Fic: Time and Turn (Chapter 9)
Title: Time and Turn
Chapter 9: Thread B: 2
Series: Chrysalis
Part: One
Author: NuMo
Rating: Teen and up audiences
Characters/Pairings:
Myka / Helena, Myka Bering, Helena "H. G." Wells, OFC, Claudia Donovan, Pete Lattimer, Steve Jinks, Artie Nielsen, Mrs. Frederic
Tags: Post-s4e10, probabyl jossed come April
Summary:
So join me for an episode which has women cupping cheeks, familiar tentative sideways glances, mentions of Berlin and Dresden and Germans zooming around in fast cars - oh yeah, and time travel too, but probably not the way you’d pictured it.
(I’m no good at summaries.)
Cross-posted at AO3. WH13 and its characters don’t belong to me, I’m just playing and I promise I’ll return them when I’m done. I do own my own characters, and, as always, I love me some feedback.
“So we need to go to that mill and stop the bad guy from destroying the world. And you should warn your fellow agents not to talk so goddamn much,” Sperling added grimly. “Plus, this time, I’ll drive.”
“You’ll what?” It seemed like an utter non-sequitur.
“Nevermind,” Sperling shook her head, turning away from Helena to stare down at the tapeworm of cars. “What I do know is that we can’t set much in motion until Mrs. Frederic arrives. She needs to be there, and if we don’t inform her of this-” she waved her hand around, “-change of plans, she will be looking for you here. Futilely, I might add, if we rush to that mill now.”
“I cannot contact her,” Helena said guardedly, “I don’t have the means.”
“But you could contact the others of your team, right? And they could contact her, then.”
“I’ve been told not to,” Helena said, still hearing Mrs. Frederic’s trust no one in one ear. The artifact begets evil. How do I know she’s-
“I’m on top of the personality split at the moment,” Sperling said, answering Helena’s thoughts rather than her words.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, it’s the obvious direction to think in, isn’t it.” Sperling pursed her lips. “Look, I’m not sure how to get you to trust me, but…” She suddenly snapped her fingers and started to rummage in her worn-out rucksack. “Maybe this helps.” And proffered a disk wrapped in purple cloth.
“What the-” Helena stared at it, then unearthed a pair of gloves from her own bag and unwrapped- “the astrolabe,” she breathed. She swallowed, then raised her eyes to meet Sperling’s slightly embarrassed gaze. “I feel inclined to agree that someone harboring unfathomable evil would not give it away like that. But-” She unslung her bag fully, set it down on the pavement and brought out the - other? - astrolabe. The cloth was the same, the weight was the same, and when she took hers and held it above the one Sperling had given her, the size was the same. Every blessed little detail was the same. Then the upper one dipped as if suddenly magnetic, and its far edge sank into the lower one. “What the-” Helena repeated, at a loss for words to finish the sentiment with. The joined artifacts tugged and she let go of one in favor of holding both, watching until they had merged into one.
“Figures,” Sperling shrugged after a moment of silent contemplation, then looked up at Helena with a lopsided smile. “Otherwise there would be quite a few of these thingies around by now, right?”
Helena took a deep breath, and re-wrapped and re-bagged the artifact. “So it would appear.” She straightened again, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “Now, if I were indeed to call my colleagues - what would I tell them?”
“We need Mrs. Frederic and the dagger to be at the mill as quickly after Mrs. Frederic’s flight sets down as possible. And we might need a container, if Agent Nielsen manages to break the one the orchid is contained in at the moment.”
Well, that definitely called out for a like-minded intellect. She had dialed half of Claudia’s number when Sperling snapped her fingers.
“Wait - we could ask her to come to Zittau directly,” she said. “There’s really no point in her coming to Berlin only to rush south with us again, is there.” She tapped her fingers against her mouth, then snapped them once more. “Dresden!” She turned her eyes on Helena again. “Ask whomever you’re contacting if they can’t tell Mrs. Frederic to come to Dresden. There’s an airport there.”
Helena nodded and finished dialing.
“Ho-ho, lookee who’s there,” Claudia answered after barely more than one signal. “What gives, H.G.?”
Helena quickly outlined their ideas, trying to present them without mentioning astrolabes, time travel, or shanghaied bystanders.
“Got it,” Claudia said. “Now who’s the clairvoyant in the background?”
“Claudia, I don’t-”
“Come on, H.G., there’s something you know that I don’t, and we know Mrs. Frederic isn’t with you. So there’s gotta be someone reading her lines at your end.”
“Claudia, don’t misinterpret me, but I’d really rather you just looked into what I asked.”
The line was silent for so long that Helena was tempted to tap her phone with her finger. Then, “Right.” A heavy sigh followed, and then the unmistakable sounds of Claudia Donovan besting a computer keyboard, interspersed with a few disjointed phrases like “Düsseldorf, for crying out loud,” or “no, that won’t work either.” Then came the sound of a small, triumphant tattoo, drummed out on something that reverberated dully. “Train!” Claudia exclaimed.
“Train.” Helena waited patiently. An explanation would be forthcoming, she was sure of it.
“It doesn’t make sense to book Mrs. Frederic on a plane to Dresden, they don’t do non-stop flights. And then I realized that the two places are actually, like, only a hundred and twenty miles apart. God, Europe is so tiny.”
“In fact, the United States are mind-bogglingly large,” Helena disagreed. “Well, at least to other, smaller minds,” she amended, at Claudia’s snort of patent disbelief.
“So I’ll just sit her on a train, then,” Claudia said slowly. Then her voice turned chipper, always a sign of imminent danger. “Should I put her on the one that leaves at six-thirty a.m., or the one two hours later?”
“Time is of the essence, Ms. Donovan,” Helena said, sighing in mock regret.
“Neat,” Claudia squealed, and Helena held the phone away from her ear. “A few finishing touches, and the fell deed is done!” The last word coincided with another excitable drum roll. Then Claudia cleared her throat. “Uh, dude. Now you’ll only have to tell her. Hey, I’ll be cheering for you,” she added quickly.
“Agent Donovan,” Helena said, drawing out the moment for maximum effect, “it appears I do in fact not have a Farnsworth on my person.”
Claudia swallowed audibly.
Chapter 9: Thread B: 2
Series: Chrysalis
Part: One
Author: NuMo
Rating: Teen and up audiences
Characters/Pairings:
Myka / Helena, Myka Bering, Helena "H. G." Wells, OFC, Claudia Donovan, Pete Lattimer, Steve Jinks, Artie Nielsen, Mrs. Frederic
Tags: Post-s4e10, probabyl jossed come April
Summary:
So join me for an episode which has women cupping cheeks, familiar tentative sideways glances, mentions of Berlin and Dresden and Germans zooming around in fast cars - oh yeah, and time travel too, but probably not the way you’d pictured it.
(I’m no good at summaries.)
Cross-posted at AO3. WH13 and its characters don’t belong to me, I’m just playing and I promise I’ll return them when I’m done. I do own my own characters, and, as always, I love me some feedback.
“So we need to go to that mill and stop the bad guy from destroying the world. And you should warn your fellow agents not to talk so goddamn much,” Sperling added grimly. “Plus, this time, I’ll drive.”
“You’ll what?” It seemed like an utter non-sequitur.
“Nevermind,” Sperling shook her head, turning away from Helena to stare down at the tapeworm of cars. “What I do know is that we can’t set much in motion until Mrs. Frederic arrives. She needs to be there, and if we don’t inform her of this-” she waved her hand around, “-change of plans, she will be looking for you here. Futilely, I might add, if we rush to that mill now.”
“I cannot contact her,” Helena said guardedly, “I don’t have the means.”
“But you could contact the others of your team, right? And they could contact her, then.”
“I’ve been told not to,” Helena said, still hearing Mrs. Frederic’s trust no one in one ear. The artifact begets evil. How do I know she’s-
“I’m on top of the personality split at the moment,” Sperling said, answering Helena’s thoughts rather than her words.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, it’s the obvious direction to think in, isn’t it.” Sperling pursed her lips. “Look, I’m not sure how to get you to trust me, but…” She suddenly snapped her fingers and started to rummage in her worn-out rucksack. “Maybe this helps.” And proffered a disk wrapped in purple cloth.
“What the-” Helena stared at it, then unearthed a pair of gloves from her own bag and unwrapped- “the astrolabe,” she breathed. She swallowed, then raised her eyes to meet Sperling’s slightly embarrassed gaze. “I feel inclined to agree that someone harboring unfathomable evil would not give it away like that. But-” She unslung her bag fully, set it down on the pavement and brought out the - other? - astrolabe. The cloth was the same, the weight was the same, and when she took hers and held it above the one Sperling had given her, the size was the same. Every blessed little detail was the same. Then the upper one dipped as if suddenly magnetic, and its far edge sank into the lower one. “What the-” Helena repeated, at a loss for words to finish the sentiment with. The joined artifacts tugged and she let go of one in favor of holding both, watching until they had merged into one.
“Figures,” Sperling shrugged after a moment of silent contemplation, then looked up at Helena with a lopsided smile. “Otherwise there would be quite a few of these thingies around by now, right?”
Helena took a deep breath, and re-wrapped and re-bagged the artifact. “So it would appear.” She straightened again, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “Now, if I were indeed to call my colleagues - what would I tell them?”
“We need Mrs. Frederic and the dagger to be at the mill as quickly after Mrs. Frederic’s flight sets down as possible. And we might need a container, if Agent Nielsen manages to break the one the orchid is contained in at the moment.”
Well, that definitely called out for a like-minded intellect. She had dialed half of Claudia’s number when Sperling snapped her fingers.
“Wait - we could ask her to come to Zittau directly,” she said. “There’s really no point in her coming to Berlin only to rush south with us again, is there.” She tapped her fingers against her mouth, then snapped them once more. “Dresden!” She turned her eyes on Helena again. “Ask whomever you’re contacting if they can’t tell Mrs. Frederic to come to Dresden. There’s an airport there.”
Helena nodded and finished dialing.
“Ho-ho, lookee who’s there,” Claudia answered after barely more than one signal. “What gives, H.G.?”
Helena quickly outlined their ideas, trying to present them without mentioning astrolabes, time travel, or shanghaied bystanders.
“Got it,” Claudia said. “Now who’s the clairvoyant in the background?”
“Claudia, I don’t-”
“Come on, H.G., there’s something you know that I don’t, and we know Mrs. Frederic isn’t with you. So there’s gotta be someone reading her lines at your end.”
“Claudia, don’t misinterpret me, but I’d really rather you just looked into what I asked.”
The line was silent for so long that Helena was tempted to tap her phone with her finger. Then, “Right.” A heavy sigh followed, and then the unmistakable sounds of Claudia Donovan besting a computer keyboard, interspersed with a few disjointed phrases like “Düsseldorf, for crying out loud,” or “no, that won’t work either.” Then came the sound of a small, triumphant tattoo, drummed out on something that reverberated dully. “Train!” Claudia exclaimed.
“Train.” Helena waited patiently. An explanation would be forthcoming, she was sure of it.
“It doesn’t make sense to book Mrs. Frederic on a plane to Dresden, they don’t do non-stop flights. And then I realized that the two places are actually, like, only a hundred and twenty miles apart. God, Europe is so tiny.”
“In fact, the United States are mind-bogglingly large,” Helena disagreed. “Well, at least to other, smaller minds,” she amended, at Claudia’s snort of patent disbelief.
“So I’ll just sit her on a train, then,” Claudia said slowly. Then her voice turned chipper, always a sign of imminent danger. “Should I put her on the one that leaves at six-thirty a.m., or the one two hours later?”
“Time is of the essence, Ms. Donovan,” Helena said, sighing in mock regret.
“Neat,” Claudia squealed, and Helena held the phone away from her ear. “A few finishing touches, and the fell deed is done!” The last word coincided with another excitable drum roll. Then Claudia cleared her throat. “Uh, dude. Now you’ll only have to tell her. Hey, I’ll be cheering for you,” she added quickly.
“Agent Donovan,” Helena said, drawing out the moment for maximum effect, “it appears I do in fact not have a Farnsworth on my person.”
Claudia swallowed audibly.