FF: Time After Time | Warehouse 13 | HG/Myka | NC-17 | Part 13
If you're lost you can look--and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you--I'll be waiting
Time after time
Helena waited until Christina was sound asleep before slowly shutting Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and setting it on the nightstand. As she had for the last week since returning to the B&B, Helena simply sat and watched as her daughter slept. The child was adapting remarkably well for someone who went to sleep in the nineteenth century and awoke in the twenty-first. Pete and Claudia had helped my introducing Christina to things like frozen yogurt, cartoons, and mp3 players. Myka, on the other hand, had cuddled Christina onto the couch in the sunroom and given her the first Harry Potter novel. The child hadn’t put the books down since. Finally, when Helena had reached the point where she’d convinced herself Christina wouldn’t disappear if she went to sleep, she stood and turned out the light.
Myka was waiting for her in the hallway when she pulled the door mostly closed behind her. While Helena kept Christina close, never letting her out of her sight, or arm’s length for that matter, Myka had done much the same with Helena. They’d gotten increasingly open with their touches. Not like they hadn’t been free with their touches before, but those had been small, subconscious gestures: the stroke of a hand, a gentle shoulder nudge. Now, it was almost an unconscious need for Myka to reach out and touch Helena’s cheek or firmly take her hand. And in turn, Helena, always free with her affection where Christina was concerned, didn’t lighten up as she couldn’t help but pull the child into a random five minute hug, or insist on brushing her hair three times before bed. They were all still adjusting to the miracle of reprieve, where those they loved most had been returned to them for a second chance, and neither of them were going to waste the opportunity.
“How far did you get tonight?”
“Harry and Ron just escaped the Forbidden Forest and those dreadful spiders.” She shivered involuntarily. “Always hated creepy, crawly things.”
Myka smiled indulgently, “But invisible men who murder and terrorize are okay?”
“That was a commentary on society, darling. Not my idea of Utopia.”
Laughing softly, Myka took Helena’s hand and drew her into the bedroom. Although Helena’s wrist was still bandaged and her face marred by bruises and cuts on the mend, she was healing surprisingly fast considering being transported around the world and basically dropped in the middle of Christchurch’s central park. Myka had tended to her every day for a week since their return to the States, helping Helena bathe and dress, always with the utmost care and professionalism.
Tonight, however, she couldn’t help but notice the bruises were fading, or the subtle hint of lavender on Helena’s neck. They’d kissed, shared the same bed, held each other for hours, but it was the first time since they’d come home that Myka felt that subtle longing, a low-banked fire that smoldered with anticipation. She made herself behave, however, as Helena began undoing the buttons on her shirt, revealing the bandages around her ribs. It was enough she was alive, Myka thought. The rest of their reunion could wait.
“Would you mind getting my robe out of the closet darling?”
“Sure.” Myka looked into the closet, then rummaged about, trying to find the soft blue robe Helena had appropriated as her own. “I don’t see it, are you sure it’s… in…” Words failed as Myka stuck her head around the closet door to find Helena in only her bra, panties, and bandages. “…here?”
Helena’s lips quirked into a delicious smile. “Oh, that’s right, I set it over here beside the bed. For later.”
Myka barely recognized it as her own voice squeaking, “Later?”
This time Helena’s lips spread into a full-blown grin. “Yes… later.” She held at her hand, pulling Myka close when she reached out and took it. Together, she placed their hands over the bandages on her ribs where the drop had bruised and fractured, then over the ones on her shoulder where the flames had touched a spilt second before they’d transported. She shivered as Myka’s fingers traced each wound, each cut, each bruise. “I’m a little damaged darling, but I’m still here. I’m still alive.”
“But you weren’t,” Myka whispered. “There were days when you were gone and I was alone.”
“And you saved me,” Helena smiled, tears brimming in her eyes. “You saved me.” Helena took Myka’s hand and placed it over her heart, feeling the steady rhythm beating beneath her finger tips. “Every time it’s really mattered, you’ve saved me.” She leaned in, brushing her lips softly over Myka’s. “Touch me now, my love. I won’t break.”
It was such a simple request, but Myka nearly froze with trepidation. She’d spent the last week caring for Helena, holding her and nursing her back to health, and through it all she’d shoved all the fear, all the grief, all the trauma down deep under the relief that the woman she loved was alive. She hadn’t allowed herself to confront the pain, and now, face to face with everything she had lost and gained back again, she could barely touch her lover for fear she might lose her all over again.
“Touch me, Myka,” Helena urged, letting her hands slide up and down Myka’s sides in encouragement. “I spent so long in that prison, trapped away. I want to feel you. I want you to feel me.”
Gently, Myka traced a single finger down Helena’s shoulder, following along the outline of her bra, moving with the material to trace over the swell of her breast, the dip in breastbone. Fascinated, she watched as goose bumps sprinkled along Helena’s skin in response to her touch. Unable to resist, Myka leaned down and kissed the inside of Helena’s breast, and then let her tongue trace the same path her finger had taken back up.
Helena sighed, breath rushing out of her in pleasure, and leaned into Myka’s touch. Lips kissed, teeth scraped, tongue licked as Myka made a slow feast of Helena’s breasts, eventually pushing the straps of her bra down, and then off completely, so that nothing barred her exploration. Helena plunged her fingers into Myka’s thick curls and held on, giving herself up completely to the younger woman’s ministrations. Myka backed them toward the bed, gently helping Helena lower herself down onto the crisp sheets. She laid there, transfixed, as Myka undressed piece by piece and let her clothes drop to the floor before reaching for Helena and sliding her panties off.
She reached for her, but Myka simply smirked and shook her head, pulling Helena to the edge of the bed and kneeling before her. The soft moan Helena released as Myka nibbled her way up the inside of her thigh quickly turned into a heated cry when Myka’s mouth found her wetness. “Please,” was all Helena could manage to whimper as Myka feasted on her, tongue circling, tasting, until Helena cried out in pleasure and collapsed back against the bed.
It was fast, as Myka had intended it to be, something to dull the sharp edge of need so that she could take her time exploring Helena’s body. Which she did at great length. Her fingers mapped every inch, every scar, new and old, rediscovering what she’d already laid claim to in this century and others. Front and back, she memorized every inch, leaving her marks on Helena’s shoulder, her hip, her neck. They would explain the visible ones later; for now, Myka only wanted to possess, to consume, to protect Helena from the world. From herself.
Helena rose up, pulling Myka’s legs around her waist, and sunk her teeth into Myka’s shoulder, marking her in return. For as Myka had watched Helena die, it had been Helena who had sacrificed herself, twice, to the universe with the knowledge she would never touch her lover again. Second chances were rare enough, but three times was unprecedented. Helena would never waste another moment of her life with Myka again.
Together they moved, finding rhythm centuries old that belonged to only them and always would. Fingers slid with delicious friction, bodies rocked, pushing each other higher, holding on, and then finally, letting go as the crest of pleasure broke over them both and Myka sobbed Helena’s name.
~*~
The house was silent except for the creaks and groans of the B&B’s foundations settling in for the night. In the moonlight, Helena held Myka, tracing unnamed patterns over her back. There had been no words between them, and no need. What was left to say when actions spoke so clearly?
Myka buried her face against Helena’s shoulder, surprised by the tears stinging her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but more came, the inevitable floodgate open now as she began to sob. Weeks of holding herself together, of locking her pain behind wall after wall, dissolved as Helena kissed her forehead. Nothing could hold it back now as Myka let go.
Safe in Helena’s arms she could confront the nightmares knowing they held no power over her now.
“Do you know when I first realized I loved you,” Helena asked at length, her voice little more than a murmur against Myka’s hair. The agent shook her head softly. “We were in the Warehouse… Artie had given me busywork cataloguing artifacts and you and Pete had returned from a quick bag and snag. You came down to put the artifact away, and at first I thought you were talking to someone… but then I realized, you were reciting poetry.” Helena paused, smiling at the memory. “And it struck me then, the last time I’d heard poetry recited just for the beauty of it was that afternoon with William… and I knew, as I’d known then with him, that I was in a dreadful spot… because I was completely in love with him… and I was completely in love with you.”
“Whatever the pain,” Helena continued softly, “whatever the costs… they’ve all been worth it. Because it all led me back to you.”
Myka buried her face deeper into the crook of Helena’s neck. She’d held back so much, for so long, she hadn’t been prepared for the deluge of emotions once they broke through her carefully constructed wall. But somehow Helena had been prepared, and had known just what to say. “You really do know me better than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Well, I’m very perceptive, darling.”
Myka laughed softly and took advantage of her position to lean up and nibble on Helena’s ear. “And what, pray tell, are you perceiving now?”
“I, um… my mind’s quite gone blank actually.”
“Looks like I know you pretty well, too, huh?”
“Indeed.”
Myka slid her lips over Helena’s neck, nibbling along the way, her nightmares eclipsed by Helena’s laugh.
~*~
The pocket watch, an artifact that had once belonged to Sanford Fleming, the father of world standard time, had finally been approved for use by the Regents. With Myka's use of the time machine, the esoteric arguments of whether or not they should chance potentially changing the past became moot. The past was changed; Helena and Steve were alive. The only question that remained was whether or not they could save the Warehouse.
Artie had insisted on going in alone, a decision everyone - including Helena - had fought vociferously, but in the end it was the only way the Regents would agree. They refused to chance any more lives than they absolutely had to. With little more than a stiff nod to them all, he walked into the Warehouse and shut the door behind him.
At first, there was nothing. They knew it would take a while for him to reach the center of the Warehouse, the safest place to use the watch. Pete tried to shoot the breeze, but there was little he could find to say that didn't revert to "so, really happy you’re not dead" to either Helena or Jinks, so he just kept silent. As the minutes ticked away, Claudia started to pace, then sort of twitch. She was halfway to knocking Jane out of the way and running after Artie when there was the tiniest tremble beneath their feet.
Just a little shake... And then another... And another...
And then the ground started to rumble, tossing them around like a child shaking a snow globe.
“Holy - "
Myka held onto Helena, cushioning her fall as they both hit the dirt and hung on until the earthquake stopped.
"Darling, I know I said you make the earth move, but I didn't mean so literally."
Myka laughed and gave Helena a gentle shove off her.
The shaking settled to a soft roll and then stopped completely.
“Artie!" There was no holding Claudia back this time she ran for the Warehouse, Steve right on her heels as the rest chased after them, each calling out warnings and cautions that Claudia was completely heedless of.
The air inside the Warehouse was thick with dust and the faint scent of sulfur. Claudia had run ahead, oblivious of the near blackout conditions inside the Warehouse versus her tiny flashlight, but it was Pete who managed to find Artie first.
With his feet.
“Oooff.” Myka watched as Pete went flying and then disappeared into the darkness.
“Pete? Pete are you okay?”
“Owwww… I think I found Artie…”
“Artie?”
A rather unpleasant grumble echoed from Pete’s general direction. “Owwww… how much do you weigh?”
“Hey! I’m an emotional eater.”
“I’m telling your mother.”
“Not cool, man. Not cool.”
Myka couldn’t help but laugh as she listened to the two men bicker and grumble and help each other up. In the distance she heard the soft whine of the Warehouse generators kicking on. The emergency lights flickered and then popped on.
Jaws dropped.
The shelves of the Warehouse were filled once more, the scorch marks gone. And although the smell of fire lingered, there wasn’t a trace of damage, a sprinkle of ash to be found. They barely had time to look around and gape in wonder before Steve’s voice echoed down the aisles in panic.
The group rushed to the center of the Warehouse where Steve stood lock-still, eyes wide, staring at Claudia. A storm surged above her, swirling, building, electricity crackling as it grew by the second.
“Claudia!” Artie started toward her, but Pete and Helena held him back.
“We can’t stop it,” Jane shouted. On her wrist, the Remati Shackle pulsed and gleamed, sparks of electricity flying out of it to join into the main storm. “The Warehouse has chosen her, Artie.”
“No!”
In a trance state, Claudia stood in the center of the Warehouse, arms lifted upward as the electrical storm started to cyclone downward over her, spinning her around and around, until she was eventually lifted up high into the air above them. There was a deafening crack of thunder, a brilliant flash of light, and then they were all laid out across the floor once more as a sonic boom knocked them down and the Warehouse was swept into darkness once more.
Slowly, one section of the main lights came on, and then another, and then another, until the Warehouse came to life, all sectors lit up and fully functioning.
Claudia lay on the cement floor, her clothes a torn and smoking from scorch marks. Artie and Steve rushed to her side, turning her over and prodding to find a pulse.
Weakly, she moaned. “Dude… being gay doesn’t mean you get to grope my goodies…”
“Claudia?”
“Ow, volume BFF. Volume.”
“Claudia Marie Donovan! Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” The outburst, so unlike Artie, took everyone aback.
“Artie she didn’t-”
Whatever Steve’s defense would have been was lost as Artie simply grabbed Claudia and hugged her tightly to him in the only spontaneous expression of affection anyone could ever remember him making. Claudia hugged him right back. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “It was my choice.”
Pete, looking appropriately freaked out and confused, spun around to take in the newly restored Warehouse. “Does someone want to explain to me what the heck just happened?”
“The pocket watch,” Helena offered, her eyes on Claudia for confirmation. The younger woman nodded, unable to do much else since Artie hadn’t yet let go. “I suspect it functions much like a computer recovery point. Able to restore the Warehouse to its last back up point.”
“Essentially,” Claudia agreed, finally standing up with Artie and Steve’s help.
“But then… Mrs. Frederic?”
Claudia stood up, stretching her neck and popping her knuckles. “The Warehouse could restore its own physical form,” Claudia answered, “but it couldn’t repair the damage to Mrs. Frederic. So I… kinda volunteered.”
“You’re the new guardian,” Pete asked in disbelief.
“It asked me,” Claudia answered quickly with a shrug.
“The Warehouse asked you to be its guardian,” Artie annunciated slowly, as if each word stretched the limits of his imagination.
“It was super sweet about it, actually,” Claudia said, smiling shyly. “And kinda sounded like James Earl Jones.”
“When the Warehouse decides it likes you,” Helena smiled, gracefully inclining her head to Claudia, “it doesn’t give up very easily. Myka and I are proof enough of that. Although I’d venture to say the Warehouse has chosen a new favorite.”
The group all turned to stare at Claudia. She gamely waved back at them. “The first one of you that makes a Matrix reference is getting slapped.”
Helena looked at Myka, a curious gleam in her eyes. “What’s this Matrix? It sounds like something I’d like to learn more about.”
Myka just laughed and shook her head. She grabbed Helena’s hand and squeezed. “I’ll explain it on the way home.”
Epilogue
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you--I'll be waiting
Time after time
Helena waited until Christina was sound asleep before slowly shutting Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and setting it on the nightstand. As she had for the last week since returning to the B&B, Helena simply sat and watched as her daughter slept. The child was adapting remarkably well for someone who went to sleep in the nineteenth century and awoke in the twenty-first. Pete and Claudia had helped my introducing Christina to things like frozen yogurt, cartoons, and mp3 players. Myka, on the other hand, had cuddled Christina onto the couch in the sunroom and given her the first Harry Potter novel. The child hadn’t put the books down since. Finally, when Helena had reached the point where she’d convinced herself Christina wouldn’t disappear if she went to sleep, she stood and turned out the light.
Myka was waiting for her in the hallway when she pulled the door mostly closed behind her. While Helena kept Christina close, never letting her out of her sight, or arm’s length for that matter, Myka had done much the same with Helena. They’d gotten increasingly open with their touches. Not like they hadn’t been free with their touches before, but those had been small, subconscious gestures: the stroke of a hand, a gentle shoulder nudge. Now, it was almost an unconscious need for Myka to reach out and touch Helena’s cheek or firmly take her hand. And in turn, Helena, always free with her affection where Christina was concerned, didn’t lighten up as she couldn’t help but pull the child into a random five minute hug, or insist on brushing her hair three times before bed. They were all still adjusting to the miracle of reprieve, where those they loved most had been returned to them for a second chance, and neither of them were going to waste the opportunity.
“How far did you get tonight?”
“Harry and Ron just escaped the Forbidden Forest and those dreadful spiders.” She shivered involuntarily. “Always hated creepy, crawly things.”
Myka smiled indulgently, “But invisible men who murder and terrorize are okay?”
“That was a commentary on society, darling. Not my idea of Utopia.”
Laughing softly, Myka took Helena’s hand and drew her into the bedroom. Although Helena’s wrist was still bandaged and her face marred by bruises and cuts on the mend, she was healing surprisingly fast considering being transported around the world and basically dropped in the middle of Christchurch’s central park. Myka had tended to her every day for a week since their return to the States, helping Helena bathe and dress, always with the utmost care and professionalism.
Tonight, however, she couldn’t help but notice the bruises were fading, or the subtle hint of lavender on Helena’s neck. They’d kissed, shared the same bed, held each other for hours, but it was the first time since they’d come home that Myka felt that subtle longing, a low-banked fire that smoldered with anticipation. She made herself behave, however, as Helena began undoing the buttons on her shirt, revealing the bandages around her ribs. It was enough she was alive, Myka thought. The rest of their reunion could wait.
“Would you mind getting my robe out of the closet darling?”
“Sure.” Myka looked into the closet, then rummaged about, trying to find the soft blue robe Helena had appropriated as her own. “I don’t see it, are you sure it’s… in…” Words failed as Myka stuck her head around the closet door to find Helena in only her bra, panties, and bandages. “…here?”
Helena’s lips quirked into a delicious smile. “Oh, that’s right, I set it over here beside the bed. For later.”
Myka barely recognized it as her own voice squeaking, “Later?”
This time Helena’s lips spread into a full-blown grin. “Yes… later.” She held at her hand, pulling Myka close when she reached out and took it. Together, she placed their hands over the bandages on her ribs where the drop had bruised and fractured, then over the ones on her shoulder where the flames had touched a spilt second before they’d transported. She shivered as Myka’s fingers traced each wound, each cut, each bruise. “I’m a little damaged darling, but I’m still here. I’m still alive.”
“But you weren’t,” Myka whispered. “There were days when you were gone and I was alone.”
“And you saved me,” Helena smiled, tears brimming in her eyes. “You saved me.” Helena took Myka’s hand and placed it over her heart, feeling the steady rhythm beating beneath her finger tips. “Every time it’s really mattered, you’ve saved me.” She leaned in, brushing her lips softly over Myka’s. “Touch me now, my love. I won’t break.”
It was such a simple request, but Myka nearly froze with trepidation. She’d spent the last week caring for Helena, holding her and nursing her back to health, and through it all she’d shoved all the fear, all the grief, all the trauma down deep under the relief that the woman she loved was alive. She hadn’t allowed herself to confront the pain, and now, face to face with everything she had lost and gained back again, she could barely touch her lover for fear she might lose her all over again.
“Touch me, Myka,” Helena urged, letting her hands slide up and down Myka’s sides in encouragement. “I spent so long in that prison, trapped away. I want to feel you. I want you to feel me.”
Gently, Myka traced a single finger down Helena’s shoulder, following along the outline of her bra, moving with the material to trace over the swell of her breast, the dip in breastbone. Fascinated, she watched as goose bumps sprinkled along Helena’s skin in response to her touch. Unable to resist, Myka leaned down and kissed the inside of Helena’s breast, and then let her tongue trace the same path her finger had taken back up.
Helena sighed, breath rushing out of her in pleasure, and leaned into Myka’s touch. Lips kissed, teeth scraped, tongue licked as Myka made a slow feast of Helena’s breasts, eventually pushing the straps of her bra down, and then off completely, so that nothing barred her exploration. Helena plunged her fingers into Myka’s thick curls and held on, giving herself up completely to the younger woman’s ministrations. Myka backed them toward the bed, gently helping Helena lower herself down onto the crisp sheets. She laid there, transfixed, as Myka undressed piece by piece and let her clothes drop to the floor before reaching for Helena and sliding her panties off.
She reached for her, but Myka simply smirked and shook her head, pulling Helena to the edge of the bed and kneeling before her. The soft moan Helena released as Myka nibbled her way up the inside of her thigh quickly turned into a heated cry when Myka’s mouth found her wetness. “Please,” was all Helena could manage to whimper as Myka feasted on her, tongue circling, tasting, until Helena cried out in pleasure and collapsed back against the bed.
It was fast, as Myka had intended it to be, something to dull the sharp edge of need so that she could take her time exploring Helena’s body. Which she did at great length. Her fingers mapped every inch, every scar, new and old, rediscovering what she’d already laid claim to in this century and others. Front and back, she memorized every inch, leaving her marks on Helena’s shoulder, her hip, her neck. They would explain the visible ones later; for now, Myka only wanted to possess, to consume, to protect Helena from the world. From herself.
Helena rose up, pulling Myka’s legs around her waist, and sunk her teeth into Myka’s shoulder, marking her in return. For as Myka had watched Helena die, it had been Helena who had sacrificed herself, twice, to the universe with the knowledge she would never touch her lover again. Second chances were rare enough, but three times was unprecedented. Helena would never waste another moment of her life with Myka again.
Together they moved, finding rhythm centuries old that belonged to only them and always would. Fingers slid with delicious friction, bodies rocked, pushing each other higher, holding on, and then finally, letting go as the crest of pleasure broke over them both and Myka sobbed Helena’s name.
~*~
The house was silent except for the creaks and groans of the B&B’s foundations settling in for the night. In the moonlight, Helena held Myka, tracing unnamed patterns over her back. There had been no words between them, and no need. What was left to say when actions spoke so clearly?
Myka buried her face against Helena’s shoulder, surprised by the tears stinging her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but more came, the inevitable floodgate open now as she began to sob. Weeks of holding herself together, of locking her pain behind wall after wall, dissolved as Helena kissed her forehead. Nothing could hold it back now as Myka let go.
Safe in Helena’s arms she could confront the nightmares knowing they held no power over her now.
“Do you know when I first realized I loved you,” Helena asked at length, her voice little more than a murmur against Myka’s hair. The agent shook her head softly. “We were in the Warehouse… Artie had given me busywork cataloguing artifacts and you and Pete had returned from a quick bag and snag. You came down to put the artifact away, and at first I thought you were talking to someone… but then I realized, you were reciting poetry.” Helena paused, smiling at the memory. “And it struck me then, the last time I’d heard poetry recited just for the beauty of it was that afternoon with William… and I knew, as I’d known then with him, that I was in a dreadful spot… because I was completely in love with him… and I was completely in love with you.”
“Whatever the pain,” Helena continued softly, “whatever the costs… they’ve all been worth it. Because it all led me back to you.”
Myka buried her face deeper into the crook of Helena’s neck. She’d held back so much, for so long, she hadn’t been prepared for the deluge of emotions once they broke through her carefully constructed wall. But somehow Helena had been prepared, and had known just what to say. “You really do know me better than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Well, I’m very perceptive, darling.”
Myka laughed softly and took advantage of her position to lean up and nibble on Helena’s ear. “And what, pray tell, are you perceiving now?”
“I, um… my mind’s quite gone blank actually.”
“Looks like I know you pretty well, too, huh?”
“Indeed.”
Myka slid her lips over Helena’s neck, nibbling along the way, her nightmares eclipsed by Helena’s laugh.
~*~
The pocket watch, an artifact that had once belonged to Sanford Fleming, the father of world standard time, had finally been approved for use by the Regents. With Myka's use of the time machine, the esoteric arguments of whether or not they should chance potentially changing the past became moot. The past was changed; Helena and Steve were alive. The only question that remained was whether or not they could save the Warehouse.
Artie had insisted on going in alone, a decision everyone - including Helena - had fought vociferously, but in the end it was the only way the Regents would agree. They refused to chance any more lives than they absolutely had to. With little more than a stiff nod to them all, he walked into the Warehouse and shut the door behind him.
At first, there was nothing. They knew it would take a while for him to reach the center of the Warehouse, the safest place to use the watch. Pete tried to shoot the breeze, but there was little he could find to say that didn't revert to "so, really happy you’re not dead" to either Helena or Jinks, so he just kept silent. As the minutes ticked away, Claudia started to pace, then sort of twitch. She was halfway to knocking Jane out of the way and running after Artie when there was the tiniest tremble beneath their feet.
Just a little shake... And then another... And another...
And then the ground started to rumble, tossing them around like a child shaking a snow globe.
“Holy - "
Myka held onto Helena, cushioning her fall as they both hit the dirt and hung on until the earthquake stopped.
"Darling, I know I said you make the earth move, but I didn't mean so literally."
Myka laughed and gave Helena a gentle shove off her.
The shaking settled to a soft roll and then stopped completely.
“Artie!" There was no holding Claudia back this time she ran for the Warehouse, Steve right on her heels as the rest chased after them, each calling out warnings and cautions that Claudia was completely heedless of.
The air inside the Warehouse was thick with dust and the faint scent of sulfur. Claudia had run ahead, oblivious of the near blackout conditions inside the Warehouse versus her tiny flashlight, but it was Pete who managed to find Artie first.
With his feet.
“Oooff.” Myka watched as Pete went flying and then disappeared into the darkness.
“Pete? Pete are you okay?”
“Owwww… I think I found Artie…”
“Artie?”
A rather unpleasant grumble echoed from Pete’s general direction. “Owwww… how much do you weigh?”
“Hey! I’m an emotional eater.”
“I’m telling your mother.”
“Not cool, man. Not cool.”
Myka couldn’t help but laugh as she listened to the two men bicker and grumble and help each other up. In the distance she heard the soft whine of the Warehouse generators kicking on. The emergency lights flickered and then popped on.
Jaws dropped.
The shelves of the Warehouse were filled once more, the scorch marks gone. And although the smell of fire lingered, there wasn’t a trace of damage, a sprinkle of ash to be found. They barely had time to look around and gape in wonder before Steve’s voice echoed down the aisles in panic.
The group rushed to the center of the Warehouse where Steve stood lock-still, eyes wide, staring at Claudia. A storm surged above her, swirling, building, electricity crackling as it grew by the second.
“Claudia!” Artie started toward her, but Pete and Helena held him back.
“We can’t stop it,” Jane shouted. On her wrist, the Remati Shackle pulsed and gleamed, sparks of electricity flying out of it to join into the main storm. “The Warehouse has chosen her, Artie.”
“No!”
In a trance state, Claudia stood in the center of the Warehouse, arms lifted upward as the electrical storm started to cyclone downward over her, spinning her around and around, until she was eventually lifted up high into the air above them. There was a deafening crack of thunder, a brilliant flash of light, and then they were all laid out across the floor once more as a sonic boom knocked them down and the Warehouse was swept into darkness once more.
Slowly, one section of the main lights came on, and then another, and then another, until the Warehouse came to life, all sectors lit up and fully functioning.
Claudia lay on the cement floor, her clothes a torn and smoking from scorch marks. Artie and Steve rushed to her side, turning her over and prodding to find a pulse.
Weakly, she moaned. “Dude… being gay doesn’t mean you get to grope my goodies…”
“Claudia?”
“Ow, volume BFF. Volume.”
“Claudia Marie Donovan! Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” The outburst, so unlike Artie, took everyone aback.
“Artie she didn’t-”
Whatever Steve’s defense would have been was lost as Artie simply grabbed Claudia and hugged her tightly to him in the only spontaneous expression of affection anyone could ever remember him making. Claudia hugged him right back. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “It was my choice.”
Pete, looking appropriately freaked out and confused, spun around to take in the newly restored Warehouse. “Does someone want to explain to me what the heck just happened?”
“The pocket watch,” Helena offered, her eyes on Claudia for confirmation. The younger woman nodded, unable to do much else since Artie hadn’t yet let go. “I suspect it functions much like a computer recovery point. Able to restore the Warehouse to its last back up point.”
“Essentially,” Claudia agreed, finally standing up with Artie and Steve’s help.
“But then… Mrs. Frederic?”
Claudia stood up, stretching her neck and popping her knuckles. “The Warehouse could restore its own physical form,” Claudia answered, “but it couldn’t repair the damage to Mrs. Frederic. So I… kinda volunteered.”
“You’re the new guardian,” Pete asked in disbelief.
“It asked me,” Claudia answered quickly with a shrug.
“The Warehouse asked you to be its guardian,” Artie annunciated slowly, as if each word stretched the limits of his imagination.
“It was super sweet about it, actually,” Claudia said, smiling shyly. “And kinda sounded like James Earl Jones.”
“When the Warehouse decides it likes you,” Helena smiled, gracefully inclining her head to Claudia, “it doesn’t give up very easily. Myka and I are proof enough of that. Although I’d venture to say the Warehouse has chosen a new favorite.”
The group all turned to stare at Claudia. She gamely waved back at them. “The first one of you that makes a Matrix reference is getting slapped.”
Helena looked at Myka, a curious gleam in her eyes. “What’s this Matrix? It sounds like something I’d like to learn more about.”
Myka just laughed and shook her head. She grabbed Helena’s hand and squeezed. “I’ll explain it on the way home.”
Epilogue