FF: Time After Time | Warehouse 13 | HG/Myka | NC-17 | Part 4
Propriety dictated that Myka, or rather, William Cross, lead the first dance with Lady Ainesworth. Thankfully, they began with a pleasant waltz, and for once Myka looked back fondly on the years her mother had forced her to attend cotillion lessons, where being the tallest girl plus a shortage of boys often meant Myka learned to lead and not follow. From there Myka simply stood back and let practically everyone else come to her. A visiting Irish viscount was a novelty in the English countryside, and many of the guests knew they would not likely get the chance to rub elbows again with a peer of the realm of so high a caliber. Her companions, however, were mostly men, and Myka learned quickly that it was easy enough to let them steer the conversation if you simply asked the question, “And what do you do for business?”
If anyone noticed that her eyes wandered during the conversation, inevitably finding Helena wherever she was in the room at any given moment, well… no one dared say anything to such a distinguished guest. No one, except Lord Marbury.
“She’s lovely, William,” he smirked over a glass of wine, eyeing Helena up and down appreciatively. Myka barely resisted the urge to deck him. “A former dalliance or a future conquest?”
“We only just met before the ball,” she answered, trying to keep her tone level.
“Ahhh, a future conquest.”
“I don’t think she’s the type of woman who wishes to be conquered, my Lord.”
“Oh pish, all women want to be conquered, William,” Marbury teased, nudging his shoulder good naturedly. “They know we love the chase, and we know they love the conquest, and together it makes for the most delicious game of hunter and prey that man shall ever know. Speaking of which - are you prepared for your grand safari?”
“As prepared as I can be.”
“Your father always wished he could get to Africa on a safari like this. It’s good of you to honor his memory with this trip, William.”
“It… seemed like the right thing to do.”
“I just wish I could go with you. I’ve always wanted to hunt big game - William? Is something wrong?”
Myka felt the heat rush over her as the room twisted and tilted like an amusement park ride. Just as quickly as it came it was gone, but the wave of vertigo had left her pale and sweating. “Uh… yes... just over heated I think… all the travel… maybe some air?”
“Yes, absolutely. Go take some air and get yourself a stiff drink. It’ll put some strength back in your legs.”
Myka nodded, forcing a smile, and managed to get across the room and out onto the patio without being accosted by anyone else. She walked to the far corner of the veranda, grasping at the wide stone railing to steady herself as she gulped in air. Her head was throbbing, but at least the initial nausea was passing.
She stayed concealed in the dark corner of the patio as the doors opened again, and Lady Ainesworth stepped out, followed by her husband. “Splendid party my dear, you really have out done yourself once again.”
“Thank you, Henry. I’m quite pleased with it.”
“You’re quite pleased with your matchmaking skills.”
“More than one couple has been joined in holy matrimony after meeting at one of my soirees.”
“And who is the lucky couple you have your sights set on tonight?”
“I’d hoped for Miss Wells to perhaps make a suitable match.” Henry Ainesworth grumbled something Myka couldn’t quite hear. “Oh, now, don’t be like that. She’s a lovely young woman.”
“With quite the reputation.”
“Quite an exaggerated reputation, I assure you. The rumor about her and the Prime Minister’s secretary is a complete fabrication.”
“What about the rumor of her and the Breckinridge sisters?” Lady Ainesworth stayed silent. “And that brother of hers,” Henry continued. “You know he’s been introducing himself to every MP and businessman at the party. Making some ridiculous claims about investments returning 300%.”
“What was I supposed to do Henry? The girl needed an escort. I promised her mother-”
“-A fool’s errand-”
“-That I would see her wed and comfortable. It’s not Helena’s fault her brother’s nearly squandered their fortune.”
“Soon, the only thing of value either of them will have is what little prestige is left in being the children of a textile merchant who made enough money to buy his way into a knighthood.”
“Henry, please…”
“Some people simply cannot be saved, Mary, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”
Lady Ainesworth sighed heavily. “Let’s go back and enjoy the party.”
Myka waited until she heard the door shut to step out of the shadows. Across the veranda, her eyes caught on someone else stepping from hiding: Helena.
Propriety be damned, she couldn’t stop herself from taking another step toward Helena. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”
“It is nothing I haven’t heard before,” Helena assured her, a forced smile her shield over the pain Myka could see plainly in her eyes. “People talk. I can’t stop them.”
“It doesn’t excuse them from spreading lies.”
“That’s the thing,” Helena quipped wryly. “They’re not lies. Exaggerations, perhaps, but not lies. My brother is a gambler and a spendthrift and he’s nearly bankrupted us. And I…”
“You prefer the company of the fairer sex,” Myka offered solicitously.
“At times,” Helena agreed. “And at times, not.” Relaxing some, Helena took a step farther into the light cascading from the house, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Myka thoroughly. “Does that shock you?”
“I think you will find, Miss Wells,” Myka smirked, leaning in conspiratorially, “it takes quite a bit to shock me.”
Laughing, Helena smiled warmly back. “Perhaps I was wrong about you after all. Which means I should truly apologize for holding you at gunpoint earlier.”
“No, the fault was completely mine. I’m used to taking some… liberties… that aren’t as well received in polite society. I must say though, it’s the rare exception to find such a beautiful woman holding such a deadly weapon.”
“Oh, that thing? It’s not even loaded,” Helena confided with a relieved laugh. “I hate the thing, but Charles insists I keep it with me. He’s convinced some brigand is going to molest me one night on the streets of London.”
“You’re his sister, of course he’s protective of you.”
“He’s protective of my connections,” Helena corrected. “Lord Ainesworth spoke truly. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone in that room who doesn’t find my brother to be a complete annoyance.”
“Including you,” Myka asked in genuine curiosity. Again, the files on Helena’s life had been light on information prior to her service at the Warehouse, and almost completely devoid of information on her brother.
“He’s my brother,” Helena answered simply. “For good or ill, he’s my responsibility. If we were allowed to disown anyone for simple annoyance, most of the Royal family would be out on the streets ages ago.”
Myka laughed, adding, “Not to mention Parliament.”
“Well, you would know.”
There it was, Myka realized, the banter, the teasing, the flirting that seemed so natural despite the year, or in this case, the bodies. Time didn’t change who they were, or the fact they were meant to be together.
“Would you-”
“-I should be going back in,” Helena cut off. In a matter of seconds, Myka watched the openness in the other woman’s eyes disappear, locked away behind a mask of distant politeness. Something had spooked her, but for the life of her, Myka couldn’t guess at what.
“Please, let me escort you…” Myka trailed off as a wave of nausea hit her again. She gulped in air, but couldn’t stop the lightheadedness that followed. Desperately, she reached out and grabbed Helena’s arm, trying to stay upright. “My… apologies… I don’t feel very well…”
“Here, lean on me,” Helena reassured, holding Myka up with surprising strength, “we’ll get Lord Ainesworth and help you up to your room.”
They shuffled slowly toward the house, getting inside far enough that Helena was able to subtly wave their host over and explain that Viscount Cross had been hit with a sudden illness. Ainesworth immediately sprang into action, helping to discreetly get Myka back up stairs and into her room without too much notice from the other guests.
“Should I fetch a doctor?”
“No, please,” Myka insisted. “I think I’m just… exhausted… from the travel…” she tried to vaguely explain. “Just some quiet and rest and I should be alright.”
“Of course. I’ll let everyone know not to disturb you.”
“Thank you, Lord Ainesworth.”
“Oh, speaking of travel - your other trunk was delivered during the party. The livery service was most apologetic.” Myka nodded, not particularly caring as another wave of nausea washed over her. Ainesworth easily noted her discomfort and extended his arm to Helena. “Shall we rejoin the party my dear?”
She wanted to stay. Myka knew it as soon as she looked into Helena’s eyes, but something held her back. Propriety, perhaps? A sense of mistrust still from their earlier encounter? Or perhaps whatever had made Helena shut down so quickly out on the veranda?
Whatever it was, Helena merely smiled, wished Myka a good night, and let Lord Ainesworth escort her out.
Myka closed her eyes and tried desperately not to throw up.
~*~
“Okay, that should do it,” Claudia sighed heavily.
Everything had been going along fine in HG’s secret lair, so well in fact that Pete had gone for a food and coffee run. Which was, of course, when all hell broke loose. The TM200, despite being tapped into the Univille power lines was dropping power at regular intervals and seemed to be drawing more and more energy from the lines than what the machine was designed to process. The power had started to fluctuate rapidly until Claudia had finally managed to jerry rig an auxiliary power filter to regulate the fluctuations. And that was when Pete decided to show back up.
“Anything happen while I was gone,” he asked worriedly, staring at Myka’s thankfully placid face.
“Uh… no, not really.”
“Okay, good. I started to get a bad vibe while I was at the store, so I just high tailed it back here. Remind me to go back tomorrow and pay.”
“Deal.”
Claudia cracked open another Red Bull and sat back to wait some more.
~*~
Myka didn’t dream. Barely slept really, but laid there in that twilight realm between sleep and consciousness, floating until her head finally stopped pounding and the nausea subsided. She assumed it was a side-effect of the time travel and prayed it wouldn’t return any time soon. Getting up from the bed, she splashed some water on her face, and stripped down to her pants, rinsing off the sweat and stickiness of a night’s illness. She went to the open trunk to find something suitably to change into but all it held was daily clothing.
She tried to open the second trunk and found it locked, a situation quickly remedied when she discovered the key on the dresser. To her relief there were clean underclothes and toiletries, but even more importantly, nestled beneath socks and handkerchiefs, were William Cross’s journals. There was too much to protocol and history, too little she knew about the situation and people who surrounded her, to be able to fake it for very long. Turning up the gas lamp, she settled back into the bed once more with the journals and started to read.
Hours passed as read through William’s journal, trying to glean every relevant fact, every possible angle she might be questioned about. Although Claudia had told her the time machine’s capacity was somewhere between 48-72 hours there was no way to be certain of it. After all, Claudia had also thought she was sending her ten days into the past, not 128 years.
Fears and questions worked through her mind without answer: Would she still be sent back to the Warehouse after 72 hours? Would it last longer? Shorter? Could she come back? Would she be stuck as William Cross forever?
Now, as daylight started to filter through her window, chasing away the cold, gray morning, she pushed the journals aside. She put on fresh clothing, mystified yet again at the foreign body she was occupying. She’d been gawky as a child, a bit lanky and uncoordinated when a growth spurt had shot her up 4 inches in about as many months. She felt similar now, as if nothing fit quite right. If she hadn’t already had the unpleasant experience of being swapped into Pete’s body, she wouldn’t have known what to do with herself, likely would have tripped over her own two feet and probably been significantly more freaked out. Who would have thought body-swapping could come in so handy?
There was less trepidation as Myka left her room, both due to the fact she’d fortified herself with as much knowledge as possible, and also from the earliness of the morning. She highly doubted that anyone else was awake, given how late the festivities had run the evening before. Making her way to the kitchen, she bid the cook a pleasant good morning much to the older woman’s surprise. She was informed that breakfast was not yet ready, but Myka assured her it was no problem. Securing some leftover rolls and cheese from the party, and a cup of tea strong enough to strip nails, Myka headed for the large patio that overlooked the gardens at the back of the estate. To her utter surprise, someone else had beat her to the spot.
“Good morning, Miss Wells.”
Helena looked up in annoyance. To Myka’s relief, she seemed bothered by the interruption at least, and not by the person who had done the interrupting. “Good morning, my Lord.”
“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, I can come back later,” Myka offered with a smile. She could see Helena wanting desperately to take her up on the offer, but good manners prevailed.
“Nonsense. I would enjoy the company. How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you.” Myka took a seat across from her, and offered one of her pilfered rolls. For some reason it made Helena smile. She took a roll pulled a piece off to eat. “May I ask what you are working on?”
“Nothing really, just scribbles. I highly doubt you would be interested.”
“Try me.” Reluctantly, Helena slid her notes across the table. Myka looked them over with interest, smiling. “Refractive light indices? Very interesting.”
“You know the concept,” Helena asked, honestly stunned at Myka’s answer and interest.
“Some,” Myka answered. “Just the basics really. It’s partly based off Snell’s law isn’t it?”
“It is,” Helena beamed. What lingering discomfort from night before was lost as Helena scooted her chair closer and began pointing to her notes. “You see here, Snell’s law states that the ratio of the sines of the angles of incidence and refraction is equivalent to the ratio of phase velocities in the two media, or equivalent to the opposite ratio of the indices of refraction. It follows from Fermat’s principle of least time, which in turn follows from the propagation of light as waves.”
“Fascinating,” Myka grinned, only understanding about every fourth word Helena had said. “Light as waves. But I thought some scientists speculated that light is a particle, not a wave.”
“I’ve read that as well,” Helena agreed. “Perhaps it is both - wave and particle?”
“Wouldn’t that be something,” Myka laughed. “So, why the interest in refractive light indices if I might ask?”
To Myka’s utter amazement, she saw Helena blush. Just the lightest touch of color to her cheeks, but it was utterly charming. “It’s nothing really, just an idea I had.”
“Tell me, please,” Myka asked, stretching her hand out to cover Helena’s on the table. Perhaps it was against custom, but Helena didn’t pull away.
“Charles thinks it is silly,” Helena rolled her eyes, “but I have been thinking… if I person could somehow match their refractive light index to their surroundings - perhaps even the very air - then they would essentially become… invisible.”
And there it was, Myka realized. The beginnings of literary genius born out in front of her. So this was where the idea for The Invisible Man came from. One of the most influential novels in the entire genre of science fiction, and Helena was worried the idea was silly.
“That’s brilliant.” And it was. Helena’s mind moved in ways that Myka found astounding, taking three logical steps before Myka had even made the first. It had been that way since they first met, and now Myka could see the beginnings of it. “What else have you been thinking about?”
It was a simple question, but with the door open now, Helena didn’t hold back. They talked of science, of literature, and opera. One topic fed into the next, such that Myka forgot herself completely in the conversation and simply sat back and enjoyed the way Helena brushed her hair back behind her shoulder, the way she leaned forward in interest when Myka spoke of Shakespeare, the way the morning light brought out the richness of her eyes and made them sparkle each time she laughed devilishly. Here was Helena, younger of course, less burdened by the weight of time and pain, but the same woman at her core: intelligent, funny, self-assured and gloriously alive.
At that moment, the twenty-first century, the Warehouse, the universe itself could have taken a flying leap for all Myka cared. She would have given anything to stay there, to watch Helena smile with such careless abandon it made her ache.
“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise this morning.” Myka knew it would come eventually, but the intrusion of Lady Ainesworth nevertheless drew an inward growl. “I see you two have been keeping each other’s company.”
“Lord Cross has been kind enough to indulge my whims of fantasy.”
“Nonsense, they were quite brilliant insights.” Myka argued, smiling broadly at Lady Ainesworth.
“Hmm, so it seems,” Lady Ainesworth smiled, her mind already calculating the probabilities and possibilities toward a match. “Lord Marbury was looking for you Viscount. He asked if you would come join him in the study for a late breakfast.”
“Yes, thank you for the message.” Myka stood up, and on impulse, took Helena’s hand, kissing it softly. “I look forward to our next conversation. On any subject you might desire to discuss.”
Helena smiled broadly. “As do I, my Lord.”
As Myka walked away, she heard Lady Ainesworth whisper, “Won’t your brother be so happy about this?”
Part Five
If anyone noticed that her eyes wandered during the conversation, inevitably finding Helena wherever she was in the room at any given moment, well… no one dared say anything to such a distinguished guest. No one, except Lord Marbury.
“She’s lovely, William,” he smirked over a glass of wine, eyeing Helena up and down appreciatively. Myka barely resisted the urge to deck him. “A former dalliance or a future conquest?”
“We only just met before the ball,” she answered, trying to keep her tone level.
“Ahhh, a future conquest.”
“I don’t think she’s the type of woman who wishes to be conquered, my Lord.”
“Oh pish, all women want to be conquered, William,” Marbury teased, nudging his shoulder good naturedly. “They know we love the chase, and we know they love the conquest, and together it makes for the most delicious game of hunter and prey that man shall ever know. Speaking of which - are you prepared for your grand safari?”
“As prepared as I can be.”
“Your father always wished he could get to Africa on a safari like this. It’s good of you to honor his memory with this trip, William.”
“It… seemed like the right thing to do.”
“I just wish I could go with you. I’ve always wanted to hunt big game - William? Is something wrong?”
Myka felt the heat rush over her as the room twisted and tilted like an amusement park ride. Just as quickly as it came it was gone, but the wave of vertigo had left her pale and sweating. “Uh… yes... just over heated I think… all the travel… maybe some air?”
“Yes, absolutely. Go take some air and get yourself a stiff drink. It’ll put some strength back in your legs.”
Myka nodded, forcing a smile, and managed to get across the room and out onto the patio without being accosted by anyone else. She walked to the far corner of the veranda, grasping at the wide stone railing to steady herself as she gulped in air. Her head was throbbing, but at least the initial nausea was passing.
She stayed concealed in the dark corner of the patio as the doors opened again, and Lady Ainesworth stepped out, followed by her husband. “Splendid party my dear, you really have out done yourself once again.”
“Thank you, Henry. I’m quite pleased with it.”
“You’re quite pleased with your matchmaking skills.”
“More than one couple has been joined in holy matrimony after meeting at one of my soirees.”
“And who is the lucky couple you have your sights set on tonight?”
“I’d hoped for Miss Wells to perhaps make a suitable match.” Henry Ainesworth grumbled something Myka couldn’t quite hear. “Oh, now, don’t be like that. She’s a lovely young woman.”
“With quite the reputation.”
“Quite an exaggerated reputation, I assure you. The rumor about her and the Prime Minister’s secretary is a complete fabrication.”
“What about the rumor of her and the Breckinridge sisters?” Lady Ainesworth stayed silent. “And that brother of hers,” Henry continued. “You know he’s been introducing himself to every MP and businessman at the party. Making some ridiculous claims about investments returning 300%.”
“What was I supposed to do Henry? The girl needed an escort. I promised her mother-”
“-A fool’s errand-”
“-That I would see her wed and comfortable. It’s not Helena’s fault her brother’s nearly squandered their fortune.”
“Soon, the only thing of value either of them will have is what little prestige is left in being the children of a textile merchant who made enough money to buy his way into a knighthood.”
“Henry, please…”
“Some people simply cannot be saved, Mary, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”
Lady Ainesworth sighed heavily. “Let’s go back and enjoy the party.”
Myka waited until she heard the door shut to step out of the shadows. Across the veranda, her eyes caught on someone else stepping from hiding: Helena.
Propriety be damned, she couldn’t stop herself from taking another step toward Helena. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”
“It is nothing I haven’t heard before,” Helena assured her, a forced smile her shield over the pain Myka could see plainly in her eyes. “People talk. I can’t stop them.”
“It doesn’t excuse them from spreading lies.”
“That’s the thing,” Helena quipped wryly. “They’re not lies. Exaggerations, perhaps, but not lies. My brother is a gambler and a spendthrift and he’s nearly bankrupted us. And I…”
“You prefer the company of the fairer sex,” Myka offered solicitously.
“At times,” Helena agreed. “And at times, not.” Relaxing some, Helena took a step farther into the light cascading from the house, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Myka thoroughly. “Does that shock you?”
“I think you will find, Miss Wells,” Myka smirked, leaning in conspiratorially, “it takes quite a bit to shock me.”
Laughing, Helena smiled warmly back. “Perhaps I was wrong about you after all. Which means I should truly apologize for holding you at gunpoint earlier.”
“No, the fault was completely mine. I’m used to taking some… liberties… that aren’t as well received in polite society. I must say though, it’s the rare exception to find such a beautiful woman holding such a deadly weapon.”
“Oh, that thing? It’s not even loaded,” Helena confided with a relieved laugh. “I hate the thing, but Charles insists I keep it with me. He’s convinced some brigand is going to molest me one night on the streets of London.”
“You’re his sister, of course he’s protective of you.”
“He’s protective of my connections,” Helena corrected. “Lord Ainesworth spoke truly. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone in that room who doesn’t find my brother to be a complete annoyance.”
“Including you,” Myka asked in genuine curiosity. Again, the files on Helena’s life had been light on information prior to her service at the Warehouse, and almost completely devoid of information on her brother.
“He’s my brother,” Helena answered simply. “For good or ill, he’s my responsibility. If we were allowed to disown anyone for simple annoyance, most of the Royal family would be out on the streets ages ago.”
Myka laughed, adding, “Not to mention Parliament.”
“Well, you would know.”
There it was, Myka realized, the banter, the teasing, the flirting that seemed so natural despite the year, or in this case, the bodies. Time didn’t change who they were, or the fact they were meant to be together.
“Would you-”
“-I should be going back in,” Helena cut off. In a matter of seconds, Myka watched the openness in the other woman’s eyes disappear, locked away behind a mask of distant politeness. Something had spooked her, but for the life of her, Myka couldn’t guess at what.
“Please, let me escort you…” Myka trailed off as a wave of nausea hit her again. She gulped in air, but couldn’t stop the lightheadedness that followed. Desperately, she reached out and grabbed Helena’s arm, trying to stay upright. “My… apologies… I don’t feel very well…”
“Here, lean on me,” Helena reassured, holding Myka up with surprising strength, “we’ll get Lord Ainesworth and help you up to your room.”
They shuffled slowly toward the house, getting inside far enough that Helena was able to subtly wave their host over and explain that Viscount Cross had been hit with a sudden illness. Ainesworth immediately sprang into action, helping to discreetly get Myka back up stairs and into her room without too much notice from the other guests.
“Should I fetch a doctor?”
“No, please,” Myka insisted. “I think I’m just… exhausted… from the travel…” she tried to vaguely explain. “Just some quiet and rest and I should be alright.”
“Of course. I’ll let everyone know not to disturb you.”
“Thank you, Lord Ainesworth.”
“Oh, speaking of travel - your other trunk was delivered during the party. The livery service was most apologetic.” Myka nodded, not particularly caring as another wave of nausea washed over her. Ainesworth easily noted her discomfort and extended his arm to Helena. “Shall we rejoin the party my dear?”
She wanted to stay. Myka knew it as soon as she looked into Helena’s eyes, but something held her back. Propriety, perhaps? A sense of mistrust still from their earlier encounter? Or perhaps whatever had made Helena shut down so quickly out on the veranda?
Whatever it was, Helena merely smiled, wished Myka a good night, and let Lord Ainesworth escort her out.
Myka closed her eyes and tried desperately not to throw up.
~*~
“Okay, that should do it,” Claudia sighed heavily.
Everything had been going along fine in HG’s secret lair, so well in fact that Pete had gone for a food and coffee run. Which was, of course, when all hell broke loose. The TM200, despite being tapped into the Univille power lines was dropping power at regular intervals and seemed to be drawing more and more energy from the lines than what the machine was designed to process. The power had started to fluctuate rapidly until Claudia had finally managed to jerry rig an auxiliary power filter to regulate the fluctuations. And that was when Pete decided to show back up.
“Anything happen while I was gone,” he asked worriedly, staring at Myka’s thankfully placid face.
“Uh… no, not really.”
“Okay, good. I started to get a bad vibe while I was at the store, so I just high tailed it back here. Remind me to go back tomorrow and pay.”
“Deal.”
Claudia cracked open another Red Bull and sat back to wait some more.
~*~
Myka didn’t dream. Barely slept really, but laid there in that twilight realm between sleep and consciousness, floating until her head finally stopped pounding and the nausea subsided. She assumed it was a side-effect of the time travel and prayed it wouldn’t return any time soon. Getting up from the bed, she splashed some water on her face, and stripped down to her pants, rinsing off the sweat and stickiness of a night’s illness. She went to the open trunk to find something suitably to change into but all it held was daily clothing.
She tried to open the second trunk and found it locked, a situation quickly remedied when she discovered the key on the dresser. To her relief there were clean underclothes and toiletries, but even more importantly, nestled beneath socks and handkerchiefs, were William Cross’s journals. There was too much to protocol and history, too little she knew about the situation and people who surrounded her, to be able to fake it for very long. Turning up the gas lamp, she settled back into the bed once more with the journals and started to read.
Hours passed as read through William’s journal, trying to glean every relevant fact, every possible angle she might be questioned about. Although Claudia had told her the time machine’s capacity was somewhere between 48-72 hours there was no way to be certain of it. After all, Claudia had also thought she was sending her ten days into the past, not 128 years.
Fears and questions worked through her mind without answer: Would she still be sent back to the Warehouse after 72 hours? Would it last longer? Shorter? Could she come back? Would she be stuck as William Cross forever?
Now, as daylight started to filter through her window, chasing away the cold, gray morning, she pushed the journals aside. She put on fresh clothing, mystified yet again at the foreign body she was occupying. She’d been gawky as a child, a bit lanky and uncoordinated when a growth spurt had shot her up 4 inches in about as many months. She felt similar now, as if nothing fit quite right. If she hadn’t already had the unpleasant experience of being swapped into Pete’s body, she wouldn’t have known what to do with herself, likely would have tripped over her own two feet and probably been significantly more freaked out. Who would have thought body-swapping could come in so handy?
There was less trepidation as Myka left her room, both due to the fact she’d fortified herself with as much knowledge as possible, and also from the earliness of the morning. She highly doubted that anyone else was awake, given how late the festivities had run the evening before. Making her way to the kitchen, she bid the cook a pleasant good morning much to the older woman’s surprise. She was informed that breakfast was not yet ready, but Myka assured her it was no problem. Securing some leftover rolls and cheese from the party, and a cup of tea strong enough to strip nails, Myka headed for the large patio that overlooked the gardens at the back of the estate. To her utter surprise, someone else had beat her to the spot.
“Good morning, Miss Wells.”
Helena looked up in annoyance. To Myka’s relief, she seemed bothered by the interruption at least, and not by the person who had done the interrupting. “Good morning, my Lord.”
“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, I can come back later,” Myka offered with a smile. She could see Helena wanting desperately to take her up on the offer, but good manners prevailed.
“Nonsense. I would enjoy the company. How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you.” Myka took a seat across from her, and offered one of her pilfered rolls. For some reason it made Helena smile. She took a roll pulled a piece off to eat. “May I ask what you are working on?”
“Nothing really, just scribbles. I highly doubt you would be interested.”
“Try me.” Reluctantly, Helena slid her notes across the table. Myka looked them over with interest, smiling. “Refractive light indices? Very interesting.”
“You know the concept,” Helena asked, honestly stunned at Myka’s answer and interest.
“Some,” Myka answered. “Just the basics really. It’s partly based off Snell’s law isn’t it?”
“It is,” Helena beamed. What lingering discomfort from night before was lost as Helena scooted her chair closer and began pointing to her notes. “You see here, Snell’s law states that the ratio of the sines of the angles of incidence and refraction is equivalent to the ratio of phase velocities in the two media, or equivalent to the opposite ratio of the indices of refraction. It follows from Fermat’s principle of least time, which in turn follows from the propagation of light as waves.”
“Fascinating,” Myka grinned, only understanding about every fourth word Helena had said. “Light as waves. But I thought some scientists speculated that light is a particle, not a wave.”
“I’ve read that as well,” Helena agreed. “Perhaps it is both - wave and particle?”
“Wouldn’t that be something,” Myka laughed. “So, why the interest in refractive light indices if I might ask?”
To Myka’s utter amazement, she saw Helena blush. Just the lightest touch of color to her cheeks, but it was utterly charming. “It’s nothing really, just an idea I had.”
“Tell me, please,” Myka asked, stretching her hand out to cover Helena’s on the table. Perhaps it was against custom, but Helena didn’t pull away.
“Charles thinks it is silly,” Helena rolled her eyes, “but I have been thinking… if I person could somehow match their refractive light index to their surroundings - perhaps even the very air - then they would essentially become… invisible.”
And there it was, Myka realized. The beginnings of literary genius born out in front of her. So this was where the idea for The Invisible Man came from. One of the most influential novels in the entire genre of science fiction, and Helena was worried the idea was silly.
“That’s brilliant.” And it was. Helena’s mind moved in ways that Myka found astounding, taking three logical steps before Myka had even made the first. It had been that way since they first met, and now Myka could see the beginnings of it. “What else have you been thinking about?”
It was a simple question, but with the door open now, Helena didn’t hold back. They talked of science, of literature, and opera. One topic fed into the next, such that Myka forgot herself completely in the conversation and simply sat back and enjoyed the way Helena brushed her hair back behind her shoulder, the way she leaned forward in interest when Myka spoke of Shakespeare, the way the morning light brought out the richness of her eyes and made them sparkle each time she laughed devilishly. Here was Helena, younger of course, less burdened by the weight of time and pain, but the same woman at her core: intelligent, funny, self-assured and gloriously alive.
At that moment, the twenty-first century, the Warehouse, the universe itself could have taken a flying leap for all Myka cared. She would have given anything to stay there, to watch Helena smile with such careless abandon it made her ache.
“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise this morning.” Myka knew it would come eventually, but the intrusion of Lady Ainesworth nevertheless drew an inward growl. “I see you two have been keeping each other’s company.”
“Lord Cross has been kind enough to indulge my whims of fantasy.”
“Nonsense, they were quite brilliant insights.” Myka argued, smiling broadly at Lady Ainesworth.
“Hmm, so it seems,” Lady Ainesworth smiled, her mind already calculating the probabilities and possibilities toward a match. “Lord Marbury was looking for you Viscount. He asked if you would come join him in the study for a late breakfast.”
“Yes, thank you for the message.” Myka stood up, and on impulse, took Helena’s hand, kissing it softly. “I look forward to our next conversation. On any subject you might desire to discuss.”
Helena smiled broadly. “As do I, my Lord.”
As Myka walked away, she heard Lady Ainesworth whisper, “Won’t your brother be so happy about this?”
Part Five