Glad you all liked the twist with the Christina/Myka/twin thing. That was actually the idea that set me off on a sequel for The Bubble in the first place. Three stories later... it finally appears on 'paper'!
And yes, DS, I do remember the plural in 'siblings' ;-) Something to look forward to.
This chapter follows on from chapter thirteen, so back to HG and Christina in the 21st century.
Chapter Nineteen
The teenaged girl continued to doze in her mother's lap while Helena read on through her grandmother's journal entries. Those that interested her most were the ones spanning Myka and their daughter's presence in 1890.
Someone, likely Mrs Fredrick, had cherry-picked the dates she would most likely be interested in. It couldn't be yet another coincidence that Norie's writings stopped just as she was about to learn more about the American's illness and subsequent recovery, could it? Then again, perhaps the regent had learnt something that she didn't want to put into words. Perhaps she thought that the answer was not safe on paper.
Whatever the reason, HG found herself taking a long, deep breath to control her need to scream at someone. The texture of soft curls between her fingers reminded her of what was truly important; that Myka had recovered and would be returning home soon, she and Christina both at least physically well.
November 9th, 1890, Helena read again.
Agent Myka Bering is full of controlled fire, a formative woman to be sure. _"That she is," the inventor whispered, her mind turning briefly to the times she had been actively pursued by the woman._ While initially I was sceptical, I no longer find it difficult to believe what she claims. Events within the Warehouse have been leading up to her appearance. I can feel it, even within these old bones.
It is not such a stretch to suppose that she could know us professionally if she truly is from a future Warehouse, however, the impression I get from her suggests that she has knowledge of Rupert and I on a personal level.
We have agreed that she will maintain the ruse that she is married and that 'Mr Bering' is unfortunately detained by business in France. _Helena sighed, knowing that the deception was necessary but feeling an old wound itch at the thought._ We will discuss the details presently. For the time being, I believe she is safe from too much scrutiny.
Having chance to converse with Miss Bering, I cannot place the certainty I feel that my Helena is somehow an integral part of current events. Christina's likeness to my granddaughter, the ring Myka wears... A convergence is taking place and we are in the centre of it.
One question plagues my mind; if I am correct, how will Helena find herself over a hundred years in the future? I do not doubt her sense of adventure or ingenuity but rather, I fear the source of her motivation.
"She felt something happening," HG murmured to the quiet room. Evidence against the Warehouse was stacking up. She cursed herself for not taking the time to rest properly at the beginning of the week; sleep deprivation was surely the cause of her lack of focus.
Try as she might, she still couldn't force her brain to recall the events of the past as her grandmother described them and continued to revisit what she remembered as a period of confusion and acceptance as she became aware of her pregnancy. In truth, she had not been pregnant at all then. The mornings spent at the docks with Charles to satisfy her cravings for seafood were lies; fabrications given to her probably by the woman she had trusted most at that time.
She had given birth to Christina full term though. The midwife had even suggested that she had carried longer than necessary. How was that possible unless Myka's presence in that time was pivotal to the moment she conceived?
She touched the chain around her neck and felt for the wedding band. It was always warm now, just above her body temperature so that she knew the effect was not simply conduction of heat, and it vibrated at a velocity that created a faint hum.
In silence, she began to read again, trying to keep her meandering thoughts to a minimum and tease out the pieces of the puzzle that would help her to solve it.
November 12th, 1890
As time passes, I am ever more convinced that Myka and Helena are involved. Agent Bering was reluctant to share anything about the future at first but she cannot hide the affection in her eyes whenever my Little One is mentioned. Behind the sparkle of fondness however, is a shadow. I see her grapple with her conscience every time she talks about Helena and I know that my concerns regarding my granddaughter's future are warranted.
She prefaces questions with warnings and I see a desire to 'save' Helena beneath the knowledge that she should not attempt to alter the past. I feel that, if she could guarantee no disastrous consequences for anyone else, she would sacrifice her happiness to prevent any tragedy that will befall my granddaughter.
It shames me to admit that a selfish part of me would allow her to try just to keep my Little One safe.
November 14th, 1890
Good Lord, I did not anticipate the effort required of me to deter Helena from chasing so readily after agent Bering. I have witnessed her fixation with potential paramours before but Myka appears to be the north to her compass. I do not believe she listened to half of what I attempted to say to her last night. Fortunately, she will more than likely spend the morning in bed, which will give me time to speak to Miss Bering alone.
I am thankful that Myka possesses a certain patient thoughtfulness that provides the antithesis to Helena's spontaneity. For all that they are alike, I do believe there is enough balance to make their relationship lasting.
Seeing Helena's fascination with Myka, it pains me to think that I will not be alive to see their love grow. Yet, I must be grateful that I have witnessed this much. Helena does not, at present, appreciate the weight of her emotions and I find that I am reminded of my own oblivious beginnings with Rupert. The constant push and pull was exhausting. Only once I became aware of my feelings was I able to release my aversion to convention and accept that I would share my life with him.
I can only hope that my discussion with Helena last night was able to tug at some of her doubts. I believe it essential that she realise her destiny sooner rather than later.
November 15th, 1890
I have not yet discovered the reason for these convergences but I feel strongly that I must help them along. Agent Bering is here to begin a series of events, though she knows not how or why. If it is in the interest of the Warehouse then it follows that it is in the interest of the world and the future. Helena is to endure horrors before her journey to the twenty first century and like Myka, I wish to prevent them, but I am told that they will be happy and I cannot in good conscience destroy that.
They will be married and will start a family of their own. My Little One will live in a future that is more prepared to accept her genius. I have to be satisfied with that.
Helena closed her eyes briefly to allow the tears that threatened to spill time to recede. No matter how annoyed she was with her grandparents' secrecy, she missed them dearly, particularly her grandmother. She had given almost no thought to losing her own parents when she volunteered for the bronze and only spared Charles a passing wish for his happiness, but Norie had been her mother by all but name and her best friend at times. She had accepted the loss long ago but there was still a grandmother shaped hole in her heart.
November 16th, 1890
With Helena escorting Myka and Christina about town, I had occasion to visit the Warehouse today.
Caturanga and I remain firm in our belief that we must allow events to unfold in their own time. Patience is something we each have in spades. However, in the interest of curiosity we tested my rings (the likeness of which Agent Bering wears) for the possible signs of artefact behaviour.
The mere act of removing them was enough to bring about a frantic beating beneath my breast so that we were forced to be swift with our tests. I should not have thought it before but both returned with a positive result. Neither is particularly strong, yet I cannot help but wonder whether Myka's would yield the same outcome. It is entirely likely that, given the remarkable circumstances in which she discovered them, they will gather strength over time.
The inventor thought back to Myka's remarkable story of how she found the rings inside a puzzle box and knew her grandmother had to be right. There was no doubt that the Warehouse was playing them like a theatre full of puppets, but to what end?
November 21st, 1890
Helena is gone to East Budleigh to search for a curiosity; leaving my guests feeling melancholy in her absence. Myka hides it well when others are around but the effort is beginning to take its toll on her ability to appear cheerful. Christina has become irritable and sullen; she grows weary of the wait and her antics plague her mother's good nature. I have asked Rupert to take the girl out for the afternoon in the hope that it will give Agent Bering time to herself to gather her strength once more.
November 24th, 1890
It is over a week since Helena insisted on taking her new assignment and I am convinced that she is deliberately stalling.
Her long absence is testament to how tangled her emotions must be at present. I have not known her to sacrifice prestige for the pursuit of love, yet she tempts whispers of incompetence in capturing a mere pendant while taking her time to figure out what her heart yearns for.
I would not know how to account for it, had I not seen her together with Myka.
I do hope she rediscovers her courage soon though. Spirits are low today, with no sign of rising without my Little One's attendance.
Swallowing a sharp pang of guilt, Helena pushed on.
November 26th, 1890
Helena returns, sending word of her completed journey via post.
She requests Myka's presence for a social gathering at her residence with Charles and while I am gratified to finally see a genuine smile on the Misses Bering's faces, I am wary of my granddaughter's intentions. I sincerely hope that she still heeds the warning I gave her the night she and Myka met.
It is not an appropriate event for a child but I have agreed with Agent Bering that Christina will return to this house with me once she has spent some time with Helena. I see the strain on that angelic face when we speak of her absent mother and cannot imagine the confusion with which she battles. I am reminded that hardships can sometimes test and strengthen ones character, yet I fervently hope that there is an end to this mystery in sight.
Guilt rose to plague the inventor as she pictured the struggle her little girl must be going through, even though she knew that there was nothing she could do to change the circumstances. She didn't remember meeting Myka or Christina at that time and even if she did, it wouldn't change the fact that she hadn't known them then and wouldn't have appreciated how difficult her absence would be for the visitors.
On top of that, as she continued to read, she began to feel a burning envy rise in the pit of her stomach. With no memory of the event, HG read Norie's words as if the 'Helena' she spoke of was a stranger. To think of this forgotten embodiment potentially pursuing her fiancée brought out the green-eyed monster in her. It didn't help that what she did remember of her amorous behaviour back then was not exactly complimentary. She was ashamed to admit that she had used people. Her grandmother had seen genuine emotion in her attentions towards Myka but it didn't necessarily follow that she had been considerate in her actions.
What would her fiancée think of her conduct? Would she be repulsed and find something worse in her character than the evils she already knew, or would her younger self's antics have the opposite effect? Would Myka find her youthful exuberance exciting, attractive, even arousing?
She tried to ignore the bile that rose in her throat. You would find Myka attractive in her youth; could you blame her for feeling the same?
November 27th, 1890
The house is in a state of subdued chaos. Myka is ill and not a one of us can think why.
Doctor Gravestock is similarly puzzled though is pleased enough that we are doing everything we can to stem the fever. He will return in a day or two if we do not see any improvement in her condition.
I cannot help but suspect the involvement of an artefact and I must write a missive to the Warehouse before the day is over.
Helena's presence has calmed Christina but I do not know how long that will last; in case Myka's condition is contagious, I have asked that the child remain outside the room. It takes no great stretch of the imagination to predict how her behaviour will change the longer she is forced to keep a distance from her mother.
November 28th, 1890
As a result of her delirium, Agent Bering has revealed to Helena her connection to the Warehouse. To say that my granddaughter is upset would be a gross understatement.
I invited Caturanga home with me to examine Myka and to bring Helena into the fold myself, but fate it seems is sent to deny me. I managed to calm my darling Agent Wells long enough to engage her in a composed conversation and though she remains understandably hurt by my secrecy, she allows that Myka's condition is the priority and valiantly buries her aggravation.
I could not be more proud of her.
Revealing her future betrothal to Myka brought about a longing in her that I have never before seen in her expression. She would move mountains to see Agent Bering well again but I believe she would be as equally miserable as full of joy; Myka's recovery will no doubt prompt her return home.
Regardless, it is now in our domain to discover the cure for this malady.
December 1st, 1890
I made an erroneous decision in summoning the doctor so swiftly. His presence, along with one or two colleagues, has hindered more than helped. Rupert was thankfully able to convince them that we are capable of handling the situation but this has been the only piece of good news all week.
Myka's condition deteriorates day by day and with it, my conviction wanes.
Though our suspicions regarding my rings are almost certainly correct, we are no closer to understanding how to reverse the effects.
Between my husband, Helena, Myka, Caturanga and myself, we are in agreement that it was Agent Bering's removing of her engagement ring that catalysed her illness. She regrets her rashness, poor dear and fears for her children. As she becomes weaker, we all grow increasingly concerned though try to hide it.
It appears that, once they are placed, the rings should not be removed. I have informed none that in my ignorance I too have taken them off and felt the beginnings of some queer illness. I have asked Caturanga to keep our little experiment to himself for now. If indeed I was also correct to think that they have strengthened over time, then I do not believe that I am in any immediate danger. It is Helena's good timing that has saved Myka for the present. Instinct may have had a hand in motivating her to return Agent Bering's ring but there is no doubt in my mind that she would not have survived beyond those first few days had it remained lost to her.
There is a frantic madness in my Little One's eyes that grows with the hour. The last three days, she has spent in the Warehouse. It is my belief that she intends to cure Myka with an artefact, even if it should mean putting her own life in danger. As a regent and a grandmother, I should put a stop to her irresponsible actions but it was agreed that events should play out as intended and I have to trust that the Warehouse has its reasons for creating this chaos.
If something does not change soon though, I fear my faith will break entirely.
"The rings again," Helena murmured to herself.
Myka had been ill for the best part of a week, which the inventor calculated as approximately a day and a half in the present time. Though she knew the actual time period for this illness was long passed, with her partner still absent, she couldn't help but picture the comparative time and considered the event to be happening 'now'. If the increasing temperature of the token around her neck were any measure of their connection, she couldn't be far wrong.
Of course, her calculations were based on her teen's knowledge of how long she and Myka were absent for, the truth of which had yet to be proved. Christina might be tight-lipped about many things but what she did share were not lies so Helena was content to believe her.
December 3rd, 1890
At last, we can breathe with relief.
I am as yet unaware of the particulars but Myka is out of bed and looking as well as she was when she arrived in our home nearly four weeks ago. I have asked the staff to give her time to herself while she adjusts. I am content that she will join us when she is ready.
Christina has asked to be left alone in the library. My attempts to draw her out were met with polite refusal and I have reluctantly agreed to allow her time to reflect on the week's events.
Having kept a close watch on my granddaughter, I know Helena did not resort to taking anything from the Warehouse. How close that decision was is anyone's guess. I am simply grateful that she did not. She is currently hiding in one of her nests. Knowing this house as well as she does, I have already ascertained that she is in no difficulty herself and have deigned to wait her out.
So the three of them are healthy if not entirely happy. I must content myself with the former and hope that the latter will improve in time.
With this last entry, Helena was convinced that the answers she sought had been too sensitive to put into writing. If her hypothesis about Christina's origins were correct, then it made a certain kind of sense.
Myka had either helped her to conceive a child already as developed as the twins she was carrying or else, their little girl was originally one of a pair. At the end of a four week stay in 1890, her fiancée would be seventeen weeks into her pregnancy. By the middle of May 1891, she had been fit to bursting with Christina, which coincided nicely with her theory.
How would Myka feel with either of those scenarios? Not only was she Christina's co-creator, but she would have to leave the past knowing the fate that awaited their daughter. Norie had observed that Myka appeared willing to sacrifice her future and her happiness to save Helena but she would be unable to do that without also sacrificing their children. She hoped that her fiancée would know that any hardship she endured was worth it for a chance to have a future together. She hoped that Myka could stay strong in her belief that they were meant to be together.
With no control over the past, all that remained was to wait until her family returned. But one thing was certain in her mind; Christina was Myka's by more than their mutual affection.
Helena paced the length of the book-bedecked room, passing her teenage daughter over and over with the same furious expression. She had spent the evening reflecting on her grandmother's words before suggesting that she and Christina get a better night's sleep. They'd eaten breakfast while chatting nostalgically about London and were now, once more discussing serious topics.
"No! Absolutely out of the question!" Her voice rang clearly through the house, her tone cutting through any resistance.
Christina sighed. She had made the decision to tell her mother of her conversation with Mrs Fredrick and, as expected, the older woman had exploded. They were sitting in the library now, pouring over Eleanor's journals again before they had to give them back.
HG had announced her readiness to leave for the bed and breakfast when the young time-traveller asked if they could talk about how she intended to get home. She watched the inventor pace and chunter to herself for over a minute and shook her head at her mother's stubbornness.
"I will be having words with Irene Fredrick if she thinks she can allow this to go ahead." Helena's hands gestured wildly and on every turn she stalked back passed the sofa, her gait stiff as she fought against her instinct to leap into action. "I suppose you both think it's fortuitous that Myka isn't here to stand against this lunacy too."
"Mama wouldn't like it any better than you," CJ agreed. "But she would know, like I bet you do deep down, that this is the only way."
"I beg to differ. The Warehouse is endless. If Mrs Fredrick or one of those holier-than-thou regents were to actually help for a change, we could find a way." Her fingers danced erratically over her lips as she searched through alternatives. "I could work on my time machine if they would let me. Anything else... I will not allow them to bronze you!"
Wincing at the dark pain and terror painting her mother's tone beneath the anger, Christina rubbed her temples. She had known that this wasn't a conversation they could have rationally but she was prepared to stand her ground. "How long will any of those options take? You've been down this road before, Mum. Are you really prepared to test dozens of artefacts on me when we have a reasonably safe solution right in front of us?"
"The time machine," HG tried again, swallowing the voice of logic that niggled at the back of her mind. "Now that I know it is truly possible..."
"I'm sorry," Christina interrupted. "I don't doubt your ability to pull it off, but I'm not prepared to wait however long it takes to get it done. I've already sacrificed two months of my life by coming here." She gazed up at her mother's guilt ridden features and softened her tone. "It's not your fault, Mum. You know it had to be done. I don't know what the Warehouse wants with me but it made it possible for you to give me life, for my family to come together and I couldn't refuse to protect that. I want to live," she finished, her voice holding onto more emotion than she'd intended to show.
HG had stopped pacing near the window. She was half-turned to listen to her daughter's words and felt the inevitability and sheer lack of control that she wielded. She made her way to the couch in silence and settled next to the girl, throwing her arm over her shoulder and drawing her into a hug. Knowing her daughter's origins, seeing the familiarity with Myka and understanding that it wasn't merely mannerisms that gave the teen a likeness; the inventor; the self-proclaimed genius, marvelled at the intricacies of the situation she and Myka were unwittingly involved in.
The first time she had seen the agent in London, some part of her felt as if the American belonged there, as if they had been there together once before. Dismissing the idea as ridiculous, she had endeavoured to wipe the thought from her mind and focus on the task. Still, the entire time spent in that house with the agents, the sense of déjà vu had refused to leave her.
It was difficult not to feel responsible as, so far as she could remember, her actions following Christina's death had caused untold heartache for every person whose life she had touched. To discover that the Warehouse was a major contributor to the direction of her existence made her want to rest any responsibility she carried firmly on its rafters.
Yet, without that interference, her life as she knew it and the family she loved simply wouldn't have been possible. Christina would never have been born and Helena knew that she would have had no reason to end up in the bronze. Her life would have been over long before Myka's began.
It was testament to how content she was with her presence in the future, with her family, that she found life without Myka and Christina and the promise of a future with them completely unimaginable.
"I know that I had to return to this time," Christina continued to plead her case. "My life is one big roundabout. I'd rather not return to it any older than I am. We think we might have found a way to make the time in the bronze more endurable," she added tentatively.
HG let her arm drop down to a waist and gazed at the girl expectantly. "How?"
"Rêves lucide," the teen answered cautiously. It was, as her parents had warned her before sending her on this mission, only a hypothetical solution, but there was sufficient reason to hope the answer lay in dreams.
"You think you will have an easier time of it if you're asleep?" Helena asked, beginning to mull over the idea. It did seem to have potential merit.
Eager to jump on the topic if her mother was in the mood to listen, Christina continued to explain. "A year could appear to pass in the space of a day and if I were able to control my dreams, so much the better."
"Lucid dreaming," HG repeated aloud. "You know of an artefact that will force this control?"
"Marquis d'Hervey de Saint-Denys wrote a book in 1867 called, Les Reves et Les Moyens de Les Diriger: Observations Pratique. It's in the Warehouse; Mrs Fredrick is going to find it out for me." She winced slightly at the annoyed expression on the older woman's face.
Helena sighed and ran her hands through her hair as she stood and resumed a slower pace across the room. "So let me get this straight… You knew when you arrived here that you would ask to be put into the bronze but you waited until now to tell me?"
"You had enough on your mind, Mum." The teen tried to explain but was cut off.
"I've been sitting around feeling useless all week! You didn't think I might benefit from a distraction at least?" HG argued, her irritation getting the better of her again. "I could have been working on the time machine or searching the database for alternatives."
"I know," Christina nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" The inventor wanted to know. "Give me a reason."
"The bronze works. We know that. Anything else would be an experiment and we wouldn't be able to guarantee success. Plus, the less time you spent in the Warehouse…" she trailed off as she became ashamed of the thoughts she was voicing.
Fixing her daughter with a resigned stare, HG finished, "The less temptation for me to abuse my position?"
Christina swallowed audibly. "Yeah. Not all of the regents are convinced of your redemption. They'd use any excuse to put you in bronze again and I couldn't let that happen."
Helena shook her head and laughed, the sound muffled beneath the hands that covered the lower half of her face. "Are our lives forever destined to be this way? One of us trying to save the other from the past?"
The teen smiled ruefully. "I guess. I understand, Mum. You want to spare me the pain, the torture you felt while trapped in the bronze, but thanks to you and Mama, I don't have the same weight on my soul. Your companions were guilt, grief, anger and an unquenchable desire for revenge. You had no reason to believe that there was anything good waiting for you when... if you were set free." She watched her mother's eyes fill with remorse and waited a beat before continuing. "I'm only going to be in bronze for a tenth of the time you were and I will go in knowing that my mission succeeded. That my family is safe while I'm immobile and that I will be emerging into a life that I've only recently left, where I have friends, loved ones and plans for my own future."
"I suppose when you put it that way, I can hardly compare your experience to my own. Ten years of solitary confinement is still a harsh sentence though, darling, not matter your sunny disposition going in."
"Which is why we intend to put me to sleep and give me control of my dreams for the duration."
"Point taken. I can see that someone has put thought into this. I do wish that you had told me sooner though." She took her space on the couch again, angled towards the teen. "How am I supposed to continue to live, knowing that you are trapped in the Warehouse?"
"Think of it this way," the young woman smiled cockily. "The more enjoyable you make my life growing up, the more positive memories I will have to keep me company until it's time for you to let me out."
HG smiled slowly, meeting the pleasantly surprised eyes that gazed back at her. Despite her misgivings, she was beginning to feel less anxious. It didn't necessarily mean that she would allow her baby to be put in prison without a fight but the idea was slowly losing the horror she'd initially felt. "Darling, as I keep telling you, I have looked into it and it is illegal for me to try to genetically modify a horse to make a unicorn."
"Not even one that barfs rainbows?" Christina chuckled at the memory of her juvenile demands and then laughed aloud as complete confusion covered her mother's face. "Sorry, pop-culture reference."
Helena shook her head and jumped to her feet, deciding not to waste any more time. "Come along," she ordered, making her way onto the landing and towards the stairs. "Chop-chop!"
"Where are we going?" The teen called as she scrambled after her mother.
"The Warehouse," HG answered, grabbing her coat and throwing one of Myka's at Christina. "I want to see what you and Mrs Fredrick have managed to come up with. If I am going to feel even remotely comfortable with this plan of yours, I will need to be brought up to speed. I am done with allowing everybody to railroad me with platitudes and half-truths."