Helena Wells (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timelessinventor) wrote2013-09-30 08:33 pm
timelessinventor) wrote2013-09-30 08:33 pm
Entry tags:
Late September 2012: Wells Sector
It had been a little over a week since she got back from San Francisco, and as much as she wanted to, she'd been avoiding going through the trunk that Joshua told her about in her Sector.
The next weekend, everyone was out doing various things, and Leena was still working in the Ovoid unpacking Warehouse 2. Helena decided that she had to bite the bullet and just unpack the trunk while no one was around to bother her.
When she got down to the area, before she even got to the trunk, she noticed that no one had put the crate back around the time machine, and there was a suspiciously un-dusty part where the inner workings were. Filing that away in her mind, Helena found what she was looking for.
For being such an important container, the trunk itself seemed quite benign. She knelt and opened it, gently taking a few things out. First, out came a few random things, a roller skate, a pile of irrelevant papers about the move to America, and a map of the Great Lakes. Underneath the map, as she found a porcelain doll. Gingerly, she took the doll out of the trunk, and brushed a bit of dust off of its skirt, clinging to it gently.
"Mummy misses you, Christina. Mummy misses you so much."
It was a long time before she pulled herself together enough to put the doll aside, brush away her tears and look back into the trunk. On top of two dresses, one moth-eaten, the other still quite serviceable, there was a letter in a simple envelope.
Opening the letter, Helena's breath caught. Wooley. Her old partner, the man she was absolutely certain she had killed in her quest to get back Christina. It was as if he was there, patting her on the shoulder with that irritatingly smug smirk of his, and reading to her.
Dear Helena,
I hope this letter finds you well, whenever it does find you. I have every confidence you won’t remain bronzed indefinitely, seeing as you did nothing to deserve it in the first place (and, might I add, She’s not very happy at all that you’re making the move to America as a statue). One way or another, I suspect I’ll be dead by that time, though, and I have a few things to tell you.
If I know you at all, you have yet to forgive yourself for what happened. Take this letter as proof that it didn’t transpire the way you think it did; experimentation in time travel, it seems, is just as likely to throw one forward at random as it is to kill one. The next thing I knew, it was 1905 and you... well, you know your bit of this story better than anyone.
I forgave you a long time ago, Helena. Your grief was as strong as any Artifact, and I’d wager it still is. You haven’t been yourself since Christina’s death; I doubt however long it’s been for you has done anything to help. I hope you find someone or something that can help you to heal, if you haven’t already. When you love, you love with all of your being; as close as that may have come to destroying you, it’s also what makes you truly blossom. I never saw you as happy as you were when you talked about Christina, even afterward.
I’ve put together what of your things I could find around the Warehouse. Charles is refusing to cede the personal effects of yours that are still in his house, and I doubt we’ll be able to get through to him before he dies; do be sure to check the bronze sector’s personal storage. I know he has one of your lockets, at the very least.
Do take care of yourself (and, should the right candidate or candidates present themselves, let them help, for God’s sake). I hope to see you in the flesh once more, but if I do not, know that I don’t blame you.
All my love,
David
The tears came back, but this time, tears of relief, of a century of guilt flooding off of her. She picked up the doll again, and clung to it, shaking, this time with relief and just a bit of happiness.
Standing, she took the dress, the doll, and a few more photos that she found in the bottom of the trunk, and left the area barely missing tripping over a green blur that scuttled across her shoes.
As emotional of a day as it was, there was finally a tiny bright light through all of the grief, a thought that that she might not have been as bad as she originally thought.
[ooc: Wooley's letter thanks tominkhollow.]
The next weekend, everyone was out doing various things, and Leena was still working in the Ovoid unpacking Warehouse 2. Helena decided that she had to bite the bullet and just unpack the trunk while no one was around to bother her.
When she got down to the area, before she even got to the trunk, she noticed that no one had put the crate back around the time machine, and there was a suspiciously un-dusty part where the inner workings were. Filing that away in her mind, Helena found what she was looking for.
For being such an important container, the trunk itself seemed quite benign. She knelt and opened it, gently taking a few things out. First, out came a few random things, a roller skate, a pile of irrelevant papers about the move to America, and a map of the Great Lakes. Underneath the map, as she found a porcelain doll. Gingerly, she took the doll out of the trunk, and brushed a bit of dust off of its skirt, clinging to it gently.
"Mummy misses you, Christina. Mummy misses you so much."
It was a long time before she pulled herself together enough to put the doll aside, brush away her tears and look back into the trunk. On top of two dresses, one moth-eaten, the other still quite serviceable, there was a letter in a simple envelope.
Opening the letter, Helena's breath caught. Wooley. Her old partner, the man she was absolutely certain she had killed in her quest to get back Christina. It was as if he was there, patting her on the shoulder with that irritatingly smug smirk of his, and reading to her.
Dear Helena,
I hope this letter finds you well, whenever it does find you. I have every confidence you won’t remain bronzed indefinitely, seeing as you did nothing to deserve it in the first place (and, might I add, She’s not very happy at all that you’re making the move to America as a statue). One way or another, I suspect I’ll be dead by that time, though, and I have a few things to tell you.
If I know you at all, you have yet to forgive yourself for what happened. Take this letter as proof that it didn’t transpire the way you think it did; experimentation in time travel, it seems, is just as likely to throw one forward at random as it is to kill one. The next thing I knew, it was 1905 and you... well, you know your bit of this story better than anyone.
I forgave you a long time ago, Helena. Your grief was as strong as any Artifact, and I’d wager it still is. You haven’t been yourself since Christina’s death; I doubt however long it’s been for you has done anything to help. I hope you find someone or something that can help you to heal, if you haven’t already. When you love, you love with all of your being; as close as that may have come to destroying you, it’s also what makes you truly blossom. I never saw you as happy as you were when you talked about Christina, even afterward.
I’ve put together what of your things I could find around the Warehouse. Charles is refusing to cede the personal effects of yours that are still in his house, and I doubt we’ll be able to get through to him before he dies; do be sure to check the bronze sector’s personal storage. I know he has one of your lockets, at the very least.
Do take care of yourself (and, should the right candidate or candidates present themselves, let them help, for God’s sake). I hope to see you in the flesh once more, but if I do not, know that I don’t blame you.
All my love,
David
The tears came back, but this time, tears of relief, of a century of guilt flooding off of her. She picked up the doll again, and clung to it, shaking, this time with relief and just a bit of happiness.
Standing, she took the dress, the doll, and a few more photos that she found in the bottom of the trunk, and left the area barely missing tripping over a green blur that scuttled across her shoes.
As emotional of a day as it was, there was finally a tiny bright light through all of the grief, a thought that that she might not have been as bad as she originally thought.
[ooc: Wooley's letter thanks to
minkhollow.]