Look to the Future

Helena clutched the object and asked Pete to keep an eye on the rest of the contents until she gave him further instructions. She wasn't sure where to put these things just yet.

Myka waited until they were both in the hallway of the townhouse before asking her what the object was that was in her hand.

"A declaration of trust," Helena said eloquently, knowing that this was the missing piece to her Time Machine, which lay dormant upstairs in a locked room. It was the key – literally - to making the machine operational. She slowly unwrapped it and showed Myka, who thought it was a jeweled carafe top.

"I don't understand. They gave you ….," Myka wondered out loud.

"The ability to use my Machine," Helena said slowly. Myka noticed that Helena fondled the object with great affection.

"You mean….?" Myka questioned and looked upstairs in the direction of the room where it was housed.

"Yes," Helena said, never taking her eyes off the object, as her fingers caressed it. The last time she attempted to use her Machine, there was such a power surge that the entire borough of Brooklyn was thrown into darkness. Without the true key, the Machine only appeared to be functioning. The jolt of electricity used to power it had nowhere to go, causing a fire and sending Helena to the Emergency Room.

"Helena, why would they give this to you?" Myka wondered because she knew the Warehouse seemed to do things that only benefited them.

"As I said, Darling, I think it's a peace offering," Helena said, smiling and looking at Myka. Helena had been determined to get it back one day. It was, after all, hers. But like many things that came with her through the ages, the agency declared that possession was nine tenths of the law.

"We can't keep it here," Myka declared rather firmly. She suddenly didn't agree with Helena that this was a generous offering of any kind. If she had to guess, and her gut instinct was doing that right now, she wondered if the Warehouse didn't want Helena to have the missing link closer – in order to use it.

"But I wouldn't….," Helena said looking up in the direction of her Machine. For Helena, it was more the principle.

"I don't care," Myka said, a little surprised that her concern found such a harsh tone. Her eyes darted back and forth as she tried to put her feelings into words. "Helena," she said, taking her wife by the arms and facing her. "….I don't think I'll ever really trust these people….," and in that second she saw Helena wince just the slightest. "…..to put you first," she added, trying to soften the blow. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel that way about them. I think they …it…., might feel you are still in service to …them…..it."

"You heard me put that notion to rest, did you not? Helena asked and Myka wasn't surprised that she sounded defensive.

Helena was trusting of the Warehouse and Myka wasn't. Did that mean Myka didn't trust Helena? The longer Myka took to answer, the more the hurt bubbled up in her wife. "You don't trust that I would come to you before…..," and then it was Helena who couldn't complete her sentence. Before what? Before she used it? Before she helped them? Her eyes moved swiftly to stare at Myka's and there was her answer – Myka's heartfelt concern and protectiveness for her. She was so used to being the one who swooped in to protect what was hers that she didn't always recognize when it was being done for her. Myka had just stood up to an unknown, powerful entity – to protect her.

Helena cast the crystal on the table and lunged at Myka to capture her in a kiss of undying gratitude. Myka's love for her surged through Helena's body – and traveled a path down and out until there wasn't a nerve ending that didn't feel it. "God, Myka, I do love you," Helena said, finally releasing Myka's lips that burned from the passionate touch. Myka slowly ran her tongue over her bottom lip to try to savor the kiss.

"I will always protect you, Helena," Myka said, staring into deep pools of gratitude. Long seconds passed as the two stared in each other's eyes and mouths opened, but no words escaped.

Finally, Helena spoke -

"We will find a safe place for it, away from here," she said and Myka felt the relief immediately.

Now Myka could concentrate at how gallant her spouse had been and how incredibly hot Helena looked in that leather jacket. "Am I to take it Mrs. Bering-Wells," Helena said as Myka pulled the coat open and left a trail of wet, warm kisses down Helena's neck, "….that you like me in this particular attire?"

Myka's head shot up and smoky green eyes made Helena's knees feel weak. "I like you in it very much," the sultry voice said, sending shivers down Helena's spine. "I'd like you even better …out of it." Myka deftly snapped the leather covering over Helena's shoulders and held it there, making it impossible for Helena to move her arms as she was pulled in by her wife to a full lip kiss. "You are such….," Myka said in a breathy tone that Helena could feel on her lips, "…a badass."

It was hard to determine which lover was more turned on by that word – the one who uttered it, or the one it was said about. Both women grabbed each other's hand and raced up the stairs to their bedroom.

Leena approached from the kitchen area and heard the stomping of feet and laughter as the couple ascended the stairs. "I guess I'll just keep dinner warm," she murmured as she returned to the pantry.

Although Claudia had given a great deal of thought to how she was going to propose, neither woman gave too much thought to how they would announce it to the Sullivan's. After landing in Manhattan, they took a taxi to Brooklyn where Kathleen and John Sullivan had both just arrived home from work.

"How are you?" John said, rubbing his wife's shoulders that ached after a long day of nursing at the hospital.

"Oh, right there," Kathleen begged as she gave into the soothing ministrations of her husband's strong hands. He bent down and kissed her on the head and asked if he could help with dinner.

"Just leftovers," she announced as she put the water on for spaghetti. She pulled the tray of baked chicken parmesan from last night and put it in the over to reheat it. It was one of Eileen's favorite meals and she often sent a large helping of it into her daughter when John 'happened' to stop by the Penthouse in Manhattan to fix something that didn't need fixing. The girls were great about visiting every Sunday for family dinner, but Kathleen knew it was hard on them to do so. Her daughter was taking graduate courses now at the premier business school, Wharton. She was in charge of more projects than Kathleen seemed to be able to count. Claudia always seemed to be involved in some new technology program at work. Would it be any easier, she wondered, when they were married? How can two people have a life if they're both wrapped up in one business? She shuddered to think how much of her daughter's life would be devoted to that job. She saw no parallel between her and John and the young couple.

"Surprise!" came the shout through the front door and John and Kathleen knew exactly who it was. They both went quickly to greet their daughter.

"Hello!" John said, hugging Claudia first because he never wanted her to feel second. "How are my girls? Everything okay at the apartment?" he asked, hoping something needed his attention.

"We're fine, Dad," Eileen smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"I don't know, Eileen. I think the dishwasher is making ….that noise," Claudia said and John's face lit up. He always wanted to take a crack at a dishwasher.

"No it's…," Eileen started to say, but caught the expression on her girlfriend's face. "Oh, yes, it's not…working right. You're right," she said, saving the ruse.

"Staying for dinner?" Kathleen asked, hoping they could.

"Mom, Dad," Eileen said and both parents knew from the glow on their daughter's face, the moment was here. They watched as she bit her lip – the telltale sign of sheer excitement in their daughter – and took Claudia's hands. She spoke to them, but she faced her fiancée and said; "Claudia just asked me to marry her and I said yes."

In spite of not being totally surprised, the parents rushed at the couple, circled them with their arms, and literally squished them in hug. The younger women were thrust together by the warm and loving embrace and Eileen had to ask her parents to let go a little.

"This is wonderful news," John Sullivan said as he put his arm around Claudia's shoulders. "Your mother and I couldn't be happier for you."

"Thanks, Dad," Eileen said, leaning into to hug the man who's eyes were filling up with tears.

"Tell me how it happened," Kathleen said, wanting to hear what creative scheme her future daughter-in-law did had finally come up with.

The two women locked eyes and they stared as they remembered that they hadn't quite worked out that part. "How?" Eileen asked. "It happened?" continued Claudia. "Oh, you know, how do any of these things happen?" Claudia stammered. "Yeah, the moment seemed right….," Eileen added.

Both of them knew their fabrications weren't working, but given who her parents were, the Sullivan's smiled and waited. Their daughter would get around to explaining things, they both knew.

"I'm getting the champagne," John announced and got everyone back on track.

Within minutes, the four Waterford crystal glasses that were only taken out for holidays and special occasions were filled with the bubbly elixir. "To Claudia and Eileen, - May the road rise up to meet you," the man began the quintessential Irish blessing, "May the wind always be at your back; May the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains soft upon your fields and until we meet again; May God hold you in the palm of His hand."

There wasn't a dry eye in the house by the time the rosy cheeked man finished the blessing. Then he lifted up his glass with the others and everyone took a sip. There was another round of hugs and John Sullivan promised to reword the prayer to include something about computer programs never getting viruses – just for his future daughter-in-law.

Then the newly engaged couple sat down to dinner. Claudia was pleasantly surprised her future in-laws didn't ask a single question about the where, when and how of the impending nuptials. They would never pressure them like that.

The young couple laughed when they got home over their faux pas of nearing spilling the beans. "I'm not sure how I would have explained that," Eileen said, getting very serious. "I mean, I'm probably going to tell them, but tonight wasn't the time."

"You're going to tell them…that government agents …kidnapped you…. and took you upstate and used you as bait. You're going to tell your mother that? All so some…. strange ….," Claudia said, looking around as if checking to see if anyone else was there, "…something could get Helena to come up there? You're going to tell Kathleen Sullivan that?" Claudia asked incredulously. "Where will we hide when she comes to the office to speak to Helena?"

"Oh," the woman who was staring at her engagement ring said, looking up. "Good point."

"I do not want to get caught between those two," Claudia said, already worried what would happen when Kathleen spent any amount of time with Helena.

"Nor do I," Eileen said, keenly aware that the subject of Helena Wells was still a sore one for her mother.

"Let's save that for another day," Claudia said, grabbing two Jello cups from the refrigerator that now held only a container of milk. "Besides, we have more important things to do."

"Like decide which side of the aisle Helena is going to sit at?" Eileen teased as she scooped a blob of cherry gelatin and spoon fed it to her fiancée.

"I was thinking more….," Claudia said, spooning some blue Jello and feeding it to Eileen, "…what to break on the dishwasher. Have we ever used it?"

Eileen laughed so hard that she had to cover her mouth so the slippery contents didn't spill. That's when she noticed the oddest sensation in her mouth. "Whah ez da esperation dat on dis?" she asked about the snack food.

Claudia looked at the cover and read the date – exactly two years past the use by date. "Where did we get this?" Eileen asked after she and the techie spit out the contents in the sink.

"Remember when you asked me to move in here with you? And you said pack everything up because we didn't need two apartments? Well, I packed everything!" Claudia said, shrugging her shoulders.

If there was anyone who could be more lovable while looking sheepish, Eileen didn't know them. "Thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world," Eileen said, putting her arms around Claudia's neck and touching her forehead to hers.

This life event was making a whole lot of emotions swirl inside for the techie and she was getting a little overwhelmed. She was happy, scared, madly in love and walking into something she knew nothing about. Shouldn't someone have prepared her for this? Shouldn't someone have told her to get ready for the flood of feelings?

Shouldn't …..Helena?

She was going to have to take that up with her first thing in the morning.

Pete and Jane were a little surprised to see Officer Bell, the police officer assigned to Jane, sitting on the steps to the entrance of their apartment. Jane didn't recognize her at first, because she wasn't in her uniform. But when she saw Jane approach, she shot up and stood at attention.

"Bell?" Jane asked, staring at her hair that was still tied back tightly in a bun. "What are you…" she started to ask, but the young woman was already speaking.

"Detective Tierney, I am sorry to disturb you at home, but when you didn't come into work today and it wasn't on the official calendar, I thought something might have happened. Then the news came in about the smuggling ring that you busted….," the woman said, almost out of breath.

"News travels fast," Jane said to Pete.

"…..and I thought it odd that you didn't tell me about it and I thought maybe it was because I'm not doing my job the way you want …and I ….," but that was all the woman could get out without taking in any more air.

"Bell!" Jane said, surprised at the woman's diatribe. "Sit down, take a deep breath," the older woman said and sat next to her young charge on the top step. "Where did you get this idea? Never mind. It's nothing like that. I took ….the day …..off because ..," Jane said, looking at Pete for help.

"Because we got engaged!" Pete said and Jane smiled broadly at what a good answer that was.

"See?" Jane said, shoving her ringed finger in the youth's face.

"Oh, congratulations," the twenty something said flatly. "I mean, that's nice." She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked down the block. "I guess I should be going…," she said, but didn't move.

Pete looked at the woman, trying to figure out what was going on. His vibes told him she was sad, but at what? He jerked his head towards her telling Jane to do something.

"I'm ….eh….going to have a lot of paperwork to do tomorrow. I…hope you're going to be free…you know …to assist me on that," she fumbled, trying to guess what would help.

"Really?" Bell said, her intonation conveying that she was actually excited at the thought.

Pete stared at her because he couldn't imagine anything more boring, but Jane knew what it really meant to the young officer. "Yeah, lots of it so …you know….show up at eight with two coffees, okay?" Jane asked, trying to sound stern but missing by a mile.

"I will, Detective," the off duty officer said, snapping back at attention and then going down the steps, wearing a brand new attitude. "And congratulations. You're a lucky man."

With that, the woman practically ran down the block to prepare for her work day tomorrow.

"She is wound a little tight," Jane said, smiling..

"I think she likes you," Pete said and understood why. Like him, Bell saw through the tough exterior that his fiancée wore like armor.

"I don't get it," Jane said as she and Pete went into their building.

Adwin Kosan should have been exhausted by the past few days, but he stood there tall in a suit that looked as if he never sat down in it. He had released his three agents and using the very cuff links that had been given to Damien, he convinced them they had never been there, nor seen what they did. They wouldn't remember the trip to Manhattan, the kidnapping of Eileen, the apartment on Sutton Place, nor visiting the Warehouse. He had them driven to the nearest train station and they were all on their way back to Washington, DC. Then he returned to South Dakota, taking the short cut and spoke to Andy who masterminded the plan. Andy begged his boss to remember that the Warehouse had never communicated with them directly before. Adwin took this into consideration when he sentenced Andy – to move to the new location and temporarily oversee the Warehouse.

"Sure, I don't mind missing my vacation…again," Andy said, hoping Kosan didn't hear the last part. He had.

"The Warehouse staff is …in flux, Mr. Nelson," Adwin explained.

"Won't the Caretaker…be back….?" Andy asked, already packing his desk up.

"Yes, she will. But we have been asked to plan for …the future. The possibilities," Adwin shared and Andy detected some hesitation in his voice. He usually didn't share many detains and those he did, were usually bullet points.

"The future….. like next week?" Andy asked, fishing for details.

Adwin had said enough and he knew it. He tilted his head, smiled and proceeded to walk down the long tunnel out of the building to his car.

Andy returned to his desk and packed up the last of his things before heading out. He listened to the constant humming outside the room which indicated the move to the new location was in full swing. Maybe his boss was talking about the new staff. Maybe he would get to retire after all. He sat back down at the desk and typed the question he thought would give him that answer.

"How long will it take," he typed with two fingers.

The answer appeared on the screen. Andy looked, squeezed his eyes shut and looked again. That can't be right, he thought as he grabbed his beaten up brief case and a bankers box. "I'm going to need a vacation before that!" Andy bellowed as he walked down the entryway.

There on the screen was what had him so bothered. The answer to how long it would take to get the person the Warehouse wanted -

- Nine months, eighteen years.