Agent H.G. Wells

“Oh, that’s barbaric. Do I look like a barbarian to you?”

Helena raises an eyebrow in the soldier’s direction. She isn’t insulted though. It’s clear that hanging would be Lawrence’s fate if he really was captured by the enemy during the Revolutionary War.

“Lawrence, no one is going to hang you. It’s 2016, not 1776. See?”

She pulls out her cellphone with the date displayed on the screen. The cellphone itself may be enough to convince him that he’s indeed in the future.

You're on the trail of an artifact held by a local but now suddenly powerful gang. They text you using a familiar face's phone: "we have your pup. If you want her back, you'll leave us alone."

[re]: You’ve made a big mistake. One that I’m sure you’ll regret.

Whipping out her Farnsworth, Helena reaches every Warehouse agent’s favorite hacker and soon has the location of that phone. She jumps into the car and immediately heads toward her target.

#Anonymous

He’s in a feverish daze by the time Helena returns with the ice, half-dreaming of running away and out of her grasp. The coldness breaks his reverie, causing a sharp rush of pain to his damaged face.

Ow–

(Is she holding my hand?)

Lawrence may be ailing, but an obvious embarrassed blush shows on his cheeks. Now probably wouldn’t be the best time to bolt and head for the hills. If he was going to be killed, he might as well go to his death with a woman’s touch as his last memory. A small droplet of blood snakes its way down his chin, as if in response to her query.

A bit. Are…are you going to hurt me?

“Then keep pinching your nose and press the ice to it.”

Helena hands off the bag of ice to Lawrence and takes a seat next to him. She has a lot to explain to him, and it would probably be best to wait until he’s not bleeding before telling him about his situation.

“Of course, I’m not going to hurt you. Why would I?”

She throws him a pitiful look. Oh, that poor man is clearly confused and scared. Helena has no idea how he’ll react when she tells him that they’re in California in 2016!

Lawrence can only mumble out a small “yes” as he tries his hardest to stanch the blood flowing from his nose. A pair of strong arms helps him back to his feet and steers him toward a nearby bench; to his surprise, Helena is stronger than any woman he’s ever met.

(“I mustn’t let her see me cry…!”)

He falls onto the bench and does as he’s told after Helena departs, as if his life depended on her instructions. For all he knows, Helena could have him killed, and the bloody nose would have made him look a coward who lost to a woman instead of a brave solider who fought back. Lawrence nearly chokes on the thick liquid rushing down his throat and has no choice but to spit it out on the ground beside him.

“Ughh…” moans the solider as he rids his mouth of that awful metallic taste. He closes his eyes, still shivering from the chill as he keeps his head up and back, waiting for his persecutor to return with her reinforcements. Then it dawns on him in his feverish brain…he could run. And so Lawrence does, limping into the deeper woods, leaving a trail of blood spatter behind him.

Helena can only hope that Lawrence isn’t panicking or doing something stupid while she’s gone. She hurries to one of the food stands, flashes the owner a smile, and soon returns to the bench with a bag of ice.

“Here, Lawrence.”

The British author gently presses the ice against his nose, taking one of his hands to place on top of hers and hold the bag in place. She takes a seat next to Lawrence on the bench so that she can get a better look at his nose.

“Hold it to your face--it’ll reduce the swelling. Are you still bleeding?”

“Calm down” doesn’t seem to help the fearful soldier much at all, especially not since Helena is currently attempting to pry his musket from his hands. Lawrence doesn’t fire, however, as some part of his panicked thought process registers that she’s a woman (and a beauty at that), and that he was raised better than to hurt a lady.

‘Tis 1776–!

He manages to blurt out before wresting the musket away from Helena’s grasp. In classic Larry-esque style, however, the butt of the rifle hits him in the nose, which promptly starts gushing blood everywhere.

Waaaauughhhh!!!

Lawrence clutches his face with both hands, letting the deadly weapon drop from his hands. He curls up like a wounded animal, the poor thing, and squeezes his eyes tightly shut. Much like his alternate, Lawrence also has a weakness for blood, and he doesn’t exactly feel like passing out in front of someone who might kill him (and also happens to be extraordinarily good-looking: how embarrassing!).

#itsgottabethebutz #i had to google what to do when you're hit in the nose

That 1776 outburst seals the deal. Helena’s certain that he time traveled to the current day of 2016. No wonder he’s in such a panic and pegged her as the enemy after hearing her accent. When the poor soldier accidentally smacks himself in the face and starts bleeding, she rushes forward to help him.

“Are you alright?!”

The British agent wraps an arm around Lawrence, trying to support him toward the bench so that he can sit down (and calm down hopefully) instead of flailing around.

“Sit here and hold your nose. I’ll see if I can fetch some ice from the food stands.”

primaryassets

fuckyeahpikacha

#ALL WELL DUH I WANT TO GET INTO YOUR PANTS #WAS THAT NOT CLEAR BETWEEN THE FLYING AND THE CHOKING?

@interminatismiror

#bering and wells

Before Lawrence realizes what’s happening, the knife is easily knocked right out of his hand, clattering to the ground against the gnarled tree roots behind him. He gapes at his now-empty hand and then back at Helena.

“What–?”

Now without his musket or knife within convenient reach, Lawrence has few options. His commanding officer told the militia to never accept surrender, lest they be tortured by the redcoats. Was she really a spy for one of them? Would she string him up by the neck on the branches of the tree and kill him here?

“N-no, I…!” the young solider starts, but he trails off as he dives for his musket. If he’s going down, it won’t be without a fight. Once it’s back in his hands, he aims at Helena once again, though his hands are trembling quite badly.

“Calm down, Lawre--”

Helena keeps her eye on the soldier as he dives for his musket. Perhaps holding onto his weapon would help him feel more secure, but his current state of mind might cause him to fire. It would be safest to disarm him. She charges forward, careful to avoid the range of his musket in an attempt to wrestle him to the ground and grab that weapon out of his hands.

“This isn’t a battlefield. Look around, there aren’t any soldiers firing at you, now are there?”

The British agent takes a deep breath before continuing. The more she interacts with him, the more convinced she is that he time traveled to this place in time.

“Pardon my asking, but... what year do you think it is?”

“No, I…the tree caught fire from the lightning and…th-the storm! I’m drenched!”

He holds his arms out wide as moisture drips freely into puddles at his feet. He’s too far away from the lake to have fallen in.

“California…?”

Lawrence’s brown eyes widen, then go foggy. “No, that’s…that was just a dream. After I took that bullet…who are you?! Where am I?!”

The young man panics visibly and draws his knife…!

Helena stares quizzically at the young man. She had automatically assumed that he took a swim in Gourdy Lake. The storm that Lawrence kept prattling on about never happened after all.

“Lawrence, you’re alright... There is no stor--”

The British author catches a glint of steel just as Lawrence pulls his knife out. Sliding up to his right side, she immediately twists her body, striking his armed hand in an effort to knock the weapon away.

“We shall.”

Myka smiled brightly, taking Helena’s hand in her own. It felt wonderful to be back in her presence, to have her hand entwined with the authors. Following the woman out of the Warehouse and to her car, Myka’s smile only grew wider. This was what she had been hoping for for so long - that Helena would return. And finally she had. Climbing into the car, Myka shook her head.

“Of course not. Their food is incredible.”

“Righty-ho then! Incredible food and equally incredible company. I predict it’ll be an enjoyable night.”

Helena winked at Myka as she started up the engine, driving away from the B&B and to the Italian restaurant. The ride was a quick one; just 15 minutes before they were parking outside of “Al Dente.” Fortunately, it was still earlier, and the restaurant was fairly empty, offering the two women more privacy.

“Looks like we’ve beaten the dinner rush.”

“As have I.”

It had been far too long. So much had happened, so much was currently happening. Knowing that Helena was here to stay settled her mind a bit though. There was just something about Helena… Having her around made everything a little bit easier to deal with. Though, some part of her wondered how the rest of the team would feel knowing Helena was back. For now she pushed that to the back of her mind - this time was about them not the team.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“Shall we then?”

With a grin on her face, Helena extended a hand toward her partner before making her way out of the Warehouse. She could greet the other Warehouse agents after their meal. Surely, Pete, Claudia, Artie, and the others wouldn’t mind if she prioritized dinner with Myka over announcing her return. The British author unlocked her car and climbed into the driver’s seat, waiting for Myka to join her.

“Any objections to that Italian restaurant downtown, Myka?”

I…I, no, I’m afraid not. Other than my Sunday clothes, this is it.

He casts his gaze away from the stranger, suddenly embarrassed to be seen in his stained uniform; while his coat was normally a source of pride for him, it’s only natural that he should feel ashamed to be this dirty in front of a lovely lady.

The storm…where did it go? It came down like a second flood with thunder and lightning, and now it’s gone!

Lawrence shivers a bit. The summer heat wasn’t doing much to warm him up!

Where are we that torrential rains disappear in the blink of an eye?

“Why, I’m afraid I haven’t seen this storm! It’s been sunny all morning.”

This disappearing storm is just another clue that suggests Lawrence is not from this place nor this time. Helena’s curiosity gets the better of her (yes, she had “given up” time travel a while back), and she just needs to know if he has time traveled or not.

“We’re in California, Lawrence. Where... and when are you from?”

Send in a symbol for what sort of kiss yours would give mine

💏: kiss on the lips

💑: kiss on the cheek

💋: kiss that leaves a lipstick stain

😘: air kiss

👋: kiss on the hand

👀: butterfly kiss

🌰: a chocolate kiss

😗: no kiss

😚 + [description]

😙: what kiss my muse would give yours

#meme

Myka’s gaze dropped toward the ground as a small smile tugged at her lips. Helena’s words hit Myka like a ton of bricks. They were exactly the words she had needed to hear, but some part of Myka was still so wary of her. But Myka didn’t want to walk away again, they’d done enough of that. They’d had more than enough time apart.

“I’m glad you’ve finally accepted that you’re a part of this family...” There was a small pause before she returned her gaze to Helena. “I don’t need anymore time. We’ve had enough time.”

“Good. I’ve missed you far too much.”

Although Helena would have respected her partner’s wishes if she asked for more time to herself, she would have certainly been disappointed. Myka’s presence had played a large role in drawing her back to the Warehouse. In fact, she was the first person Helena sought out after reporting to the Reagents.

“Perhaps we could get some dinner and catch me up on recent Warehouse happenings?”

Myka nearly felt as though her heart would stop in her chest. Was Helena really about to hand over her locket? Her Christina? Did she really trust Myka that much. Did Helena trust herself that much?

“I- Helena…”

Her name was spoken quietly once more as Myka tried to comprehend what was happening. Was this even actually happening? For a moment she almost wondered if she was hallucinating this whole thing, or maybe she was dreaming.. Taking a leap of faith, she reached out and closed her hand around Helena’s which contained the locket. She was quiet at first, thinking of her own son and how it would feel if she had to part with the one thing she kept on her at all times as a reminder of him. She thought of how she’d feel if it was the only thing she had left of him.

“I would, of course I would… But you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t ask you to part with that. I lo- I trust you Helena. The fact that you would leave it in my hands in the first place proves that you’re serious.”

#interminatismiror #yes i did see that your myka has a son!!#i think that's a really interesting oc :D

Helena kept her eyes on Myka as she declined her offer, unable to stop the warm smile that crept onto her lips when her Warehouse partner almost told her that she loved her.

“Well, of course, I’m serious. I’ve come to learn that the Warehouse, the people in it, you...”

The British author took a deep breath, gently touching Myka’s extended hand. She hoped she finally convinced the Warehouse agent that, despite her past of returning and leaving, she was here to stay this time.

“This is my family, Myka. I wouldn’t part with it--just like I wouldn’t leave Christina behind.”

Hel…ena…?

He gasps the name through his ragged breaths. That was a pretty name. Surely someone this beautiful would be kindhearted; at least, that was always the case in old stories. Lawrence attempts to calm himself, though flashes of the battles past still linger in his memory. Just in case she should prove false, the young man remembers the pocketknife hidden within his jacket.

I…I’m Lawrence.

A shudder follows his introduction. The poor thing might have taken a chill in the severe downpour earlier, and though the skies over Gourd Lake Park are warm and sunny, Lawrence is totally damp!

“Nice to meet you, Lawrence.”

Helena once again offers him a bright smile. Looking him over now, two things are running through her mind. One, this young man is going to catch a cold if he keeps standing there in that soaked uniform. Two, why is he wearing a soldier uniform that reminded her of the revolutionary era? Her mind immediately jumps to time travel, which has always been an obsession of hers.

“You’d better dry off before you catch a cold, dear. Do you have any clothes to change into?”

“Helena…”

Her name was barely a breath out of Myka’s mouth. It felt as though her literal soul was aching. Each time Helena left she took a piece of Myka with her. Every time they parted ways Myka had felt an emptiness within her. The idea of allowing that emptiness to be filled - to make herself vulnerable again - terrified her. Really, how was she supposed to believe that Helena wouldn’t leave again.

“What would you like me to hold onto - in theory. I’m not saying yes, yet.”

“You’d...”

Helena took a deep breath. This item was quite important and dear to her. It was something that she’d never leave behind. If she had the heart to part from it (though she wouldn’t really be parting from it), then it may be enough to convince her partner that she was here to stay.

“You’d keep this safe... wouldn’t you?”

She unlocked the clasp, tightly clutching her locket in her hand.