for 16 chapters again, but this part of the story just keeps going, so still a few more left.
I loved getting home to read your reviews guys. Thank you so much! Hopefully what's to come will make the frustration/suspense worth it. Some answers to some questions coming for you and HG...
Chapter Sixteen
After Mrs Pink saw to the linens and Mrs Bering's sleep attire, Helena sat by Myka's bed and continued the task of keeping her temperature normal. Any time she took a break for a few minutes, cautious of not wanting her love to be too cold, the woman in the bed quickly began to overheat again. She worked diligently for an hour in silence, the only sounds she was aware of were Myka's shallow breathing and the unnaturally loud beating of her own heart.
It occurred to her during this time that, though she had only known this woman two short weeks and spent a mere handful of hours in total in her presence, her life would be torturous to withstand without her. She felt like she would move planets if she could find a way, just to make sure that Myka remained an integral part of her existence.
She'd lost count of how many times she'd lifted a cloth to that forehead; how many bowls of cold water had been refilled. Susan came to relieve her at midday and for once, there were no antagonising or admonishing words passed between them. Helena reluctantly relinquished her seat and offered to remove the used cloths to add to the wash.
She had a brief word with the kitchen staff, enquiring after lunch before finding her way to the school room where Christina had been ordered to stay with Polly. She stood in the doorway, watching solemnly. While with the girl's mother, HG had given almost no concern for what others were doing around her but now it struck her that her grandmother was conspicuous by her absence. Hadn't she mentioned something about spending time with her young guest?
She could see that the maid was trying her best to engage the eight-year-old in anything that might take her mind off what was happening elsewhere, but the dark haired girl was clearly too mired in her concerns to show interest.
Feeling compelled, Helena abandoned her vigil by the door and found a space on the only sofa in the room, close enough but not intruding on the two at the desk if they chose to ignore her. One glance from Christina though and she knew that her presence was more than welcome; there was a longing in those familiarly dark eyes that called to her.
"Polly," HG said softly, gaining the woman's full attention. "I think your assistance in the kitchen will be much appreciated while Mrs Pink attends to our patient." She saw blue eyes dart to her charge and smiled a little at the realisation that the red head had come to care for the youngster. "I will send for you if I'm needed elsewhere," she reassured her.
"Yes, Miss Wells," Polly answered obediently, leaving the two alone.
Christina was already half in Helena's lap before the door closed behind the maid, her hands wrapped around the lapels of the adult's shirt and a head wedged firmly between shoulder and neck.
Stumped only for a moment by the surprising reaction, the inventor recovered quickly and wrapped her arms firmly around the figure trembling against her. No words were exchanged as she buried her face in wavy locks and breathed a scent that was altogether comforting and overwhelming. She rocked gently back and forth and whispered reassurances that she wasn't sure she could keep.
"Try not to worry, darling. I know it's distressing but we will find out what ails your mother and then restore her to full health before you know it."
Christina shifted so that she was sitting mostly on the couch with her side flush against the inventor's and her head against an inviting shoulder. "How did she get poorly? Was it because of her being dizzy yesterday? Will I catch it?"
Helena looked down into inquisitive eyes and frowned. Myka had lost her equilibrium as they greeted one another the day before but she assumed that was something to do with the American's reaction to her close proximity. Could the brunette have been coming down with this fever then? "I think that will depend on the cause. Hopefully, it is not too serious," she offered gently. "We will simply have to stay vigilant and look for signs of illness."
"Grandma Elle says that I have to stay away in case of infection."
"She's being cautious." Helena explained. "Fevers are known to affect children more adversely than adults."
There was a quiet moment as the young girl took this in before she sat up, heightened worry colouring her expression. "What about the babies?" She cried. No matter how much she might worry that her siblings were going to negatively affect her life, she couldn't help feeling responsible for them. "They can't look after themselves yet."
HG's mouth opened and closed as her brain prioritised the things she wanted to say in response to this outburst. She's expecting twins? She swallowed her exasperation that the surprises concerning Myka kept coming. "We're doing everything we can to bring her temperature down. It will help until we have a better idea of what we're dealing with." She stared into a horrified gaze until she decided that sitting around to wait out the results was doing nothing to help either of them. "I propose that we attend lunch to gain some sustenance and then return to your mother's room. If you give me your word to stay by the door, I will let you accompany me."
"I promise," Christina announced immediately. She was going stir crazy being locked up with Polly, no matter how nice the maid was. "I can help carry clean water," she added to her cause.
Though not particularly hungry herself, Helena made a show of finishing her lunch as the two of them sat at the dining table alone. Eleanor had yet to return from her impromptu departure and after being assured that there was nothing more he could do to aid his guest at home, Rupert had left to see to business in one of his factories. The inventor, though not experienced in caring for a child, wanted to do her very best to see that Myka's pride and joy was well looked after.
They returned to what had now become the invalid room and, true to her word, Christina took one quick look at her Mama's unchanged status and curled up on the couch at the far side of the room while HG relieved Mrs Pink and instantly placed her hand against Myka's forehead to gage her temperature. Susan had attended to the invalid as well as any of them and HG could feel the difference the cold compresses were making, but within a minute, the brunette's temperature began to rise again.
Helena glanced over at Christina and just as she thought to adopt a brave face, something glittered from the corner of the room, catching her eye. Quickly placing a new cloth on Myka's forehead, she left the side of the bed and hastened to search for whatever she had seen.
"What is it?" Christina asked curiously.
HG reached behind a side table and pulled the object out, inspecting it. "It appears to be my grandmother's ring," she claimed with confusion. "I wonder how..."
"It's Mama's ring!" The young girl exclaimed as she forgot all about her promise and stepped closer to the bed to inspect her mother's hands. "She must have dropped it last night."
Helena stood and gazed down at the prone woman. Myka was missing her ring. Having hated the idea of the American being promised to someone else, the inventor had made a point of looking anywhere but at the hand that held that promise; she hadn't seen the striking similarity between the rings before. Knowing that her grandfather claimed to have had Norie's rings made especially for her, Helena struggled to wrap her mind around how this one could be identical.
With no immediate answer, she pushed the question aside as another to ask either her grandmother or Myka and approached the bed with her discovered treasure. She didn't think about any persons absent as she lifted her love's hand and found the correct finger, her only thoughts were for a beautiful fantasy as she slid the ring home, ignoring the tingle of static between her hand and Myka's.
"There, love," she commented softly and then, almost as if her voice had jumpstarted her, the woman in the bed jerked, her eyes blinking, throwing her into consciousness after more than half a day lost to Morpheus' grasp.
HG heard a surprised gasp escape from either her or Christina and held her breath as she continued to cradle that hand.
Gazing with confusion around the room, Myka took in the disparate forms of her family in the historical setting and connected neither. Her vision swam in and out, memories, dreams and reality mixing into an amalgamation of what she thought she was seeing.
The walls rippled, morphing between her bedroom at home, her childhood room, a hospital, Leena's, the apartment she'd occasionally shared with Sam, to the one in which she lay. All the while she remained in bed, confused and half conscious.
Her muscles twitched uncomfortably. She desperately wanted to leap from her reclined position and shake out her limbs, but there was a heavy, lethargic weight that forced her down, keeping her almost immobile.
"Myka?" Helena's voice sounded, her tone both shocked and relieved. Green eyes honed in on her voice and prompted her to try again. "It's Helena, darling. Remember?" She was aware of the eight-year-old having crept up beside her and threw caution to the wind as she wrapped an arm around the girl. "Christina is here too. You're going to be fine, love. We're taking care of you."
Myka was barely aware of what the Victorian was saying but she felt comforted by the woman's voice and presence. She remembered a dream and, latching onto the first cohesive thought that came to mind, she said, "Horses."
Sharing a quick, puzzled glance with Christina, HG looked back at the brunette and asked, "What horses, love?"
"For the wedding," the future agent clarified. She focussed on dark eyes, feeling a gentle pull in that direction. "We should have horses at our wedding. You said you missed the horse and buggy days. Our kids will love them." Her head turned as she continued to wax lyrical about the nuptials she imagined were impending, unaware of the confusion she was creating in the room.
Helena's frown deepened until she saw the eight-year-old's almost guilty expression and then felt her eyebrows tugging up towards her hairline. As Christina opened her mouth to comment, she silenced the girl with a raised hand. Myka might have been delirious but the Victorian agent felt like she'd just been allowed a peek into the American's mysterious background. Perhaps she should have been ashamed to use the child's honest expression to her advantage but she was fed up of being kept in the dark.
Stubbornly mistaking Myka's response for lucidity, Helena launched into her questions. "Where did you come from, Myka? Who are you going to marry?" The answer she received was nothing like what she was hoping for though.
Myka's eyes were drifting again as she flitted between the moving figures beside her and the expanse of ceiling above. She couldn't seem to pin down reality amongst her memories. It was as if her timeline was disjointed and every thought was remembered as if it were the present. "HG Wells is a woman," she announced needlessly to the room, and then, "She wants to rejoin the Warehouse. Artie isn't going to like it."
A weight fell into her stomach with a sickening thud. Helena was unaware that her mouth was hanging open as she stared down at the stranger she loved, until a soft tisking sound drew her attention to the doorway. There stood her grandmother, looking not the least bit confused by Myka's muttering, with Caturanga standing unobtrusively in her shadow.
"You!" She exclaimed as she dropped the wet cloth she was still holding and jumped to her feet. "Both of you!"
"It appears we have arrived too late to avoid the worst of the theatrics," Eleanor said with a half amused, half resigned sigh directed at her granddaughter.
"Do not dare to use that patronising tone with me!" Helena exploded, feeling betrayed and hoodwinked. Neither emotion sitting well with her. "You've been at the centre of this, all this time?" Her indignation was so great that she was hardly aware of the continued muttering that came from the bed or Christina's quiet sobs. She ran both hands through her hair, and then deciding that she could no longer stand to be in the same room as these people, she pushed passed the figures at the door and left without another word.
"That went as well as could be expected," Mrs Wells lamented as she turned to the guest she'd brought with her. "Would you mind?" She gestured to the child and the occupant of the bed.
"Not at all," Caturanga assured her. "I will examine Agent Bering. I'm sure young Christina will be an adept assistant," he added, smiling at the girl who sucked in several short breaths as she wiped at her tear-stained face.
Hurricane Helena stormed through the house with little concern for anything in her path. No part of this situation computed with her yet but she clung to the slim sense of satisfaction in that she had begun to suspect the involvement of a curiosity. Knowledge was the key element to her comfort zone. To be left without that was akin to being thrown into a lake while barely knowing how to swim.
She found herself returning to her grandmother's study after stalking the ground floor, desperate to escape but thirsty for answers, and reluctant to leave Myka. Eleanor was already there, waiting behind her desk, showing only a fraction of the contrition Helena thought she should feel.
"You know Caturanga," HG blurted as she paced. Her grandmother's calm facade invited her to rethink her approach and she took a deep breath as she pushed her fingers through her hair again. "How?"
"The same manner in which you do, dear," Mrs Wells answered patiently. "Through our involvement with the Warehouse." She watched her dearest continue to stalk the room and absorbed the mixed expression of incredulity and betrayal. "I am a regent of Warehouse 12," she added.
HG made a sound halfway between a humourless laugh and a drowning sob. "You have been laughing at me this entire time," the inventor accused, thinking back to the elaborate lies she had fictioned to explain her many trips out of town, plus the struggle she'd endured more recently as she tried to understand her feelings for Myka.
"Helena," Eleanor blew out an exasperated puff of air. "Really! I have done no such thing."
"You are a pathological liar; why should I believe anything you say? Your conduct has been entirely opprobrious!" She watched her grandmother's expression and knew that her barb had hit its mark when patient eyes hardened. The feeling of victory she had didn't last long.
"Sit," the regent ordered, her expression serious. She waited until the young agent huffed and did as she was told. "Listen to me very carefully, Helena because I will only say this once. This is still my home and you are still my granddaughter. We will treat one another with respect, as we have always done, or we will not have this conversation at all. Am I understood?"
Slowly, Helena nodded, her gaze full of regret for her emotionally charged outburst. "I apologise," she said with only mild reluctance. She was still, swallowing the hurt that sat in her throat.
Mrs Wells leant forward, her eyes softening. "My dear, I know that this is difficult for you. It has not been easy for me either. My responsibilities with the Warehouse have precluded me from sharing many things with you, the hardest of all being the pride I have felt watching you blossom into an extraordinary agent." She saw hopeful eyes peek up at her and decided that she was on the right track. "Yes, I knew where you were going when you informed me that you would be sightseeing or visiting friends. Every curiosity you set out to hunt had me worrying for your safety, yet I could never let you know. Not all rules are made to be broken," she added with the hint of a smile.
HG sat back in her chair. "If secrecy is so essential, then why are you divulging so much now? Is this somehow connected to Myka? How is she connected to the Warehouse and why does she think that I intend to rejoin its ranks? I have not left." She had not had enough time to dissect the American's fever induced ramblings yet but even if she had, she wasn't sure that it would have prepared her for the truth.
"Myka and Christina were involved with a curiosity that brought them here from the future," Eleanor explained calmly. "Agent Bering is active at Warehouse 13."
Caturanga's presence was precisely what the upset eight-year-old needed after the morning's emotional lows. He listened attentively to her Mama's seemingly random exclamations, enlisted Christina's help to get Myka food and drink, and had her making notes to aid his observations. All the while, he maintained a cheery but respectful countenance, helping to put the young time-traveller at ease.
Helena and Eleanor had been gone almost an hour when Caturanga pulled out a rusty looking object that she assumed was an artefact and Myka's body was pulled by exhaustion back into a deep slumber. The young girl was relieved to note that she had stopped sweating and appeared a little more peaceful in her slumber.
"Is she going to be alright?" she asked the strange man as he continued to play with the object in his hand and made notes on her mother's condition. "What does that do?"
"Miss Bering, every situation that seems impossible is merely a puzzle waiting to be solved." He smiled sympathetically to show that he wasn't dismissing her concerns, but only trying to assure her of his confidence. "This little device allows the sufferer a short reprieve from the symptoms of their illness so that they can rest comfortably for a time. I regret that it will not last more than a few hours and must be used sparingly."
"Do you know what's wrong with her or what will cure her?" she asked desperately.
Approaching the girl and resting a hand on her shoulder, the caretaker shook his head. "Not as of yet but we will, rest assured." He guided the youngster toward the sofa and away from the bed again. "What do you recall about the artefact that brought you to us?"
HG wasn't sure if she was still capable of movement as she processed her grandmother's words. Warehouse 13, the future, time-travellers? All of these words fought for dominance in her mind. Thinking back to when she had returned from Filey, when she had heard of a botched retrieval and saw Agent Kipling looking sour-faced as Rob explained that his partner was on probation, she knew that Myka had arrived at that time. Were the two connected? If so, why had she not been allowed to know? And just what had Kipling done to warrant his punishment if he was involved?
Forgetting for a moment all of the other people who were likely involved in keeping secrets from her, Helena thought of only one thing, "She knew me." The inventor sank into herself as she began to put the myriad pieces of Myka's puzzling behaviour together. "Before the night we met in the dining room. That look," she recalled the expression of surprise, desire and conflict. "She knew me." Pushing out of her seat, she let her legs carry her back and forth, pacing the room again as she worked through the pieces of this mystery aloud. "She knows me in the future, that... that is why she will constantly ask me absurd questions. Why she will respond and then retreat."
Eleanor watched from her chair, waiting patiently, quietly for her granddaughter to find her own conclusions. Part of her wished that this difficult processing of events could already be over, but she knew that the young agent would not have had the same level of emotional investment before. Now was the best time.
"She knows me in the future," Helena repeated, beginning to really feel the meaning of those words. Looking into her grandmother's eyes for the truth, she watched her nod. "Caturanga told me some time ago that, when England's power wanes, the Warehouse will move. It moves to America? And I will want to go with it," she added, remembering Myka's words about her wanting to rejoin the team of agents. Then, through the buzzing of thoughts in her brain, a tangent appeared. "Is Myka truly promised in marriage?"
Eleanor couldn't prevent the sly smile that grew at the corner of her mouth. "Yes, dear," she answered teasingly.
Incensed at the reaction, HG demanded, "To whom?"
"To you," the matriarch responded with a chuckle. "Apparently, you proposed on Christmas day and she accepted. How very romantic of you, Helena. I was not entirely sure you had it in you."
Flushing with embarrassment and pleased surprise, the inventor stopped in her tracks and gazed down at her toes. So distracted was she by the thought of Myka accepting her that she didn't immediately consider the implications. Eventually a frown appeared on her features. "Are we living some kind of double life? What future would allow two women to live together and marry? Is America so progressive?" she wondered hopefully, and then, "How far from the future have they come?"
Eleanor braced herself for the revelation that was imminent. She took a slow breath and then answered, "Agent Bering reports joining Warehouse 13 in 2012. She and Christina left their home in late January, 2015."
"One hundred and twenty-five years!?" HG exclaimed. "I am nearly one hundred and forty-nine years old?" she added incredulously.
"Technically I suppose, though I believe you appear to be in your mid-thirties," the regent explained kindly. "Myka indicated that you were not more than a few years older than her for all intents and purposes."
"Good God," HG muttered. "I don't expect I will be allowed to know why and how I will still be alive in the twenty-first century?"
"I am afraid not, my dear."
"You will expect to extract my memories of these few weeks regardless," Helena commented knowingly. "What difference will it make?"
"The difference I imagine will be in your willingness to allow us to tamper with your memories." Eleanor responded succinctly. "Do you not feel as if you know enough yet?"
HG threw her grandmother a hard look. There were many things she still wanted to talk about; the biggest on the list being the older woman's insistence that she keep her involvement with the Warehouse a secret, but for the moment, she was mostly concerned with her partner's illness. "There are so many things I wish to protest against, but I feel that any energy I expend to that end will be in vain. Instead, I will focus on what is truly important; Myka." She held her breath and expunged it in one quick puff. "Norie please, tell me what is wrong with her."
Taking pity on her Little One, Mrs Wells rose from her chair and moved to stand in front of the weary agent. "Do not distress yourself, my love. Though I know no more than you, I do not believe Agent Bering to be in any immediate danger. She is strong. I am rather more concerned with the twins' health. The Warehouse has a plan and I can't confidently say that it has anyone's best interests at heart but its own. It is ever evolving. Of course, the purpose of it is for everyone's benefit. We individuals occasionally have to bear the brunt of its needs and fears."
Helena's eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. More pieces of the puzzle slotted into place as she considered this unknowable future and the possible advances. Perhaps she was wrong, but the immediate comfort she felt with Christina and the possessiveness that struck her on occasion when she deigned to think about Myka's pregnancy; a knowledge based on belief grew in her mind. They are my children,she thought in wonderment. Wrapping her arms around her beloved grandparent, HG let her tears of frustration, worry and impending loss fall onto a supplicating shoulder. "I just found her, Grandma," she bemoaned, gripping tighter as she felt her body begin to shake.
Eleanor ran her fingers through inky hair and swallowed her own empathic tears. "I know, dear. She is still here. She is not yet gone, and you will find her again, some day."
Helena returned to Myka's room to find the future agent fast asleep again, looking more comfortable than when she left. She had asked Norie about the similarities between her ring and the one she had replaced on the brunette's finger and discovered, to her dwindling surprise, that they were one and the same. It brought a bubbling feeling of warmth as she thought about saving the heirloom to give to her love over a hundred years from now.
Christina had been persuaded to take a break while her mother slept and after a few words of reassurance, Caturanga had departed to return to the Warehouse, leaving HG alone with the patient.
Thinking back to the moment Myka regained consciousness and began unintentionally revealing the things she had closely guarded for three weeks now, Helena considered the possibility that her actions with the ring had triggered the sudden awakening. Why had it been lying in the corner of the room in the first place? Was it as Christina had suggested, accidentally lost while the brunette was undressing? In hindsight, it seemed unlikely that Myka would have missed displacing the precious token of affection. She realised that she was much more open to the idea of the American's dedication to her intended now that she knew she was that person, but the fact remained, Myka was far too observant to have simply knocked it off and forgotten to pick it up. What did that leave?
She threw it away. Helena realised suddenly and frowned. Why? Had she had second thoughts after the intimacies they'd shared in her brother's library? Was it in a fit of regret that she rid herself of the symbolic promise? After their declarations of love, it seemed absurd for Myka to do such a thing. She would have to wait and see if the brunette could tell her. Since returning the ring, Myka's condition appeared to have improved and Helena was reluctant to do anything that would reverse that. She would have to be patient.
Not wanting to disturb the woman while she was resting so peacefully, HG decided to simply sit back and absorb the idea of the life that lay before her. A memory of Myka's caution last night, regarding her intake of alcohol, suddenly reared its head. She thinks I should be pregnant, she realised again and then immediately thought of Christina. She is Myka's child, her thoughts conceded, having watched the two closely. But perhaps not biologically?
Her thoughts ran in circles as she tried to figure out how she, and apparently the child she was soon to have, had managed to find a way to travel through time. She would know nothing of Myka once the agent returned to her life in the future so why would she even think to make the effort? What catastrophic event would befall them to catalyse such a feat?
Before long, she felt the many hours of the previous day combine with the stress of the current one and knew that sleep would claim her soon enough. She kept her promise to the youngest time traveller and called her in so they could sit together for a while with Myka before ushering her to begin getting ready for bed.
"I'm not tired," Christina pouted as she rubbed her eyes. Not only did she look physically exhausted, belaying her words, but emotionally wrung out too.
Helena was in no mood to be particularly patient in her own fatigued state but breathed deep to begin her attempt at persuasion. May as well start practising, HG. "Well, I am very sleepy. I cannot turn in until you do because you are going to keep me company tonight, so unless you are willing to debate the merits of sleep deprivation with me when I am already irritable, I suggest you relent and prepare yourself for bed."
Christina continued to rub her eyes as she glanced between the inventor and the bed. She had been afraid to go to bed, thinking that she would have to sleep alone, but suddenly the idea wasn't so horrific. "What about Mama?"
Helena drew the girl close and looked over at the occupant of the bed. "Someone will be with her at all times and if there is any change they will alert us." She felt the petite figure slump against her and knew she had won out. "Go on now," she encouraged gently, giving the child a nudge. "I will be along shortly. I expect you will save me some space?" She added teasingly, eliciting a tiny spark and a rise at the corner of a mouth.
She waited until Polly came to relieve her, took one last look at the American and sent a silent prayer that she would still be there in the morning.
Christina wasted no time in clinging to her the moment she slid into bed beside the girl. Hesitating only a moment, Helena wrapped her body around her future and kissed the soft curls on the child's head.
"Goodnight, love," she whispered.
A sleepy grunt reached her ears before a pillow-muffled, "Night, Mummy."