FF: Time After Time | Warehouse 13 | HG/Myka | NC-17 | Part 7
Myka didn’t sleep, but she did pack and plan. Her travel itinerary had her taking an overland route through France and then down to the Mediterranean before crossing into Egypt. Myka figured she’d give it a week - if the time machine hadn’t brought her back after a week in William Cross’ body she would consider it a permanent trip. And if she was still in his body after a week, the first thing she would do was turn around and come right back to England for Helena.
When she eventually made it downstairs for lunch there were a few pointed looks from Lord and Lady Ainesworth, and a shit-eating grin from Marbury, but no one ventured to actually say anything about Myka or Helena’s disappearance. Conversation was polite as they ate, Lord Ainesworth giving last minute travel tips, and Lady Ainesworth inquiring about the expected weather for the voyage. At last, the butler came into the dining room to announce Myka’s trunks had been loaded into the coach.
Lord and Lady Ainesworth thanked her profusely for honoring them with her presence; Myka thanked them profusely for their hospitality and promised to write as often as she could.
Marbury shook Myka’s hand firmly, about to pull her into a goodbye hug when Myka instead pulled him aside. “Would you mind travelling to Dover with me?”
“Of course not, lad. But why?”
“I have some… business I need your help with. I can explain it once we get there.”
Marbury gave Myka a curious look, nodded in assent.
Myka had escorted Helena to the coach, promising Lady Ainesworth that Marbury would see her safely back, when Charles wandered out of the house and down the front steps.
“You’re leaving.”
Myka helped Helena into the coach. “Yes, I have a boat to catch.”
Charles slashed a look at Helena who simply stared right back. “And did you… give my offer any further consideration?”
“I did,” Myka answered, her voice unreadable. “Lord Marbury will have my answer for you when he returns.”
“But-”
Charles had no time to argue, however, as Myka climbed into the coach and shut the door. With a flick of the reins the horses began their trot toward Dover. Charles stood there watching the coach drive off until it disappeared over a ridge and was no more.
~*~
Dover was a bustling port city, and Myka found the contrast between the country and the town striking as merchants hawked their wares from carts, children ran through the streets narrowly avoiding horses and carriages, and ships sounded in the distance. Myka sent the coach on to the dock to load her trunks and then walked the few blocks to the First Bank and Trust with Helena and Marbury.
Helena was shown to a ladies salon, something Myka inwardly rolled her eyes at, while she and Marbury were taken to an account manager. It took just under and hour to make all of the arrangements, but once done, Myka felt as if disparate pieces of the puzzle had finally clicked into place. Outside of the bank, Marbury checked his watch and then made an excuse about needing to find a good tobacco shop. He promised to meet Myka and Helena on the docks before the boat left and then with a wink headed off in the opposite direction whistling.
Myka checked her pocket watch to find they had little more than an hour before the boat left. Helena placed her hand over Myka’s closing the watch. “Don’t think about the time… let’s just enjoy ourselves while we can, shall we?”
They walked around the town, stopping in front of interesting store fronts, even ducking into a small book shop to find Myka something suitable to read on the journey. But it wasn’t until they finally turned for the docks that Myka spotted a small jewelry store. When she glanced in the window, her knees nearly gave out. There displayed in the shop window was Helena’s locket. Or rather, what Myka would come to know as Helena’s locket.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” Helena said, smiling down at the locket through the glass.
“It’s yours.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. I don’t need a locket.”
“Yes,” Myka breathed, “you do.”
“But…”
There was no arguing. Myka simply walked into the store and purchased the locket. She didn’t even let the clerk wrap it. They walked down to the docks, hand in hand, and there Myka placed the locket around Helena’s neck.
“Something to remember you by,” Helena asked.
“No… something for you to remember by.”
“I don’t even have a picture of you to place in it.”
“You don’t need one,” Myka said, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind Helena’s bonnet.
“But…” Her protestations were once more cut off as Myka leaned in and kissed her slowly, drawing them together. Above them the gulls cried out one to another, the waves lapped restlessly against the docks, but in that moment all Myka could hear was the steady beat of her pulse echoing Helena’s, their hearts beating as one.
The bells sounded from the ferry, signaling its passengers to board.
“You have to go.”
“I know… not yet…”
Myka kissed her again. “I have to go.”
“Not yet.”
Another kiss. Another. Another.
Behind them, someone discreetly coughed. Marbury smiled in pity. “You have to go, lad.”
Myka stepped back and took a deep breath. She fixed her eyes on Marbury. “You’ll take care of everything?”
Marbury patted his jacket pocket. “On my word.”
“Thank you.” She turned back to Helena, drinking in every last detail, memorizing every line of her. “‘Better by far you should forget and smile, than that you should remember and be sad.’”
The bells of the ship sounded one last time.
Myka reached up, sweeping Helena into a desperate kiss, and then before she could give into the weakness, she ran for the gangplank and sprinted onto the ship. Within minutes the boat pulled away, and at the stern, Myka stood her eyes affixed on Helena standing on the dock. She waved; Helena waved back.
She clutched the railing as a wave of nausea swept over her. The edges of her vision started to fade and blur. Her arms and legs tingled, the slow sensation of falling, dropping, crept up her spine as she kept her gaze locked on Helena. The time machine was calling her back.
Too soon she wanted to scream, but the air felt stripped from her lungs.
With one last primal surge of determination, she called to Helena, her I love you carried away on the wind. And then, she was simply gone.
Viscount William Cross blinked rapidly and took in his surroundings. The last thing he remembered was unpacking at the Ainesworth estate and now here he was, standing at the stern of a boat. He checked his pocket watch and noted it was just after three o’clock. He must’ve been on the right boat then, even if he had absolutely no recollection of getting there.
He looked back at the dock, saw the blur of a man and woman, and then turned around in search of his cabin.
~*~
Marbury had to give Miss Wells credit - she wasn’t like most women. After William’s departure she hadn’t shed another tear, although the quiet pain had been etched easily enough on her face. He understood then how his godson had come to be so quickly enchanted. A woman with that kind of strength and intelligence wasn’t easily forgotten.
As he’d been instructed, he waited until they were back at the Ainesworth estate before sitting Helena down, unfortunately with her brother in tow.
When Charles saw Marbury pull the sheaf of papers from his coat pocket he smiled victoriously. “The Viscount said you’d have his answer for me when you returned.”
“I do.”
“And?”
“The Viscount regrets to inform you that even with additional consideration, due in no small part to his affection for your sister, he must regretfully decline to invest in your stock portfolio.”
Charles blinked in disbelief. “But… what? Then what have you got in your hands?”
“Good of you to ask.” Marbury handed Helena the stack of papers. “Letters of credit, over which I have been named trustee in William’s absence.”
“I… I don’t understand,” Helena muttered, her eyes scanning the pages. It appeared that William had set up several letters of credit - all in her name - totaling several thousand pounds. “I don’t understand,” she said again.
“The Viscount wished to become a benefactor of the arts. Of sorts. He believes you have a talent that should be nurtured and allowed to blossom free from the constraints of, shall we say, other obligations.” His pointed look at Charles let them all know exactly what Williams intention had been. Property laws such as they were wouldn’t protect Helena from her brother if William had given her the money directly. By creating letters of credit drawn on accounts set up for her under the control of Marbury, William had ensured that Charles would never be able to touch a dime. She was as free and secure as he could make her.
Charles glared down at her. “Congratulations Helena, you finally managed to whore yourself out for a useful purpose.”
She didn’t have a chance to stand and defend herself before Marbury had backhanded Charles across the face and sent him sprawling onto the Oriental rug. “You forget yourself,” Marbury growled. “Do not let it happen again.”
Both Helena and Charles gaped in stunned silence.
Marbury turned back to Helena. “William had hoped that you might choose to pursue your studies and possibly your writing. He tells me you’re quiet talented and worth the investment. If you’re amenable, I thought I could accompany you back to London and we could discuss the matter further there.”
“That would be… thank you my lord. That would be lovely.”
He nodded once and left the room.
Helena stared down at the papers in her hands. A laugh bubbled up inside her. That cheeky bastard… She looked over to find Charles still on the floor, rubbing his jaw.
“Of for God’s sake Charles, get up. The man didn’t hit you that hard, and you had it coming.”
Charles opened his mouth to argue and thought better of it. Slowly, he stood back up.
“Come on, I’m sure Lady Ainesworth has supper prepared for us by now. No dawdling.”
And without a backward glance she left the room, Charles slowly following behind.
~*~
“What… the… hell… is… going… on?”
Pete and Claudia startled awake, both wearing identical ‘whowhathuh?’ expressions as they scanned the room for the obnoxious intruder that had disturbed their precious sleep.
What they found when their eyes finally cleared was one very pissed off Artie.
“It was Myka’s idea,” they both blurted out at the same time. Myka, who was still unconscious in the TM200, offered no defense.
Artie wanted to scream but he had a very good suspicion that if he started screaming now he might never stop. The madness of the last week already threatened to overwhelm him on a second by second basis. This, he feared, might be a bridge too far.
“One of you better start explaining,” he said, keeping a tight leash on his anger, “and do it quickly.”
Claudia and Pete shared another look.
“Well, Artie… Myka had this idea…”
Part Eight
When she eventually made it downstairs for lunch there were a few pointed looks from Lord and Lady Ainesworth, and a shit-eating grin from Marbury, but no one ventured to actually say anything about Myka or Helena’s disappearance. Conversation was polite as they ate, Lord Ainesworth giving last minute travel tips, and Lady Ainesworth inquiring about the expected weather for the voyage. At last, the butler came into the dining room to announce Myka’s trunks had been loaded into the coach.
Lord and Lady Ainesworth thanked her profusely for honoring them with her presence; Myka thanked them profusely for their hospitality and promised to write as often as she could.
Marbury shook Myka’s hand firmly, about to pull her into a goodbye hug when Myka instead pulled him aside. “Would you mind travelling to Dover with me?”
“Of course not, lad. But why?”
“I have some… business I need your help with. I can explain it once we get there.”
Marbury gave Myka a curious look, nodded in assent.
Myka had escorted Helena to the coach, promising Lady Ainesworth that Marbury would see her safely back, when Charles wandered out of the house and down the front steps.
“You’re leaving.”
Myka helped Helena into the coach. “Yes, I have a boat to catch.”
Charles slashed a look at Helena who simply stared right back. “And did you… give my offer any further consideration?”
“I did,” Myka answered, her voice unreadable. “Lord Marbury will have my answer for you when he returns.”
“But-”
Charles had no time to argue, however, as Myka climbed into the coach and shut the door. With a flick of the reins the horses began their trot toward Dover. Charles stood there watching the coach drive off until it disappeared over a ridge and was no more.
~*~
Dover was a bustling port city, and Myka found the contrast between the country and the town striking as merchants hawked their wares from carts, children ran through the streets narrowly avoiding horses and carriages, and ships sounded in the distance. Myka sent the coach on to the dock to load her trunks and then walked the few blocks to the First Bank and Trust with Helena and Marbury.
Helena was shown to a ladies salon, something Myka inwardly rolled her eyes at, while she and Marbury were taken to an account manager. It took just under and hour to make all of the arrangements, but once done, Myka felt as if disparate pieces of the puzzle had finally clicked into place. Outside of the bank, Marbury checked his watch and then made an excuse about needing to find a good tobacco shop. He promised to meet Myka and Helena on the docks before the boat left and then with a wink headed off in the opposite direction whistling.
Myka checked her pocket watch to find they had little more than an hour before the boat left. Helena placed her hand over Myka’s closing the watch. “Don’t think about the time… let’s just enjoy ourselves while we can, shall we?”
They walked around the town, stopping in front of interesting store fronts, even ducking into a small book shop to find Myka something suitable to read on the journey. But it wasn’t until they finally turned for the docks that Myka spotted a small jewelry store. When she glanced in the window, her knees nearly gave out. There displayed in the shop window was Helena’s locket. Or rather, what Myka would come to know as Helena’s locket.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” Helena said, smiling down at the locket through the glass.
“It’s yours.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. I don’t need a locket.”
“Yes,” Myka breathed, “you do.”
“But…”
There was no arguing. Myka simply walked into the store and purchased the locket. She didn’t even let the clerk wrap it. They walked down to the docks, hand in hand, and there Myka placed the locket around Helena’s neck.
“Something to remember you by,” Helena asked.
“No… something for you to remember by.”
“I don’t even have a picture of you to place in it.”
“You don’t need one,” Myka said, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind Helena’s bonnet.
“But…” Her protestations were once more cut off as Myka leaned in and kissed her slowly, drawing them together. Above them the gulls cried out one to another, the waves lapped restlessly against the docks, but in that moment all Myka could hear was the steady beat of her pulse echoing Helena’s, their hearts beating as one.
The bells sounded from the ferry, signaling its passengers to board.
“You have to go.”
“I know… not yet…”
Myka kissed her again. “I have to go.”
“Not yet.”
Another kiss. Another. Another.
Behind them, someone discreetly coughed. Marbury smiled in pity. “You have to go, lad.”
Myka stepped back and took a deep breath. She fixed her eyes on Marbury. “You’ll take care of everything?”
Marbury patted his jacket pocket. “On my word.”
“Thank you.” She turned back to Helena, drinking in every last detail, memorizing every line of her. “‘Better by far you should forget and smile, than that you should remember and be sad.’”
The bells of the ship sounded one last time.
Myka reached up, sweeping Helena into a desperate kiss, and then before she could give into the weakness, she ran for the gangplank and sprinted onto the ship. Within minutes the boat pulled away, and at the stern, Myka stood her eyes affixed on Helena standing on the dock. She waved; Helena waved back.
She clutched the railing as a wave of nausea swept over her. The edges of her vision started to fade and blur. Her arms and legs tingled, the slow sensation of falling, dropping, crept up her spine as she kept her gaze locked on Helena. The time machine was calling her back.
Too soon she wanted to scream, but the air felt stripped from her lungs.
With one last primal surge of determination, she called to Helena, her I love you carried away on the wind. And then, she was simply gone.
Viscount William Cross blinked rapidly and took in his surroundings. The last thing he remembered was unpacking at the Ainesworth estate and now here he was, standing at the stern of a boat. He checked his pocket watch and noted it was just after three o’clock. He must’ve been on the right boat then, even if he had absolutely no recollection of getting there.
He looked back at the dock, saw the blur of a man and woman, and then turned around in search of his cabin.
~*~
Marbury had to give Miss Wells credit - she wasn’t like most women. After William’s departure she hadn’t shed another tear, although the quiet pain had been etched easily enough on her face. He understood then how his godson had come to be so quickly enchanted. A woman with that kind of strength and intelligence wasn’t easily forgotten.
As he’d been instructed, he waited until they were back at the Ainesworth estate before sitting Helena down, unfortunately with her brother in tow.
When Charles saw Marbury pull the sheaf of papers from his coat pocket he smiled victoriously. “The Viscount said you’d have his answer for me when you returned.”
“I do.”
“And?”
“The Viscount regrets to inform you that even with additional consideration, due in no small part to his affection for your sister, he must regretfully decline to invest in your stock portfolio.”
Charles blinked in disbelief. “But… what? Then what have you got in your hands?”
“Good of you to ask.” Marbury handed Helena the stack of papers. “Letters of credit, over which I have been named trustee in William’s absence.”
“I… I don’t understand,” Helena muttered, her eyes scanning the pages. It appeared that William had set up several letters of credit - all in her name - totaling several thousand pounds. “I don’t understand,” she said again.
“The Viscount wished to become a benefactor of the arts. Of sorts. He believes you have a talent that should be nurtured and allowed to blossom free from the constraints of, shall we say, other obligations.” His pointed look at Charles let them all know exactly what Williams intention had been. Property laws such as they were wouldn’t protect Helena from her brother if William had given her the money directly. By creating letters of credit drawn on accounts set up for her under the control of Marbury, William had ensured that Charles would never be able to touch a dime. She was as free and secure as he could make her.
Charles glared down at her. “Congratulations Helena, you finally managed to whore yourself out for a useful purpose.”
She didn’t have a chance to stand and defend herself before Marbury had backhanded Charles across the face and sent him sprawling onto the Oriental rug. “You forget yourself,” Marbury growled. “Do not let it happen again.”
Both Helena and Charles gaped in stunned silence.
Marbury turned back to Helena. “William had hoped that you might choose to pursue your studies and possibly your writing. He tells me you’re quiet talented and worth the investment. If you’re amenable, I thought I could accompany you back to London and we could discuss the matter further there.”
“That would be… thank you my lord. That would be lovely.”
He nodded once and left the room.
Helena stared down at the papers in her hands. A laugh bubbled up inside her. That cheeky bastard… She looked over to find Charles still on the floor, rubbing his jaw.
“Of for God’s sake Charles, get up. The man didn’t hit you that hard, and you had it coming.”
Charles opened his mouth to argue and thought better of it. Slowly, he stood back up.
“Come on, I’m sure Lady Ainesworth has supper prepared for us by now. No dawdling.”
And without a backward glance she left the room, Charles slowly following behind.
~*~
“What… the… hell… is… going… on?”
Pete and Claudia startled awake, both wearing identical ‘whowhathuh?’ expressions as they scanned the room for the obnoxious intruder that had disturbed their precious sleep.
What they found when their eyes finally cleared was one very pissed off Artie.
“It was Myka’s idea,” they both blurted out at the same time. Myka, who was still unconscious in the TM200, offered no defense.
Artie wanted to scream but he had a very good suspicion that if he started screaming now he might never stop. The madness of the last week already threatened to overwhelm him on a second by second basis. This, he feared, might be a bridge too far.
“One of you better start explaining,” he said, keeping a tight leash on his anger, “and do it quickly.”
Claudia and Pete shared another look.
“Well, Artie… Myka had this idea…”
Part Eight