Break the Rules - the Implications of Time Travel
Title: Break the Rules - the Implications of Time Travel
Author: Athena
Pairing: HG Wells & Myka Bering
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: All seasons up until episode 407.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these lovely ladies. Not writing for profit, just for entertainment. I thought our lovely Warehouse Agents needed a little fun time.
Summary: HG Wells is asked to research discrepancies that have surfaced since the incident with Walter Sykes. Working directly under Mrs. Frederic, HG Wells starts to investigate the chain of events in order to develop a theory.
A/N: If you, just like me, have wondered ‘where the hell HG Wells has been’, perhaps this little story will shed some light on things :)
Break the Rules - the Implications of Time Travel
“It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things.”
Leonardo da Vinci
Chapter 1 - Agent Wells’ First Mission
“Ms. Wells, a word?”
HG’s head snapped up at the sound of the Warehouse caretaker. “Certainly, Mrs. Frederic.”
She silently followed the woman until they reached the archives. Mrs. Fredric closed the door behind them and then faced HG.
“I need your help with an urgent matter.”
“Of course,” HG said, her eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Something is not right,” Mrs. Frederic continued. HG nodded. She had felt it too. “See this?” Mrs. Frederic pointed to the silver streak in her hair.
“Dear God!”
“Exactly.”
“I believe that it is possible to take care of that these days,” HG said with a tiny smirk.
“I am aware of that, Agent Wells,” Mrs. Frederic said and made a face. “The point is, Agent Wells, I have never had a gray hair before.”
“So this is what you need my assistance with? Coloring your hair?”
“Of course not!” Mrs. Frederic’s eyes narrowed. “Agent Wells, if I was looking for amusing solutions, I would’ve consulted Agent Lattimer.”
“Naturally.” HG rolled her eyes.
“Something happened to the Warehouse that caused this.”
HG instantly sobered. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure, but I think that Artie is involved somehow.”
HG nodded. She had found Artie’s behavior peculiar to say the least. “He’s hiding something.”
“You and I are both involved, Agent Wells, and perhaps the others are too.”
“The bomb,” HG said softly.
“Exactly. So, will you accept this as your first official assignment as a full Agent, Ms. Wells?”
“Absolutely!”
“Let’s go then.”
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“I cannot just leave,” HG said, almost in panic. Mrs. Frederic arched an eyebrow. “I must speak with Myka first.”
“Make it brief.”
HG nodded, suppressing an urge to salute the Warehouse caretaker. Before she would do or say something that would yet again make her an outcast, HG Wells hurried towards where she knew Myka was working.
~ O ~
“Hello, darling.”
“Helena,” Myka turned and smiled at her.
HG stepped closer and rested her hands on Myka’s hips. She brushed her lips against Myka’s in a soft kiss.
“God, I could really get used to this,” she whispered.
“What’s the matter with you?” Myka said and laughed.
“I’m going on a mission,” HG said softly.
“Oh? Did we get a ping?”
HG shook her head. “Mrs. Frederic has asked my assistance on a project. I am leaving with her.”
“Helena!” Myka stared wild-eyed at her. “Where? What’s going on? Why is she taking you away?”
HG cupped Myka’s face and silenced her with a firm kiss. “Hush, darling. No one is taking me away. She needs someone to do some research for her. It is of utmost importance and quite urgent I’m afraid. She asked me to not divulge further details until we know more.”
Myka nodded. “How long will you be gone?”
“I’m not certain actually,” HG said and frowned. She stroked Myka’s cheek. “Try to be happy for me. It’s my first official mission alone.”
“Of course I’m happy for you,” Myka said and smiled. “It’s just that I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” HG held up a brand new iPhone. “Artie gave me this earlier, so perhaps we can talk while I’m gone?”
Myka smiled and nodded. The two exchanged numbers and then started to head back together. Mrs. Frederic was waiting in Artie’s office.
“What took you so long, Agent Wells? I thought you might have changed your mind.”
HG chuckled and took Myka’s hand. “I did not want Myka to think that I had abandoned her right after having stated my intention to formally court her.”
Mrs. Frederic smiled and tilted her head. “How sweet. Well, Agent Bering is a big girl. I’m sure she will be able to handle a few weeks without you.”
“Weeks?” Myka squealed, her eyes wide.
“Is that a problem, Agent Bering? I’m sure the Regents will reconsider, once they know that you object to their request for Agent Wells’ expertise.”
Myka blushed and chewed on her lip. “No, of course not. It’s Helena’s decision anyway.”
“It will be all right,” HG assured her. The two lost themselves in each other’s eyes for a moment as they said a silent goodbye.
“Agent Wells!”
“Oh, yes... coming!” HG smiled at Myka over her shoulder as she hurried after the Warehouse caretaker.
~ O ~
Warehouse Regent’s UK Stronghold, undisclosed location, England, 2012
HG Wells jotted down another observation in her journal before putting her pen down. She leaned back, playing with her favorite writing tool as she lost herself in thought. There was something she had missed. Something very important. She tried to think back, but it was all such a blur. Getting up she walked over to the window. The landscape outside was lush and green, a gentle breeze playing in the trees. The sounds were all familiar and it soothed her.
After the months spent with her mind separated from her body due to the Janus coin, HG Wells treasured her new surroundings more than she ever had before. She had been so sure that returning to England would help her solve the mystery; that the right clues were here. Now she was starting to harbor doubt. A gentle knock on the door startled her, and she turned.
“Come.”
“Agent Wells, your tea.”
The young man entered and put down the tray. He looked up at her, waiting for her to say something.
“Thank you, Mr. Adams. That will be all.”
“Certainly, Agent Wells.”
He hurried back the same way he came, closing the door behind him. HG let out a heavy sigh. She really needed to try and be a bit nicer to him. Pouring a little milk into her cup she reached for the teapot and smiled as the dark brew mixed with the milk. She sipped it and hummed in pleasure at the lovely mixture of bitterness and sweetness. England really was the only place to get a prefect cup of tea.
‘… the perfect cup of tea, that’s a puzzle.’
She stopped short, her cup rattling a little on the saucer.
‘When the rules do not agree with one, it is sometimes necessary to change them.’
“Caturanga,” she whispered. “My dear, dear friend. How I wish you were here. I could for certain use your brilliant mind right about now.”
‘What do you smell, Miss Wells?’
HG took a deep breath and her eyes fluttered shut. What did she smell? Books. Leather. Ginger biscuits. The apple shampoo she had used that morning. Books. Books! Her eyes flew open and she put the cup down, bolting for the door.
~ O ~
HG Wells rested her hands on top of the trunk for a long moment. Inside lay parts of her past, the belongings of her friend and teacher, Caturanga. HG chuckled. She had constantly argued with him and challenged him, yet he would only smile and pose another question. No matter how much she tried to break him, it was always she who left the room with her hands tossed in the air in frustration, his teasing chuckle following in her wake.
“I wish I had been an easier student, old friend,” she whispered and ran her hands over the worn leather and dented wood.
With a look of determination on her face, HG pushed the lid open. A heady scent of old documents and leather engulfed her for a moment and she inhaled deeply. Her eyes misted a little as she detected a faint scent that she recognized as Caturanga.
Reaching inside she gently retrieved Caturanga’s chess set which rested on top of the remaining contents. Her fingers stroked the polished wood as she set it aside on the table next to her. Looking inside the trunk again, HG grabbed the first object her eyes fell on, one of Caturanga’s notebooks. She recognized his handwriting immediately. Leaning back on the sofa she lost herself in the words of her teacher.
~ O ~
Warehouse 12, London, December 5, 1889
Today I challenged my new apprentice, Miss Helena Wells, to a game of chess. I admit I had not very high hopes for an interesting game. As the case often is with Miss Wells, she surprised me in the most pleasant way.
HG chuckled and put the book down. She remembered that day. She had been stuck in her research and she was getting frustrated. Caturanga had only smiled as he listened to her ranting, and finally, when she fell silent, asked her to join him for a game of chess. In the end it had proved to be the distraction she needed in order to clear her mind. He had won, naturally, and she had stomped off again. Once returning to her books, she was still reviewing all the moves from the game in her head and that was when the answer finally came to her. Jumping to her feet she had left in search of the documents that would later prove to hold the key.
“Please for once, tell me,” she whispered in the empty room. “Guide me, old friend. I need your help this time. I cannot do it on my own.” HG rested her palm on top of the notebook for a moment. “Our Warehouse is gone now, and so are all the others. All the knowledge, all the wisdom - gone.”
She closed the book and got up. This was frustrating. If only her Time Machine still worked, she mused. HG Wells stopped in the middle of the room as if the bronzer had once again caught her in its grasp.
“Dear God, Artie, what did you do?” she gasped.
Glancing at Caturanga’s old trunk she immediately knew that the answer did not lie there. However, she knew exactly where to find it.
~ O ~
Warehouse 12, London, November 1899
Christina had been gone for four months, and HG Wells was starting to lose hope. Grabbing yet another couple of old books from the archive; she continued her mission. There had to be a way. She worked in a place where magic happened. It was obvious to her that a solution existed; she just had to find it.
“Miss Wells?”
HG closed her eyes for a second before turning around in her seat. “I am so sorry, old friend. I lost track of time.”
“You have submerged yourself in books, Miss Wells,” he said and smiled sadly. “In the past you were always so eager to investigate a Curiosity when it emerged. As of late, it appears that your interest in the Warehouse Archives has completely consumed you. What are you seeking, Helena? Perhaps I can help you?”
Stunned at the offer, since he had never offered before, she just stared at him. Eventually she just shook her head.
“I fear that this is a journey I have to make on my own,” she said and met his kind eyes. “I do not yet know what it is that I seek, only that I will know once I find it.”
“Be careful, Helena,” he said and smiled sadly at her. “The Warehouse has a way of drawing unbalanced souls in. I wish you would take my advice to return home for some time. You need time to grieve, to find a new light. If you don’t, I fear that you will eventually be driven to madness.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “I know. My dear, dear Caturanga. You are the kindest man I know, and I trust you over all others. Watch me, and confront me before it is too late. Even if you have to take drastic measures to do so, I beg you to. I will not go willingly, of that I am certain.”
“You have my word.” He smiled and bowed his head. “And with that I leave you. I think I finally managed to brew the perfect cup of tea, and I do not wish for it to spoil.”
She chuckled and held his gaze for a moment. He nodded once and then turned and left.
~ O ~
She had almost been surprised that the book was still there. Almost. She had, after all, secured it away more than a century ago. The contents were dangerous, especially for her. HG Wells gently opened the old journal, rubbing her fingers against the soft leather. Her familiar handwriting greeted her on the first page ‘The Theory of Time Travel, by HG Wells.’
The notes compiled within had been gathered during her dark years, those terrible, gut wrenching years after she lost Christina. In the beginning she had been full of hope, but as time wore on, hope had turned to determination, and then eventually an insane obsession. There had to be a way, there had to be a way… Those words had been her mantra in her pursuit of an artifact that could bring back her daughter.
Over the years she had documented, in excruciating detail, every artifact she had discovered to have any time travel potential or a history of affecting time. In the end, none of them had been able to do what she needed them to. Her frustration and crazed determination had been the force behind the creation of her Time Machine. HG Wells sighed and shook her head. It had still not been able to bring Christina back. All it had accomplished was allowing her to relive her daughter’s murder over and over again.
Pushing the thoughts of Christina out of her head, HG started reading. As always, it was a fast process. Charles had teased her when they were teenagers that she just looked at the pages, without actually reading the contents. In truth, HG Wells had early on developed a method for absorbing written information faster than the average person was able to. This skill had proven itself very useful over the years.
Reading about artifact after artifact she slowed down at the sight of an item. She ran her fingers over the drawing she had made in the top right corner. The watch looked eerily familiar. She read on and turned the page.
“Dear God,” she gasped. “This is it! Artie, what terrible event must have taken place for you to do this?”
HG leaned back and tapped her fingers against her lips. She knew Artie Nielsen. He was not prone to do things just for his own gain. No this was done out of concern for something much bigger. HG rubbed her chest, right above her heart. It was a recent discomfort that seemed to blossom at times of increased stress.
‘I am convinced that HG Wells would behave quite heroically…’
Mrs. Frederic had shared Artie’s passionate defense of her. HG had laughed at first, not quite believing it. When Mrs. Frederic had continued telling her that Artie was certain that HG Wells would give her life for the warehouse she had just nodded and eased down in the nearest chair. It had finally happened. They believed in her.
‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’
Her old friend Mr. Doyle’s words put her back on track. There was unmistakable proof of time travel. Artie knew too much. He knew things he could not possibly have known under normal circumstances. HG grabbed her new notebook and started to copy down the information she had gathered over a century ago. The original notebook was simply too dangerous to share with anyone. Once done, she turned the page and wrote one word - Artie. Below she started to list her facts and findings.
The final result was an impressive list of events and masterful reasoning. HG Wells was convinced that she had indeed managed to solve the first part of the puzzle. The question was, how had Artie been able to find the artifact, and what devastating event had occurred for him to pursue this particular artifact? She had searched for it for years. Her research had shown that no one had seen or heard of any effect of it since the Black Death.
HG put her pen down and closed her old journal. She returned it to its original secure place inside the specially designed box. She smiled as she closed it and engaged the lock. It had been her pride and glory, presented to Caturanga as per his request that she design an unbreakable lock. Her eyes widened as she suddenly realized that she had made this before Caturanga had designed the chess lock. Had she unknowingly helped him? Her lock had some nasty secrets to it that would most definitely deter a thief from trying again.
She reached for her Farnsworth and opened it. Turning the dial to a familiar frequency she waited. It only took a few seconds before a stern face appeared on the screen.
“Agent Wells, to what do I owe the honor?”
“Mrs. Frederic,” HG said and smiled. “I think I solved the puzzle, or at least found the artifact involved. It explains the chain of events. Well, at least the ones we’re aware of.”
“Excellent work, Agent Wells. Meet me downstairs in the library in an hour.”
HG opened her mouth to respond, but the screen turned to black with a sassy chirp. She huffed and closed it.
“Well, goodbye to you too,” she muttered.
~ O ~
Mrs. Frederic had listened intently to her report while reviewing HG’s list of facts and events.
“Well done, Agent Wells,” she said and met HG’s dark eyes. “Have you figured out where the dagger fits into all of this?”
“Not yet, no. All I can think of is that Artie has had some form of indication that it will cause harm to him or someone close to us. He was very eager for me to find it.”
“So you said.” Mrs. Frederic sighed and looked down at the notebook again. “Whoever engages Magellan’s Astrolabe can never share this knowledge with anyone, without putting the person in grave danger,” she read out loud. Looking up again their eyes met. “This explains Agent Nielsen’s unwillingness to share information.”
“I know that I was part of whatever happened,” HG said softly. “It appears that my actions were, though not successful, apparently heroic.”
“So it appears,” Mrs. Frederic agreed. “And your actions might have been successful.”
“True, but not enough to avoid Artie engaging the Astrolabe.”
Mrs. Frederic nodded. “I think it is time for you to return to the Warehouse.”
“I agree.” HG twisted her hands, weighing her words. “Artie contacted me earlier. He wants to see me.”
“Good, then we do not have to explain why you’re returning.” Mrs. Frederic turned to face HG. “Agent Wells, be very careful, and I ask you not to share this information with your fellow agents just yet.”
“I agree, though I have one request.”
“I’m listening.”
“I wish to try to salvage my Time Machine. I believe that with Ms. Donovan’s assistance I could accomplish this. Between the two of us I am convinced that we can find an alternate power source.”
“I am certain that you will. The question is, Agent Wells, why now, and why at all?”
HG looked away, watching a bird on the birdfeeder outside the window as she gathered her thoughts. “I wish to try and contact my old teacher, Caturanga.”
“I see.”
HG turned back and met the Warehouse caretaker’s unreadable eyes. A curt nod was her answer and she grinned, pleased. She reached for her notebook and flipped a few pages.
“I have already…” HG looked up at Mrs. Frederic, but the woman was no longer there. “Honestly!” she muttered. “That is incredibly rude.”
To be Continued…
Author: Athena
Pairing: HG Wells & Myka Bering
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: All seasons up until episode 407.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these lovely ladies. Not writing for profit, just for entertainment. I thought our lovely Warehouse Agents needed a little fun time.
Summary: HG Wells is asked to research discrepancies that have surfaced since the incident with Walter Sykes. Working directly under Mrs. Frederic, HG Wells starts to investigate the chain of events in order to develop a theory.
A/N: If you, just like me, have wondered ‘where the hell HG Wells has been’, perhaps this little story will shed some light on things :)
Break the Rules - the Implications of Time Travel
“It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things.”
Leonardo da Vinci
Chapter 1 - Agent Wells’ First Mission
“Ms. Wells, a word?”
HG’s head snapped up at the sound of the Warehouse caretaker. “Certainly, Mrs. Frederic.”
She silently followed the woman until they reached the archives. Mrs. Fredric closed the door behind them and then faced HG.
“I need your help with an urgent matter.”
“Of course,” HG said, her eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Something is not right,” Mrs. Frederic continued. HG nodded. She had felt it too. “See this?” Mrs. Frederic pointed to the silver streak in her hair.
“Dear God!”
“Exactly.”
“I believe that it is possible to take care of that these days,” HG said with a tiny smirk.
“I am aware of that, Agent Wells,” Mrs. Frederic said and made a face. “The point is, Agent Wells, I have never had a gray hair before.”
“So this is what you need my assistance with? Coloring your hair?”
“Of course not!” Mrs. Frederic’s eyes narrowed. “Agent Wells, if I was looking for amusing solutions, I would’ve consulted Agent Lattimer.”
“Naturally.” HG rolled her eyes.
“Something happened to the Warehouse that caused this.”
HG instantly sobered. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure, but I think that Artie is involved somehow.”
HG nodded. She had found Artie’s behavior peculiar to say the least. “He’s hiding something.”
“You and I are both involved, Agent Wells, and perhaps the others are too.”
“The bomb,” HG said softly.
“Exactly. So, will you accept this as your first official assignment as a full Agent, Ms. Wells?”
“Absolutely!”
“Let’s go then.”
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“I cannot just leave,” HG said, almost in panic. Mrs. Frederic arched an eyebrow. “I must speak with Myka first.”
“Make it brief.”
HG nodded, suppressing an urge to salute the Warehouse caretaker. Before she would do or say something that would yet again make her an outcast, HG Wells hurried towards where she knew Myka was working.
~ O ~
“Hello, darling.”
“Helena,” Myka turned and smiled at her.
HG stepped closer and rested her hands on Myka’s hips. She brushed her lips against Myka’s in a soft kiss.
“God, I could really get used to this,” she whispered.
“What’s the matter with you?” Myka said and laughed.
“I’m going on a mission,” HG said softly.
“Oh? Did we get a ping?”
HG shook her head. “Mrs. Frederic has asked my assistance on a project. I am leaving with her.”
“Helena!” Myka stared wild-eyed at her. “Where? What’s going on? Why is she taking you away?”
HG cupped Myka’s face and silenced her with a firm kiss. “Hush, darling. No one is taking me away. She needs someone to do some research for her. It is of utmost importance and quite urgent I’m afraid. She asked me to not divulge further details until we know more.”
Myka nodded. “How long will you be gone?”
“I’m not certain actually,” HG said and frowned. She stroked Myka’s cheek. “Try to be happy for me. It’s my first official mission alone.”
“Of course I’m happy for you,” Myka said and smiled. “It’s just that I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” HG held up a brand new iPhone. “Artie gave me this earlier, so perhaps we can talk while I’m gone?”
Myka smiled and nodded. The two exchanged numbers and then started to head back together. Mrs. Frederic was waiting in Artie’s office.
“What took you so long, Agent Wells? I thought you might have changed your mind.”
HG chuckled and took Myka’s hand. “I did not want Myka to think that I had abandoned her right after having stated my intention to formally court her.”
Mrs. Frederic smiled and tilted her head. “How sweet. Well, Agent Bering is a big girl. I’m sure she will be able to handle a few weeks without you.”
“Weeks?” Myka squealed, her eyes wide.
“Is that a problem, Agent Bering? I’m sure the Regents will reconsider, once they know that you object to their request for Agent Wells’ expertise.”
Myka blushed and chewed on her lip. “No, of course not. It’s Helena’s decision anyway.”
“It will be all right,” HG assured her. The two lost themselves in each other’s eyes for a moment as they said a silent goodbye.
“Agent Wells!”
“Oh, yes... coming!” HG smiled at Myka over her shoulder as she hurried after the Warehouse caretaker.
~ O ~
Warehouse Regent’s UK Stronghold, undisclosed location, England, 2012
HG Wells jotted down another observation in her journal before putting her pen down. She leaned back, playing with her favorite writing tool as she lost herself in thought. There was something she had missed. Something very important. She tried to think back, but it was all such a blur. Getting up she walked over to the window. The landscape outside was lush and green, a gentle breeze playing in the trees. The sounds were all familiar and it soothed her.
After the months spent with her mind separated from her body due to the Janus coin, HG Wells treasured her new surroundings more than she ever had before. She had been so sure that returning to England would help her solve the mystery; that the right clues were here. Now she was starting to harbor doubt. A gentle knock on the door startled her, and she turned.
“Come.”
“Agent Wells, your tea.”
The young man entered and put down the tray. He looked up at her, waiting for her to say something.
“Thank you, Mr. Adams. That will be all.”
“Certainly, Agent Wells.”
He hurried back the same way he came, closing the door behind him. HG let out a heavy sigh. She really needed to try and be a bit nicer to him. Pouring a little milk into her cup she reached for the teapot and smiled as the dark brew mixed with the milk. She sipped it and hummed in pleasure at the lovely mixture of bitterness and sweetness. England really was the only place to get a prefect cup of tea.
‘… the perfect cup of tea, that’s a puzzle.’
She stopped short, her cup rattling a little on the saucer.
‘When the rules do not agree with one, it is sometimes necessary to change them.’
“Caturanga,” she whispered. “My dear, dear friend. How I wish you were here. I could for certain use your brilliant mind right about now.”
‘What do you smell, Miss Wells?’
HG took a deep breath and her eyes fluttered shut. What did she smell? Books. Leather. Ginger biscuits. The apple shampoo she had used that morning. Books. Books! Her eyes flew open and she put the cup down, bolting for the door.
~ O ~
HG Wells rested her hands on top of the trunk for a long moment. Inside lay parts of her past, the belongings of her friend and teacher, Caturanga. HG chuckled. She had constantly argued with him and challenged him, yet he would only smile and pose another question. No matter how much she tried to break him, it was always she who left the room with her hands tossed in the air in frustration, his teasing chuckle following in her wake.
“I wish I had been an easier student, old friend,” she whispered and ran her hands over the worn leather and dented wood.
With a look of determination on her face, HG pushed the lid open. A heady scent of old documents and leather engulfed her for a moment and she inhaled deeply. Her eyes misted a little as she detected a faint scent that she recognized as Caturanga.
Reaching inside she gently retrieved Caturanga’s chess set which rested on top of the remaining contents. Her fingers stroked the polished wood as she set it aside on the table next to her. Looking inside the trunk again, HG grabbed the first object her eyes fell on, one of Caturanga’s notebooks. She recognized his handwriting immediately. Leaning back on the sofa she lost herself in the words of her teacher.
~ O ~
Warehouse 12, London, December 5, 1889
Today I challenged my new apprentice, Miss Helena Wells, to a game of chess. I admit I had not very high hopes for an interesting game. As the case often is with Miss Wells, she surprised me in the most pleasant way.
HG chuckled and put the book down. She remembered that day. She had been stuck in her research and she was getting frustrated. Caturanga had only smiled as he listened to her ranting, and finally, when she fell silent, asked her to join him for a game of chess. In the end it had proved to be the distraction she needed in order to clear her mind. He had won, naturally, and she had stomped off again. Once returning to her books, she was still reviewing all the moves from the game in her head and that was when the answer finally came to her. Jumping to her feet she had left in search of the documents that would later prove to hold the key.
“Please for once, tell me,” she whispered in the empty room. “Guide me, old friend. I need your help this time. I cannot do it on my own.” HG rested her palm on top of the notebook for a moment. “Our Warehouse is gone now, and so are all the others. All the knowledge, all the wisdom - gone.”
She closed the book and got up. This was frustrating. If only her Time Machine still worked, she mused. HG Wells stopped in the middle of the room as if the bronzer had once again caught her in its grasp.
“Dear God, Artie, what did you do?” she gasped.
Glancing at Caturanga’s old trunk she immediately knew that the answer did not lie there. However, she knew exactly where to find it.
~ O ~
Warehouse 12, London, November 1899
Christina had been gone for four months, and HG Wells was starting to lose hope. Grabbing yet another couple of old books from the archive; she continued her mission. There had to be a way. She worked in a place where magic happened. It was obvious to her that a solution existed; she just had to find it.
“Miss Wells?”
HG closed her eyes for a second before turning around in her seat. “I am so sorry, old friend. I lost track of time.”
“You have submerged yourself in books, Miss Wells,” he said and smiled sadly. “In the past you were always so eager to investigate a Curiosity when it emerged. As of late, it appears that your interest in the Warehouse Archives has completely consumed you. What are you seeking, Helena? Perhaps I can help you?”
Stunned at the offer, since he had never offered before, she just stared at him. Eventually she just shook her head.
“I fear that this is a journey I have to make on my own,” she said and met his kind eyes. “I do not yet know what it is that I seek, only that I will know once I find it.”
“Be careful, Helena,” he said and smiled sadly at her. “The Warehouse has a way of drawing unbalanced souls in. I wish you would take my advice to return home for some time. You need time to grieve, to find a new light. If you don’t, I fear that you will eventually be driven to madness.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “I know. My dear, dear Caturanga. You are the kindest man I know, and I trust you over all others. Watch me, and confront me before it is too late. Even if you have to take drastic measures to do so, I beg you to. I will not go willingly, of that I am certain.”
“You have my word.” He smiled and bowed his head. “And with that I leave you. I think I finally managed to brew the perfect cup of tea, and I do not wish for it to spoil.”
She chuckled and held his gaze for a moment. He nodded once and then turned and left.
~ O ~
She had almost been surprised that the book was still there. Almost. She had, after all, secured it away more than a century ago. The contents were dangerous, especially for her. HG Wells gently opened the old journal, rubbing her fingers against the soft leather. Her familiar handwriting greeted her on the first page ‘The Theory of Time Travel, by HG Wells.’
The notes compiled within had been gathered during her dark years, those terrible, gut wrenching years after she lost Christina. In the beginning she had been full of hope, but as time wore on, hope had turned to determination, and then eventually an insane obsession. There had to be a way, there had to be a way… Those words had been her mantra in her pursuit of an artifact that could bring back her daughter.
Over the years she had documented, in excruciating detail, every artifact she had discovered to have any time travel potential or a history of affecting time. In the end, none of them had been able to do what she needed them to. Her frustration and crazed determination had been the force behind the creation of her Time Machine. HG Wells sighed and shook her head. It had still not been able to bring Christina back. All it had accomplished was allowing her to relive her daughter’s murder over and over again.
Pushing the thoughts of Christina out of her head, HG started reading. As always, it was a fast process. Charles had teased her when they were teenagers that she just looked at the pages, without actually reading the contents. In truth, HG Wells had early on developed a method for absorbing written information faster than the average person was able to. This skill had proven itself very useful over the years.
Reading about artifact after artifact she slowed down at the sight of an item. She ran her fingers over the drawing she had made in the top right corner. The watch looked eerily familiar. She read on and turned the page.
“Dear God,” she gasped. “This is it! Artie, what terrible event must have taken place for you to do this?”
HG leaned back and tapped her fingers against her lips. She knew Artie Nielsen. He was not prone to do things just for his own gain. No this was done out of concern for something much bigger. HG rubbed her chest, right above her heart. It was a recent discomfort that seemed to blossom at times of increased stress.
‘I am convinced that HG Wells would behave quite heroically…’
Mrs. Frederic had shared Artie’s passionate defense of her. HG had laughed at first, not quite believing it. When Mrs. Frederic had continued telling her that Artie was certain that HG Wells would give her life for the warehouse she had just nodded and eased down in the nearest chair. It had finally happened. They believed in her.
‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’
Her old friend Mr. Doyle’s words put her back on track. There was unmistakable proof of time travel. Artie knew too much. He knew things he could not possibly have known under normal circumstances. HG grabbed her new notebook and started to copy down the information she had gathered over a century ago. The original notebook was simply too dangerous to share with anyone. Once done, she turned the page and wrote one word - Artie. Below she started to list her facts and findings.
The final result was an impressive list of events and masterful reasoning. HG Wells was convinced that she had indeed managed to solve the first part of the puzzle. The question was, how had Artie been able to find the artifact, and what devastating event had occurred for him to pursue this particular artifact? She had searched for it for years. Her research had shown that no one had seen or heard of any effect of it since the Black Death.
HG put her pen down and closed her old journal. She returned it to its original secure place inside the specially designed box. She smiled as she closed it and engaged the lock. It had been her pride and glory, presented to Caturanga as per his request that she design an unbreakable lock. Her eyes widened as she suddenly realized that she had made this before Caturanga had designed the chess lock. Had she unknowingly helped him? Her lock had some nasty secrets to it that would most definitely deter a thief from trying again.
She reached for her Farnsworth and opened it. Turning the dial to a familiar frequency she waited. It only took a few seconds before a stern face appeared on the screen.
“Agent Wells, to what do I owe the honor?”
“Mrs. Frederic,” HG said and smiled. “I think I solved the puzzle, or at least found the artifact involved. It explains the chain of events. Well, at least the ones we’re aware of.”
“Excellent work, Agent Wells. Meet me downstairs in the library in an hour.”
HG opened her mouth to respond, but the screen turned to black with a sassy chirp. She huffed and closed it.
“Well, goodbye to you too,” she muttered.
~ O ~
Mrs. Frederic had listened intently to her report while reviewing HG’s list of facts and events.
“Well done, Agent Wells,” she said and met HG’s dark eyes. “Have you figured out where the dagger fits into all of this?”
“Not yet, no. All I can think of is that Artie has had some form of indication that it will cause harm to him or someone close to us. He was very eager for me to find it.”
“So you said.” Mrs. Frederic sighed and looked down at the notebook again. “Whoever engages Magellan’s Astrolabe can never share this knowledge with anyone, without putting the person in grave danger,” she read out loud. Looking up again their eyes met. “This explains Agent Nielsen’s unwillingness to share information.”
“I know that I was part of whatever happened,” HG said softly. “It appears that my actions were, though not successful, apparently heroic.”
“So it appears,” Mrs. Frederic agreed. “And your actions might have been successful.”
“True, but not enough to avoid Artie engaging the Astrolabe.”
Mrs. Frederic nodded. “I think it is time for you to return to the Warehouse.”
“I agree.” HG twisted her hands, weighing her words. “Artie contacted me earlier. He wants to see me.”
“Good, then we do not have to explain why you’re returning.” Mrs. Frederic turned to face HG. “Agent Wells, be very careful, and I ask you not to share this information with your fellow agents just yet.”
“I agree, though I have one request.”
“I’m listening.”
“I wish to try to salvage my Time Machine. I believe that with Ms. Donovan’s assistance I could accomplish this. Between the two of us I am convinced that we can find an alternate power source.”
“I am certain that you will. The question is, Agent Wells, why now, and why at all?”
HG looked away, watching a bird on the birdfeeder outside the window as she gathered her thoughts. “I wish to try and contact my old teacher, Caturanga.”
“I see.”
HG turned back and met the Warehouse caretaker’s unreadable eyes. A curt nod was her answer and she grinned, pleased. She reached for her notebook and flipped a few pages.
“I have already…” HG looked up at Mrs. Frederic, but the woman was no longer there. “Honestly!” she muttered. “That is incredibly rude.”
To be Continued…