Fic: Relics 4/4 (Sanctuary)
Apr. 1st, 2011 06:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Meta and Notes
Teaser and Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
And here is the final chapter! Thank you for following along. This was something of an experiment in writing for me, and I'm glad to share it with you.
Chapter 4
1900
The cook was long in bed and there was no reason to linger in the kitchen at so late an hour, but Caleb couldn’t sleep. He sat on the low wooden bench with his feet stretched out towards the dying fire and his hands wrapped around a cooling mug of mulled cider. Carefully, he let his guard down, the better to feel what nagged at the edge of his senses.
The household asleep, mercifully, which meant that as he opened his mind he wasn’t in danger of picking anything up from them, nor of influencing them inadvertently. He reached out then, seeking the edge of his consciousness and the worry that hovered there, keeping him restless and unable to settle. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.
Caleb stirred the fire, in preparation for the arrival, and had just stood up where there was frantic knocking on the kitchen door. He sensed fear and a sadness so deep it very nearly enveloped him. And he sensed anger, stronger than he had ever felt before. He took a moment to put his barriers back in place, while the hammering at the door continued, and then crossed the room to open it.
“Miss Wells!” he said, surprised. Usually he could tell when someone he was familiar with was approaching. Perhaps the sheer weight of her emotions had muffled his finer senses. “Come in, please.”
He hadn’t seen Helena Wells since Dr. Magnus had informed him of Christina Wells’s murder in France the previous year. He was surprised to see her now, and so late in the night, but he did not hesitate to bring her into the kitchen and install her in one of the chairs.
In the firelight, he could see that her face was drawn and sharp, and there was something new in her eyes that hadn’t been there the last time he had seen her, when she’d signed his copy of The Invisible Man. She’d been mischievous then, signing the “Helena” with a flourish and making a comment that someday, she’d publish her books with her own name on them for real. The woman in the kitchen was a pale shade of that liveliness.
“I know it’s late,” Helena said, “But do you think Helen would see me? It’s something of an emergency.”
“Of course,” Caleb said.
He stepped out of the kitchen and focused his mind on the sleeping Doctor Magnus. It was not something he did often, nor something he particularly liked, but it was something they had agreed was appropriate in times of need. He woke her as gently as he could, and knew that she would find her way to the kitchen soon enough.
He stepped back through the door before his mental shield was fully in place again, and was nearly bowled over by the strength of the emotions rolling off of Helena Wells. She was very nearly out of control with anger and despair, and without thinking of his intent or the consequences, he began to mollify her, soothing her fractured state of mind.
“Dr. Magnus will be down in a moment,” he said. He realized abruptly what he was doing, but she was so calmed by it that he was almost afraid to stop, lest the storm be unleashed again.
They sat rather awkwardly for a few minutes, waiting. This was new as well. Before, Helena had always striven to keep him at his ease, joking with him as though they were equals, which she always maintained they were. Her silence was as unnerving as everything else, and he found he was quite grateful when Dr. Magnus finally arrived.
“Helena!” she said from the doorway, clearly shocked. “What on earth – ”
She trailed off and looked at Caleb.
“Shall I make tea?” he asked, because it was the first thing that occurred to him.
Helen looked at Helena, her eyes taking the other woman in quickly. “No, thank you. I can manage.”
Caleb recognized his cue to exit, but he did not risk going very far down the hallway. For better or worse, he had to maintain his hold on Helena.
Helen waited until the door swung shut behind him before she turned back to her friend. She went and sat next to her, as close as she could manage, and took Helena’s hand in her own. It was cold, not yet having warmed up from the chilled air outside. Helen realized that Helena must have walked here, no small risk at this hour, Warehouse Agent or no, and wondered what had gone wrong.
“Why did you preserve your child?” Helena said.
Helen was taken aback. She had not expected anything like this.
“You couldn’t bear the thought of carrying John’s child,” Helena went on, her voice harsh. “Why did you keep it?”
“I suppose,” Helen started, and found herself choking on the words. She cleared her throat and started again. “I suppose I hoped that someday I would be able to bear it. That the horror of what John did would fade, and I could find some small joy in memories of him.”
“Even if it takes a hundred years?” Helena said.
“Yes,” Helen said. “I haven’t aged a day since 1886. I have the luxury of waiting.”
“Do you think it will be better in a hundred years?” Helena said. “The world, I mean. Do you think the world will be better?”
“I do,” Helen said without hesitating. “I’m not particularly upset with it now, of course, but I think my part in the world will only get better.”
There was a moment of silence, punctuated by the crackling fire, while Helena considered her words. Helen looked at her and wondered if anything she said would really get through to her friend.
“I wanted to say good-bye,” Helena said at length.
“Where are you going?” Helen replied.
“The Warehouse will take me,” she said. “I’ve broken a great many of its rules lately. Been reckless. Bloodthirsty. The Regents won’t stand for it anymore.”
“I can protect you, if you want,” Helen said.
“No,” Helena replied, her eyes alight with something Helen wasn’t sure she liked. “No, this is what I chose.”
They sat for a moment, the fire crackling in the darkened kitchen. There was the sound of a heavy carriage coming to a stop in the street outside the kitchen door. Helena drew a Tesla out from somewhere within her skirts and placed it on the table.
“Helena,” Helen began.
“No, Helen,” Helena said. “Give my love to Nigel and Nikola, and tell James he is wrong about absolutely everything.”
“Helena, please,” Helen tried again. There was the sound of boots outside the door.
“If all goes well, maybe we’ll meet again,” Helena said. She stood and crossed the kitchen. She threw the door open, and the soft glow of the street lamps lit her face. She looked almost happy, and Helen didn’t understand.
The men in the street outside grabbed her by the shoulders, even though she didn’t resist them, and pulled her out into the night.
In the hallway, Caleb lost his hold on her as she was wrenched away, but just before she was out of his range, he felt her rage uncoil anew.
+++
Present Day
“So you’re H.G. Wells,” Will said, staring at her through the glass. She seemed so small and harmless. It was hard to believe that she was a famous writer from the Victorian period, and harder still to believe that she was so dangerous he shouldn’t even talk to her.
“The one and only,” she said with a smile.
“Do you mind if I come in and talk to you?” Will said.
“I’m at your disposal.”
+++
“Boss,” Henry said into his radio. “We have a breach in the SHU.”
“I’m aware of it Henry,” Helen said. “Can you see anything on the monitor?”
“It looks like Will’s down,” Henry said, grimacing. “I don’t see H.G. Wells at all.”
“Check the other hallways,” Helen said.
Henry had just switched to multiple screen view when he felt the cold metal of a stunner pressed to the back of his head.
“Did you make these modifications yourself?” H.G. Wells said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks,” said Henry. “But I really do prefer it when – ”
Whatever it was he preferred was lost to the sound of the gun’s discharge, and he crumpled over his computer screens.
“Where are you, Helen Magnus?” Helena said, scanning each monitor.
+++
Helen was just pouring a second cup of tea when Helena entered the room, gun still raised and guard still up.
“Do you still take sugar?” she said.
“Two, please,” Helena said. She didn’t lower the gun. “What are you playing at?”
“I might ask you the same question,” Helen said. “Do you really believe you’ve only to knock two people unconscious and walk out the door?”
“It seemed as good a place as any to start,” Helena said. She lowered the gun a fraction of a centimetre, and then all the way, though she was still tightly wound. Reluctantly, as though it was against her better judgment, she came forward and perched on the edge of the sofa that faced Helen.
“I have very little patience for people who try to end the world,” Helen said, as though this sort of thing was an every day occurrence. And, Helena thought, it sort of was.
“I have very little patience for anything at all, it seems,” Helens said sharply.
“Can you truly say you felt nothing for those agents?” Helen said. “For Agent Bering, in particular.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about feelings, Helen Magnus,” Helena said, finally provoked. “You do whatever you wish, and no one dares stop you because you’re crazier than I am.”
“That is not true,” Helen said. “I have intentionally surrounded myself with people who are not afraid to stop me.”
“You could never understand how much pain I was in,” Helena said, her voice rising.
“You had no right to take your pain out on the rest of the world,” Helen replied, matching her tone.
“So I should hide it away, like you did?” Helena said. “You were so afraid of your own child that you put it in a bottle.”
“Ashley died!” Helen turned her head and brought her hand to her mouth as though she could force the words back in. When she looked back at Helena, there were tears in her eyes. She was still angry, but her voice was tightly controlled. “So don’t tell me I don’t understand your pain,” she said through clenched teeth. “Because I do.”
Helena slumped back against the sofa, cradling her head in one hand and the stunner in the other. “How did we end up like this?” she said, her voice heavy with defeat.
“No one can run forever,” Helen said. “Even invisible men get caught.”
“And what happens when they get caught?” Helena said, straightening.
“Well I certainly don’t Bronze them,” Helen said. “I try to help them. Do you remember Caleb?”
“Yes, your empath,” Helena said, a slight smile on her face. “He never would call me by my name.”
“He respected you too much,” Helen said. “Anyway, he got married in 1906 and had a daughter who also had a daughter, and all of them were empaths. Her name is Sylvia and her grandfather told her all about you.”
“Wonderful,” Helena said.
“The good things, I assume,” Helen said, only a little reproachfully. “In any case, she is one of my freelancers, sometimes but she’s getting older and looking for a job that’s a little more sedate. If you consent, she can form a bond between you, so that she can monitor your emotions and keep you stable, until you’re able to do it yourself.”
“So I’d be a zombie?” Helena said distastefully.
“Only if you were in danger of flying off the handle,’ Helen said. “If you behave, she’ll just be your roommate.”
“Where?” Helena said. “If memory serves, empaths prefer a certain amount of isolation.”
“Salt Spring Island, Canada,” Helen said. “It’s actually rather pretty.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Helena said. “Contemplate my situation? Invent things for the Sanctuary Network?”
“I always liked your novels,” Helen said neutrally.
“I think I’m finished with science fiction,” Helena said darkly.
“So write something else,” Helen suggested.
“It would be nice to publish under my own name,” Helena mused.
“Indeed,” Helen said. She held out the cup as though it were an olive branch. “Tea?”
+++
Epilogue
Kate stopped by the infirmary to visit Will and Henry on her way back up to Helen’s office. She and the Big Guy, apparently, had been the only ones to take the boss’s advice and lay low for the duration of H.G. Wells’s visit, and as a result were the only ones not sporting bruises, either physical or emotional, for it. Henry was recovering well enough, and Nikola had confined himself to the library again. Kate suspected he was more hiding from memory than anything else. Will’s black eye was actually quite shockingly purple, which Kate took great pleasure in pointing out to him, before the Big Guy had chased her out of the infirmary so the boys could rest.
Helen’s office was brightly lit against the night, and Helen was curled up on the sofa reading a book. It was a novel, Kate could tell from the doorway, on account of it being about a quarter of the size of any of the books Helen used for research. Kate craned her neck to see the cover, and smiled as she recognized the empty suit and hat. She didn’t need to see the words after that.
“Did you like it?” Helen asked, looking up and waving Kate in.
“I thought the ending was sad,” Kate said. “I like happy ones.”
“So do I,” Helen said. “Good story be damned.”
“I do understand why people still read it, though,” Kate said. “Maybe that’s worth an unhappily ever after.”
“You’re probably right,” Helen said. “Have you ever read War of the Worlds?”
“I wasn’t really much for classics before I got here,” Kate said. “But I saw the movie.”
Helen wrinkled her nose. “You should listen to the radio play. It was hilarious. Nikola probably has a copy of it somewhere.”
“I think I might live in the present for a bit,” Kate said. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Helen said. “Though if you tell me you liked "Eat, Pray, Love", I may fire you.”
“No fear of that,” Kate said with distaste. She kicked off her boots and put her feet up on the sofa, sparing a quick look at her boss to make sure she wasn’t committing a grievous offense, and put in her headphones.
Helen smiled, and turned the page.
+++
fin
Notes: Thanks to
eldanna,
st_aurafina and
lone_pyramid for all their help.
Gravity_Not_Included, March 28, 2011
Teaser and Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
And here is the final chapter! Thank you for following along. This was something of an experiment in writing for me, and I'm glad to share it with you.
Chapter 4
1900
The cook was long in bed and there was no reason to linger in the kitchen at so late an hour, but Caleb couldn’t sleep. He sat on the low wooden bench with his feet stretched out towards the dying fire and his hands wrapped around a cooling mug of mulled cider. Carefully, he let his guard down, the better to feel what nagged at the edge of his senses.
The household asleep, mercifully, which meant that as he opened his mind he wasn’t in danger of picking anything up from them, nor of influencing them inadvertently. He reached out then, seeking the edge of his consciousness and the worry that hovered there, keeping him restless and unable to settle. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.
Caleb stirred the fire, in preparation for the arrival, and had just stood up where there was frantic knocking on the kitchen door. He sensed fear and a sadness so deep it very nearly enveloped him. And he sensed anger, stronger than he had ever felt before. He took a moment to put his barriers back in place, while the hammering at the door continued, and then crossed the room to open it.
“Miss Wells!” he said, surprised. Usually he could tell when someone he was familiar with was approaching. Perhaps the sheer weight of her emotions had muffled his finer senses. “Come in, please.”
He hadn’t seen Helena Wells since Dr. Magnus had informed him of Christina Wells’s murder in France the previous year. He was surprised to see her now, and so late in the night, but he did not hesitate to bring her into the kitchen and install her in one of the chairs.
In the firelight, he could see that her face was drawn and sharp, and there was something new in her eyes that hadn’t been there the last time he had seen her, when she’d signed his copy of The Invisible Man. She’d been mischievous then, signing the “Helena” with a flourish and making a comment that someday, she’d publish her books with her own name on them for real. The woman in the kitchen was a pale shade of that liveliness.
“I know it’s late,” Helena said, “But do you think Helen would see me? It’s something of an emergency.”
“Of course,” Caleb said.
He stepped out of the kitchen and focused his mind on the sleeping Doctor Magnus. It was not something he did often, nor something he particularly liked, but it was something they had agreed was appropriate in times of need. He woke her as gently as he could, and knew that she would find her way to the kitchen soon enough.
He stepped back through the door before his mental shield was fully in place again, and was nearly bowled over by the strength of the emotions rolling off of Helena Wells. She was very nearly out of control with anger and despair, and without thinking of his intent or the consequences, he began to mollify her, soothing her fractured state of mind.
“Dr. Magnus will be down in a moment,” he said. He realized abruptly what he was doing, but she was so calmed by it that he was almost afraid to stop, lest the storm be unleashed again.
They sat rather awkwardly for a few minutes, waiting. This was new as well. Before, Helena had always striven to keep him at his ease, joking with him as though they were equals, which she always maintained they were. Her silence was as unnerving as everything else, and he found he was quite grateful when Dr. Magnus finally arrived.
“Helena!” she said from the doorway, clearly shocked. “What on earth – ”
She trailed off and looked at Caleb.
“Shall I make tea?” he asked, because it was the first thing that occurred to him.
Helen looked at Helena, her eyes taking the other woman in quickly. “No, thank you. I can manage.”
Caleb recognized his cue to exit, but he did not risk going very far down the hallway. For better or worse, he had to maintain his hold on Helena.
Helen waited until the door swung shut behind him before she turned back to her friend. She went and sat next to her, as close as she could manage, and took Helena’s hand in her own. It was cold, not yet having warmed up from the chilled air outside. Helen realized that Helena must have walked here, no small risk at this hour, Warehouse Agent or no, and wondered what had gone wrong.
“Why did you preserve your child?” Helena said.
Helen was taken aback. She had not expected anything like this.
“You couldn’t bear the thought of carrying John’s child,” Helena went on, her voice harsh. “Why did you keep it?”
“I suppose,” Helen started, and found herself choking on the words. She cleared her throat and started again. “I suppose I hoped that someday I would be able to bear it. That the horror of what John did would fade, and I could find some small joy in memories of him.”
“Even if it takes a hundred years?” Helena said.
“Yes,” Helen said. “I haven’t aged a day since 1886. I have the luxury of waiting.”
“Do you think it will be better in a hundred years?” Helena said. “The world, I mean. Do you think the world will be better?”
“I do,” Helen said without hesitating. “I’m not particularly upset with it now, of course, but I think my part in the world will only get better.”
There was a moment of silence, punctuated by the crackling fire, while Helena considered her words. Helen looked at her and wondered if anything she said would really get through to her friend.
“I wanted to say good-bye,” Helena said at length.
“Where are you going?” Helen replied.
“The Warehouse will take me,” she said. “I’ve broken a great many of its rules lately. Been reckless. Bloodthirsty. The Regents won’t stand for it anymore.”
“I can protect you, if you want,” Helen said.
“No,” Helena replied, her eyes alight with something Helen wasn’t sure she liked. “No, this is what I chose.”
They sat for a moment, the fire crackling in the darkened kitchen. There was the sound of a heavy carriage coming to a stop in the street outside the kitchen door. Helena drew a Tesla out from somewhere within her skirts and placed it on the table.
“Helena,” Helen began.
“No, Helen,” Helena said. “Give my love to Nigel and Nikola, and tell James he is wrong about absolutely everything.”
“Helena, please,” Helen tried again. There was the sound of boots outside the door.
“If all goes well, maybe we’ll meet again,” Helena said. She stood and crossed the kitchen. She threw the door open, and the soft glow of the street lamps lit her face. She looked almost happy, and Helen didn’t understand.
The men in the street outside grabbed her by the shoulders, even though she didn’t resist them, and pulled her out into the night.
In the hallway, Caleb lost his hold on her as she was wrenched away, but just before she was out of his range, he felt her rage uncoil anew.
+++
Present Day
“So you’re H.G. Wells,” Will said, staring at her through the glass. She seemed so small and harmless. It was hard to believe that she was a famous writer from the Victorian period, and harder still to believe that she was so dangerous he shouldn’t even talk to her.
“The one and only,” she said with a smile.
“Do you mind if I come in and talk to you?” Will said.
“I’m at your disposal.”
+++
“Boss,” Henry said into his radio. “We have a breach in the SHU.”
“I’m aware of it Henry,” Helen said. “Can you see anything on the monitor?”
“It looks like Will’s down,” Henry said, grimacing. “I don’t see H.G. Wells at all.”
“Check the other hallways,” Helen said.
Henry had just switched to multiple screen view when he felt the cold metal of a stunner pressed to the back of his head.
“Did you make these modifications yourself?” H.G. Wells said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks,” said Henry. “But I really do prefer it when – ”
Whatever it was he preferred was lost to the sound of the gun’s discharge, and he crumpled over his computer screens.
“Where are you, Helen Magnus?” Helena said, scanning each monitor.
+++
Helen was just pouring a second cup of tea when Helena entered the room, gun still raised and guard still up.
“Do you still take sugar?” she said.
“Two, please,” Helena said. She didn’t lower the gun. “What are you playing at?”
“I might ask you the same question,” Helen said. “Do you really believe you’ve only to knock two people unconscious and walk out the door?”
“It seemed as good a place as any to start,” Helena said. She lowered the gun a fraction of a centimetre, and then all the way, though she was still tightly wound. Reluctantly, as though it was against her better judgment, she came forward and perched on the edge of the sofa that faced Helen.
“I have very little patience for people who try to end the world,” Helen said, as though this sort of thing was an every day occurrence. And, Helena thought, it sort of was.
“I have very little patience for anything at all, it seems,” Helens said sharply.
“Can you truly say you felt nothing for those agents?” Helen said. “For Agent Bering, in particular.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about feelings, Helen Magnus,” Helena said, finally provoked. “You do whatever you wish, and no one dares stop you because you’re crazier than I am.”
“That is not true,” Helen said. “I have intentionally surrounded myself with people who are not afraid to stop me.”
“You could never understand how much pain I was in,” Helena said, her voice rising.
“You had no right to take your pain out on the rest of the world,” Helen replied, matching her tone.
“So I should hide it away, like you did?” Helena said. “You were so afraid of your own child that you put it in a bottle.”
“Ashley died!” Helen turned her head and brought her hand to her mouth as though she could force the words back in. When she looked back at Helena, there were tears in her eyes. She was still angry, but her voice was tightly controlled. “So don’t tell me I don’t understand your pain,” she said through clenched teeth. “Because I do.”
Helena slumped back against the sofa, cradling her head in one hand and the stunner in the other. “How did we end up like this?” she said, her voice heavy with defeat.
“No one can run forever,” Helen said. “Even invisible men get caught.”
“And what happens when they get caught?” Helena said, straightening.
“Well I certainly don’t Bronze them,” Helen said. “I try to help them. Do you remember Caleb?”
“Yes, your empath,” Helena said, a slight smile on her face. “He never would call me by my name.”
“He respected you too much,” Helen said. “Anyway, he got married in 1906 and had a daughter who also had a daughter, and all of them were empaths. Her name is Sylvia and her grandfather told her all about you.”
“Wonderful,” Helena said.
“The good things, I assume,” Helen said, only a little reproachfully. “In any case, she is one of my freelancers, sometimes but she’s getting older and looking for a job that’s a little more sedate. If you consent, she can form a bond between you, so that she can monitor your emotions and keep you stable, until you’re able to do it yourself.”
“So I’d be a zombie?” Helena said distastefully.
“Only if you were in danger of flying off the handle,’ Helen said. “If you behave, she’ll just be your roommate.”
“Where?” Helena said. “If memory serves, empaths prefer a certain amount of isolation.”
“Salt Spring Island, Canada,” Helen said. “It’s actually rather pretty.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Helena said. “Contemplate my situation? Invent things for the Sanctuary Network?”
“I always liked your novels,” Helen said neutrally.
“I think I’m finished with science fiction,” Helena said darkly.
“So write something else,” Helen suggested.
“It would be nice to publish under my own name,” Helena mused.
“Indeed,” Helen said. She held out the cup as though it were an olive branch. “Tea?”
Epilogue
Kate stopped by the infirmary to visit Will and Henry on her way back up to Helen’s office. She and the Big Guy, apparently, had been the only ones to take the boss’s advice and lay low for the duration of H.G. Wells’s visit, and as a result were the only ones not sporting bruises, either physical or emotional, for it. Henry was recovering well enough, and Nikola had confined himself to the library again. Kate suspected he was more hiding from memory than anything else. Will’s black eye was actually quite shockingly purple, which Kate took great pleasure in pointing out to him, before the Big Guy had chased her out of the infirmary so the boys could rest.
Helen’s office was brightly lit against the night, and Helen was curled up on the sofa reading a book. It was a novel, Kate could tell from the doorway, on account of it being about a quarter of the size of any of the books Helen used for research. Kate craned her neck to see the cover, and smiled as she recognized the empty suit and hat. She didn’t need to see the words after that.
“Did you like it?” Helen asked, looking up and waving Kate in.
“I thought the ending was sad,” Kate said. “I like happy ones.”
“So do I,” Helen said. “Good story be damned.”
“I do understand why people still read it, though,” Kate said. “Maybe that’s worth an unhappily ever after.”
“You’re probably right,” Helen said. “Have you ever read War of the Worlds?”
“I wasn’t really much for classics before I got here,” Kate said. “But I saw the movie.”
Helen wrinkled her nose. “You should listen to the radio play. It was hilarious. Nikola probably has a copy of it somewhere.”
“I think I might live in the present for a bit,” Kate said. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Helen said. “Though if you tell me you liked "Eat, Pray, Love", I may fire you.”
“No fear of that,” Kate said with distaste. She kicked off her boots and put her feet up on the sofa, sparing a quick look at her boss to make sure she wasn’t committing a grievous offense, and put in her headphones.
Helen smiled, and turned the page.
+++
fin
Notes: Thanks to
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Gravity_Not_Included, March 28, 2011