FF: Time After Time | Warehouse 13 | HG/Myka | NC-17 | Epilogue
Epilogue…
Leena just barely pressed back against the wall in time to avoid the nine-year old hellion racing through the hallway, followed in short order by the twenty-something hellion chasing right after her.
“Sorry Aunt Leena!” Christina called back over her shoulder as she dashed into the sun room.
“Sorry Leena!” Claudia shouted as she raced by, hot on Christina’s heels.
Leena shook her head with an indulgent smile and continued into the kitchen.
“Is my child behaving like a hooligan,” Helena asked as Leena started gathering plates and silverware to set the table.
“It’s not completely her fault,” Leena hedged. “Claudia is chasing her.”
As if on cue, Christina burst through the kitchen door, ducking around the island to hide a second before Claudia came screeching in after her. Leena and Helena shared a look. Claudia, in an attempt to “get her Mrs. Frederic on” had challenged Christina to an epic game of hide and seek, which at times morphed anywhere from freeze tag to full on WWE smack downs followed by tickle fights. That, Helena supposed, was what happened when the Warehouse chose a twenty-two year old as its latest guardian. Then again, considering the role the Warehouse had played in not only saving her but also her child, she supposed she could give it the benefit of the doubt.
“Where’d she go?”
Helena shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but Claudia caught Christina’s reflection in the oven and lunged for her. Giggling, Christina scrabbled past her mother and took off like a shot. Trailer, ever helpful, jumped in front of Claudia just long enough to give Christina an extra step lead. From the window sill, Dickens looked up from sunning himself, and then promptly went back to sleep. Between the ferret, the cat, the dog, the child, and most the time Pete and Claudia, the B&B was rarely silent. “Christina Wells! No running in the house!”
“Christina Bering-Wells,” the child corrected with a laugh, narrowly avoiding Claudia as she ran back out of the kitchen.
Helena rolled her eyes, muttering something about the undue influence of incorrigible adults.
Claudia had just about cornered Christina in the living room when the game was temporarily suspended by the front door opening.
“Uncle Pete!”
“Hey kiddo!” The Warehouse agent barely had time to brace himself before Christina threw herself at him in delight.
“How was your trip? Did you bag the artifact? Did you bring me a present?”
“Actually, we-”
Whatever Pete was about to say became inconsequential as Christina jumped out of his arms and launched herself at Myka. “Mom! You’re home!”
Catching her daughter up far more gracefully than Pete, Myka swung the girl around with a laugh and deposited her right back on her feet. “I am. Inside voice, please.”
The girl beamed. “Sorry. How was it? Did you get the bad guys? What was the artifact? Was it cool? Did you shoot anybody? Did you get pancakes?”
Myka laughed and answered in just as rapid procession. “The trip was fine. I didn’t shoot anyone. The artifact was a silly string gun if you can believe it. It was very cool, and no, we did not get pancakes.” By the time Myka had rattled off all of her answers, Helena had emerged from the kitchen, the smile on her face just as wide as the one on Christina’s.
“Sounds like an interesting case.”
“It was eventful,” Myka answered, taking the time to kiss Helena slowly as a proper hello. “Pete in the Clown Hall of Fame… you can imagine the rest.”
“Oh dear, you need a drink then. Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”
Myka raised a speculative eyebrow. “You cooked?”
“Heavens no! I ordered take out. Leena’s dishing it out onto plates as we speak.”
Christina tugged on Myka’s hand, pulling her toward the sun room. “Mommy called me ‘Christina Wells’ again.”
Myka tried not to smile at her daughter’s utterly put-out tone. “Cut her some slack, she’s not used to your new last name yet.”
“Right, because you two haven’t been in love for ages.” Christina rolled her eyes drolly, as only a nine year old who was too smart for her own good could accomplish.
“Go wash your hands,” Helena instructed, trying her best not to laugh. “Before I have Uncle Artie bring something over from the Warehouse that makes you crave brussel sprouts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
The girl looked positively aghast. “You wouldn’t.”
Helena pursed her lips. “Try me.” Myka simply nodded in agreement.
Seeing there was no winning when her mothers were a united front, Christina hurried off.
“I’m thinking of a word right now…”
“Precocious,” Myka volunteered.
“Impudent… cheeky… brash…”
“So, exactly like her mother then,” Myka teased, leaning in to give Helena another kiss before her wife could respond.
“You’ll pay for that later,” Helena threatened with a delicious smile.
“Promises, promises.”
Myka watched as Helena helped Leena gather up the last of the dishes and usher them into the sun room for dinner. Pete was catching Claudia up on his and Myka’s clown adventure. Steve was on the Farnsworth with Artie who was threatening assignments in Siberia if they started dinner without him. Trailer was barking happily as Christina snagged bits of rice out of the bowl to feed him under the table. Dickens was still sleeping on the window sill.
So much had changed in the last year, she thought, and yet some things hadn’t changed at all.
They’d had a small service for Mrs. Frederick on the bluffs that overlooked the Warehouse. Claudia, wanting to honor Mrs. Frederic had asked Myka if she should play a song during the service. Myka had simply responded with Mrs. Frederic’s own request: anything but Stairway to Heaven. Claudia had played Bach instead as Jane had eulogized the former Warehouse guardian and let her ashes drift into the sunset.
Helena was back to being a Warehouse agent, which had taken some convincing with the Regents, but far less than Myka had assumed, especially with both Jane and Claudia vouching for her. She and Myka traded off assignments so that one of them was always home with Christina, unless it was an end-of-the-world scenario, which thankfully had only happened once.
Claudia seemed to be hitting her stride as the Warehouse guardian, taking obscene pleasure in scaring the crap out of Artie with her sudden appearances. She and Christina had hit it off like gangbusters, and Myka knew Claudia saw Christina as the little sister she’d never had. Steve, restored to full Warehouse agent status as he had always been, was paired more often with Pete now and was learning to laugh at Pete’s jokes. He even found some of them funny.
It wasn’t perfect of course, as nothing ever was. Myka still had nightmares of explosions and fire consuming the Warehouse and everything she loved. Helena still woke in cold sweats, rushing from bed to confirm that Christina was alive and safe and asleep in her own bed. Eventually, Helena had admitted to Myka what the other woman had already begun to suspect after returning from her time travelling adventure.
“I knew it was Charles that was behind the robbery that day,” Helena had explained in pained whispers one night, Myka’s arms wrapped tightly around her in support. “It took years but I tracked down the man who knocked down the stairs. I remembered his face. It took some convincing but he finally admitted that he and another man had been hired to kidnap Christina and hold her for ransom, not steal jewelry and money as Charles had told me had happened. I showed him a picture of my brother and he confirmed that he was the man who had hired him. To his credit, Charles confessed everything when I confronted him. Said the guilt had been eating him alive. I could have killed him with my bare hands, but I… I just walked away. I went to the Regents and asked to be Bronzed instead. I couldn’t live in a world anymore where my brother had been responsible for my child’s death.”
It wasn’t perfect, no, but as Myka watched her friends, her family, gather around the dinner table, discussing their day, bantering and teasing, she knew that no matter what they faced, they would always, always face it together.
Helena walked by with the last of napkins and silverware for the table, stopping at the odd look on Myka’s face. “Something the matter, darling?”
Myka smiled. “Not in the least.”
“Then come on then, before the food gets cold,” Helena insisted, taking Myka’s hand to tug her along. “No dawdling.”
Finis.
Leena just barely pressed back against the wall in time to avoid the nine-year old hellion racing through the hallway, followed in short order by the twenty-something hellion chasing right after her.
“Sorry Aunt Leena!” Christina called back over her shoulder as she dashed into the sun room.
“Sorry Leena!” Claudia shouted as she raced by, hot on Christina’s heels.
Leena shook her head with an indulgent smile and continued into the kitchen.
“Is my child behaving like a hooligan,” Helena asked as Leena started gathering plates and silverware to set the table.
“It’s not completely her fault,” Leena hedged. “Claudia is chasing her.”
As if on cue, Christina burst through the kitchen door, ducking around the island to hide a second before Claudia came screeching in after her. Leena and Helena shared a look. Claudia, in an attempt to “get her Mrs. Frederic on” had challenged Christina to an epic game of hide and seek, which at times morphed anywhere from freeze tag to full on WWE smack downs followed by tickle fights. That, Helena supposed, was what happened when the Warehouse chose a twenty-two year old as its latest guardian. Then again, considering the role the Warehouse had played in not only saving her but also her child, she supposed she could give it the benefit of the doubt.
“Where’d she go?”
Helena shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but Claudia caught Christina’s reflection in the oven and lunged for her. Giggling, Christina scrabbled past her mother and took off like a shot. Trailer, ever helpful, jumped in front of Claudia just long enough to give Christina an extra step lead. From the window sill, Dickens looked up from sunning himself, and then promptly went back to sleep. Between the ferret, the cat, the dog, the child, and most the time Pete and Claudia, the B&B was rarely silent. “Christina Wells! No running in the house!”
“Christina Bering-Wells,” the child corrected with a laugh, narrowly avoiding Claudia as she ran back out of the kitchen.
Helena rolled her eyes, muttering something about the undue influence of incorrigible adults.
Claudia had just about cornered Christina in the living room when the game was temporarily suspended by the front door opening.
“Uncle Pete!”
“Hey kiddo!” The Warehouse agent barely had time to brace himself before Christina threw herself at him in delight.
“How was your trip? Did you bag the artifact? Did you bring me a present?”
“Actually, we-”
Whatever Pete was about to say became inconsequential as Christina jumped out of his arms and launched herself at Myka. “Mom! You’re home!”
Catching her daughter up far more gracefully than Pete, Myka swung the girl around with a laugh and deposited her right back on her feet. “I am. Inside voice, please.”
The girl beamed. “Sorry. How was it? Did you get the bad guys? What was the artifact? Was it cool? Did you shoot anybody? Did you get pancakes?”
Myka laughed and answered in just as rapid procession. “The trip was fine. I didn’t shoot anyone. The artifact was a silly string gun if you can believe it. It was very cool, and no, we did not get pancakes.” By the time Myka had rattled off all of her answers, Helena had emerged from the kitchen, the smile on her face just as wide as the one on Christina’s.
“Sounds like an interesting case.”
“It was eventful,” Myka answered, taking the time to kiss Helena slowly as a proper hello. “Pete in the Clown Hall of Fame… you can imagine the rest.”
“Oh dear, you need a drink then. Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”
Myka raised a speculative eyebrow. “You cooked?”
“Heavens no! I ordered take out. Leena’s dishing it out onto plates as we speak.”
Christina tugged on Myka’s hand, pulling her toward the sun room. “Mommy called me ‘Christina Wells’ again.”
Myka tried not to smile at her daughter’s utterly put-out tone. “Cut her some slack, she’s not used to your new last name yet.”
“Right, because you two haven’t been in love for ages.” Christina rolled her eyes drolly, as only a nine year old who was too smart for her own good could accomplish.
“Go wash your hands,” Helena instructed, trying her best not to laugh. “Before I have Uncle Artie bring something over from the Warehouse that makes you crave brussel sprouts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
The girl looked positively aghast. “You wouldn’t.”
Helena pursed her lips. “Try me.” Myka simply nodded in agreement.
Seeing there was no winning when her mothers were a united front, Christina hurried off.
“I’m thinking of a word right now…”
“Precocious,” Myka volunteered.
“Impudent… cheeky… brash…”
“So, exactly like her mother then,” Myka teased, leaning in to give Helena another kiss before her wife could respond.
“You’ll pay for that later,” Helena threatened with a delicious smile.
“Promises, promises.”
Myka watched as Helena helped Leena gather up the last of the dishes and usher them into the sun room for dinner. Pete was catching Claudia up on his and Myka’s clown adventure. Steve was on the Farnsworth with Artie who was threatening assignments in Siberia if they started dinner without him. Trailer was barking happily as Christina snagged bits of rice out of the bowl to feed him under the table. Dickens was still sleeping on the window sill.
So much had changed in the last year, she thought, and yet some things hadn’t changed at all.
They’d had a small service for Mrs. Frederick on the bluffs that overlooked the Warehouse. Claudia, wanting to honor Mrs. Frederic had asked Myka if she should play a song during the service. Myka had simply responded with Mrs. Frederic’s own request: anything but Stairway to Heaven. Claudia had played Bach instead as Jane had eulogized the former Warehouse guardian and let her ashes drift into the sunset.
Helena was back to being a Warehouse agent, which had taken some convincing with the Regents, but far less than Myka had assumed, especially with both Jane and Claudia vouching for her. She and Myka traded off assignments so that one of them was always home with Christina, unless it was an end-of-the-world scenario, which thankfully had only happened once.
Claudia seemed to be hitting her stride as the Warehouse guardian, taking obscene pleasure in scaring the crap out of Artie with her sudden appearances. She and Christina had hit it off like gangbusters, and Myka knew Claudia saw Christina as the little sister she’d never had. Steve, restored to full Warehouse agent status as he had always been, was paired more often with Pete now and was learning to laugh at Pete’s jokes. He even found some of them funny.
It wasn’t perfect of course, as nothing ever was. Myka still had nightmares of explosions and fire consuming the Warehouse and everything she loved. Helena still woke in cold sweats, rushing from bed to confirm that Christina was alive and safe and asleep in her own bed. Eventually, Helena had admitted to Myka what the other woman had already begun to suspect after returning from her time travelling adventure.
“I knew it was Charles that was behind the robbery that day,” Helena had explained in pained whispers one night, Myka’s arms wrapped tightly around her in support. “It took years but I tracked down the man who knocked down the stairs. I remembered his face. It took some convincing but he finally admitted that he and another man had been hired to kidnap Christina and hold her for ransom, not steal jewelry and money as Charles had told me had happened. I showed him a picture of my brother and he confirmed that he was the man who had hired him. To his credit, Charles confessed everything when I confronted him. Said the guilt had been eating him alive. I could have killed him with my bare hands, but I… I just walked away. I went to the Regents and asked to be Bronzed instead. I couldn’t live in a world anymore where my brother had been responsible for my child’s death.”
It wasn’t perfect, no, but as Myka watched her friends, her family, gather around the dinner table, discussing their day, bantering and teasing, she knew that no matter what they faced, they would always, always face it together.
Helena walked by with the last of napkins and silverware for the table, stopping at the odd look on Myka’s face. “Something the matter, darling?”
Myka smiled. “Not in the least.”
“Then come on then, before the food gets cold,” Helena insisted, taking Myka’s hand to tug her along. “No dawdling.”
Finis.