Fic: Maiden Voyage
Jan. 23rd, 2011 12:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
windemereDisclaimer: This is some else’s universe and I am just playing in the sandbox. Something has to make up for the lack of Stargate!
AN: I actually meant to write this story first and then my brain wanted to make it into something more complicated. This time I refused.
It has been three years since the Adam Worth affair. Three long years where Helen has led a life half consumed by guilt and entirely consumed by wondering what might have been had things gone differently. Helen is ashamed to admit that King Edward’s grace has been of immense help in seeing her through the guilt.
With the new money flowing in without inquiry or consequence, despite the budgetary problems plaguing the rest of the country, Helen is kept busy. There is a new wing to add to the Sanctuary; new staff to hire and train and new connections to be made in an ever growing network that now spans Europe, Asia and the edges of the Americas. There is more than enough money that Helen is left with no concerns of the future of her work, especially after the transition to King George causes no interruptions in funds. James seems mildly happier as well with the incoming revenue and the allowance it leaves to pursue his projects in peace.
They had talked more than once in the years before the affair of expanding the Sanctuary to other countries. There are now dozens of Abnormals housed within London’s walls and despite the new expansion, Helen is beginning to concede that they are simply running out of space. James has more than once suggested a house in Europe, perhaps in the east or south and with the money now flowing in Helen begins to consider the idea in more detail. There are certainly problems to think about and there is the matter of finding someone – anyone – to run a new Sanctuary. She and James have a particularly loud conversation one night over whether it might fall to one of them to head a new house. Helen ends the discussion abruptly by announcing that when it becomes a real issue she’ll be very happy indeed to turn London over to James and strike off on her own. She feels it’s about time.
That rather shuts her old friend up, at least momentarily.
But the matter has come up again and Helen has now turned her sights to America. There have been more Abnormals than ever appearing in the New World and a Sanctuary there, perhaps in New York would certainly be of use. There is the matter of the United States Government to consider, but as long as the money continues from the British Crown, they might manage a house in New York for years before the Presidency ever needs to be made aware of what is going on under its nose.
They begin to make plans, though James has yet to concede to her decision to leave, as if he truly has any say in the matter. Once Helen Magnus has made up her mind there is no stopping her, as he is well aware.
It is an Abnormal that puts an end to the discussion. Helen receives word from a contact in Virginia of an Abnormal with a description unlike anything they have ever encountered. A creature that seems to be a cross between a cat-like mammal and a far more deadly reptilian being. It has been causing rather a lot of havoc in populated areas and Helen’s contacts in the region have been unsuccessful in capturing it.
Helen announces to James the next evening that she’ll be leaving for America on the next ship, which she has already booked passage on. It will be the maiden voyage of the new ship Titanic, though Helen has very little interest in the mode of transportation. It is simply a boat that will take her to where she needs to go.
James sighs heavily. ‘If you are resolved in this, Helen, I am hardly going to stop you.’
‘Excellent,’ Helen announces and makes her way to her rooms to begin packing. She has a week before the ship is to sail; indeed she managed one of the last cabins available, thanks to the generous funds flowing from the Crown’s pockets. There is not a moment to lose in the packing.
James accompanies her by carriage to Southhampton, and makes no further attempt to dissuade her from her decision until they are standing on the pier in the waiting line of first class passengers boarding.
‘I should be the one to go,’ he comments casually as the line quickly moves forward. The port around them is jammed full with people; mostly those come to see the ship embark.
‘And how do you figure that?’ Helen inquires politely as she finds the paperwork for her ticket.
‘Well I –’ James starts, only to realise that she knows exactly what he is about to say and is not at all interested in hearing that, as a man, it should be his job to do this.
‘A pleasant voyage to you, then,’ he admits with defeat. ‘Take all care possible with this new species,’ he adds in a further whisper. ‘And do write.’
‘I shall take all those things under advisement she says, as she hands her ticket to the waiting officer. He inspects the papers, hands them back and gestures for a cabin boy to come and take the luggage James is carrying for her. Considering she is moving across the ocean, the luggage is pitifully few. ‘Welcome aboard Ms. Magnus,’ the officer says.
‘Goodbye then, James,’ Helen turns back to her friend.
James waves, already being pushed aside by other waiting passengers. Helens takes a deep breath and follows the cabin boy into the lush interior of the ship.
Four days later, when she is hauled from the water by Molly Brown in the early hours of the morning, her entire body frozen from the brief minutes in the icy depths after the ship goes under. Molly Brown does not comment on why one of the first class women was left to drown in the ocean rather than offered a place on a lifeboat. Helen does not comment on the fact that until the deck slipped out from under her feet she was trying desperately to save two children, their parents already dead, from steerage and failed. It is another guilt she will have to live with.
It is the next day when word reaches London. James reads the morning Times over his usual cup of tea, his face paling in horror at the headline. He skims the much too short article which offers no comfort. So many lives lost. Mostly women and children have survived. James can only imagine the horror of the night from the scant details in the article. And he knows Helen well enough that he can guess exactly what she would have been doing and that worries him more than he can logically analyze.
He abandons his tea, racing from the Sanctuary so fast the other staff are left staring at him in fright. The telegraph office; still a new fangled invention so far as James is concerned, is thankfully only three blocks away. It is already crowded with people clamouring for news. There will be no getting through that way. But he is James Watson and even if technology is a thing he shuns more often than not, one does not spend nearly thirty years as a friend of Nikola Tesla without learning a few things. He has not heard from Nikola in weeks, however and he can only hope the man is still in London.
He is more surprised than he can say to find Nikola waiting at the small townhouse the man has been renting since the Worth affair began. ‘I have already heard,’ he preambles the words before they are out of James’ mouth. ‘I’ve already contacted my contacts at the radio station outside London with the express instructions to bombard every station in New York that they can until a list of survivors is released. We’ll find her James, I promise.’
James sighs in a measure of relief. He might have known that Tesla would be ahead of him. The two men spend a tense day waiting for word to arrive. In the evening a messenger knocks on the door with a written note. It is short and to the point and not what either man has been hoping for.
SURVIVOR LIST TO BE RELEASED TOMORROW. ALL NAMES INCLUDED.
Nikola doesn’t need to sleep and James cannot seem to sit still for more than five minutes. He has only Tesla’s considerable stock of alcohol to rely on for comfort, but even that isn’t enough to calm him down to slumber. James announces at dawn that they’ll go to the station themselves, to receive word as soon as it comes in.
Radio transmission is still new enough in the world that few people have come to the station seeking word when the men arrive. It has taken a good hour by carriage and James can only hope that that has been enough time. But he has forgotten the time difference. It is still dark on the east coast of America. Tesla talks with the men at the station in quiet tones as James resumes pacing; chafing at the hours that tick by, not knowing what is happening half a world away.
Finally, the radio balks to life with the sound of Morse Code. James has not yet learned the new language, though he vows to do so immediately. Tesla is listening intently, looking over the shoulder of the operator recording the message.
The tension goes from his body so quickly James mistakes it for sudden grief. ‘Tesla what has—’ but he is cut off.
‘Helen’s name is on the list, James. She’s alive.’ His knees nearly buckle under him. Tesla draws a chair forward and James sits gratefully into it, completely ignoring the other people in the station clamouring to hear about their own loved ones. None of it matters to him; she’s alive.
‘We quarrelled,’ James whispers and if Nikola didn’t have the hearing of a vampire the comment would have gone unnoticed in the hubbub.
James continues, not caring either way. ‘Before she left. We quarrelled on the pier at Southampton. I told her she shouldn’t be the one to go because she was a woman.’
Nikola laughs without humour. ‘I can imagine how well that went. She’s alive, James, and you can apologise to her later.’
‘Yes,’ James admits. He’ll do exactly that. In fact, he will head home this very minute and write her a letter. He knows her contacts in Virginia. Hopefully the letter will find her before she has moved on.
On the other side of the Atlantic, Helen has no thought to spare for James. The ship’s arrival in New York is not what Helen had planned. Still, after the survivors are examined by doctors, their names taken and lists drawn up, not to mention statement after statement to the media hounding the shore, she is able to contact her people. Within two days she is in Virginia on the hunt of the Abnormal, the horror of her near watery grave cast aside, if not forgotten. Still, the ending to the trip has put a damper on her grand plans to begin another Sanctuary. She says as much in her letter to James days later, who she knows will simply be glad to know she is well. She supposed word has reached England of the survivors, but a name on a list will not calm him; she knows him too well for that. His response, if there is one, does not reach her before May when she takes ship back to Britain, accompanied by a large crate carrying something she would prefer the ship’s staff remain unaware of.
Still, Helen has left behind the beginnings in New York. Her contacts there will start to put things together and hopefully, in a few more years, she will be able to return find a small Sanctuary in development. Hopefully it will be the first of many in America.
AN: I actually meant to write this story first and then my brain wanted to make it into something more complicated. This time I refused.
It has been three years since the Adam Worth affair. Three long years where Helen has led a life half consumed by guilt and entirely consumed by wondering what might have been had things gone differently. Helen is ashamed to admit that King Edward’s grace has been of immense help in seeing her through the guilt.
With the new money flowing in without inquiry or consequence, despite the budgetary problems plaguing the rest of the country, Helen is kept busy. There is a new wing to add to the Sanctuary; new staff to hire and train and new connections to be made in an ever growing network that now spans Europe, Asia and the edges of the Americas. There is more than enough money that Helen is left with no concerns of the future of her work, especially after the transition to King George causes no interruptions in funds. James seems mildly happier as well with the incoming revenue and the allowance it leaves to pursue his projects in peace.
They had talked more than once in the years before the affair of expanding the Sanctuary to other countries. There are now dozens of Abnormals housed within London’s walls and despite the new expansion, Helen is beginning to concede that they are simply running out of space. James has more than once suggested a house in Europe, perhaps in the east or south and with the money now flowing in Helen begins to consider the idea in more detail. There are certainly problems to think about and there is the matter of finding someone – anyone – to run a new Sanctuary. She and James have a particularly loud conversation one night over whether it might fall to one of them to head a new house. Helen ends the discussion abruptly by announcing that when it becomes a real issue she’ll be very happy indeed to turn London over to James and strike off on her own. She feels it’s about time.
That rather shuts her old friend up, at least momentarily.
But the matter has come up again and Helen has now turned her sights to America. There have been more Abnormals than ever appearing in the New World and a Sanctuary there, perhaps in New York would certainly be of use. There is the matter of the United States Government to consider, but as long as the money continues from the British Crown, they might manage a house in New York for years before the Presidency ever needs to be made aware of what is going on under its nose.
They begin to make plans, though James has yet to concede to her decision to leave, as if he truly has any say in the matter. Once Helen Magnus has made up her mind there is no stopping her, as he is well aware.
It is an Abnormal that puts an end to the discussion. Helen receives word from a contact in Virginia of an Abnormal with a description unlike anything they have ever encountered. A creature that seems to be a cross between a cat-like mammal and a far more deadly reptilian being. It has been causing rather a lot of havoc in populated areas and Helen’s contacts in the region have been unsuccessful in capturing it.
Helen announces to James the next evening that she’ll be leaving for America on the next ship, which she has already booked passage on. It will be the maiden voyage of the new ship Titanic, though Helen has very little interest in the mode of transportation. It is simply a boat that will take her to where she needs to go.
James sighs heavily. ‘If you are resolved in this, Helen, I am hardly going to stop you.’
‘Excellent,’ Helen announces and makes her way to her rooms to begin packing. She has a week before the ship is to sail; indeed she managed one of the last cabins available, thanks to the generous funds flowing from the Crown’s pockets. There is not a moment to lose in the packing.
James accompanies her by carriage to Southhampton, and makes no further attempt to dissuade her from her decision until they are standing on the pier in the waiting line of first class passengers boarding.
‘I should be the one to go,’ he comments casually as the line quickly moves forward. The port around them is jammed full with people; mostly those come to see the ship embark.
‘And how do you figure that?’ Helen inquires politely as she finds the paperwork for her ticket.
‘Well I –’ James starts, only to realise that she knows exactly what he is about to say and is not at all interested in hearing that, as a man, it should be his job to do this.
‘A pleasant voyage to you, then,’ he admits with defeat. ‘Take all care possible with this new species,’ he adds in a further whisper. ‘And do write.’
‘I shall take all those things under advisement she says, as she hands her ticket to the waiting officer. He inspects the papers, hands them back and gestures for a cabin boy to come and take the luggage James is carrying for her. Considering she is moving across the ocean, the luggage is pitifully few. ‘Welcome aboard Ms. Magnus,’ the officer says.
‘Goodbye then, James,’ Helen turns back to her friend.
James waves, already being pushed aside by other waiting passengers. Helens takes a deep breath and follows the cabin boy into the lush interior of the ship.
Four days later, when she is hauled from the water by Molly Brown in the early hours of the morning, her entire body frozen from the brief minutes in the icy depths after the ship goes under. Molly Brown does not comment on why one of the first class women was left to drown in the ocean rather than offered a place on a lifeboat. Helen does not comment on the fact that until the deck slipped out from under her feet she was trying desperately to save two children, their parents already dead, from steerage and failed. It is another guilt she will have to live with.
It is the next day when word reaches London. James reads the morning Times over his usual cup of tea, his face paling in horror at the headline. He skims the much too short article which offers no comfort. So many lives lost. Mostly women and children have survived. James can only imagine the horror of the night from the scant details in the article. And he knows Helen well enough that he can guess exactly what she would have been doing and that worries him more than he can logically analyze.
He abandons his tea, racing from the Sanctuary so fast the other staff are left staring at him in fright. The telegraph office; still a new fangled invention so far as James is concerned, is thankfully only three blocks away. It is already crowded with people clamouring for news. There will be no getting through that way. But he is James Watson and even if technology is a thing he shuns more often than not, one does not spend nearly thirty years as a friend of Nikola Tesla without learning a few things. He has not heard from Nikola in weeks, however and he can only hope the man is still in London.
He is more surprised than he can say to find Nikola waiting at the small townhouse the man has been renting since the Worth affair began. ‘I have already heard,’ he preambles the words before they are out of James’ mouth. ‘I’ve already contacted my contacts at the radio station outside London with the express instructions to bombard every station in New York that they can until a list of survivors is released. We’ll find her James, I promise.’
James sighs in a measure of relief. He might have known that Tesla would be ahead of him. The two men spend a tense day waiting for word to arrive. In the evening a messenger knocks on the door with a written note. It is short and to the point and not what either man has been hoping for.
SURVIVOR LIST TO BE RELEASED TOMORROW. ALL NAMES INCLUDED.
Nikola doesn’t need to sleep and James cannot seem to sit still for more than five minutes. He has only Tesla’s considerable stock of alcohol to rely on for comfort, but even that isn’t enough to calm him down to slumber. James announces at dawn that they’ll go to the station themselves, to receive word as soon as it comes in.
Radio transmission is still new enough in the world that few people have come to the station seeking word when the men arrive. It has taken a good hour by carriage and James can only hope that that has been enough time. But he has forgotten the time difference. It is still dark on the east coast of America. Tesla talks with the men at the station in quiet tones as James resumes pacing; chafing at the hours that tick by, not knowing what is happening half a world away.
Finally, the radio balks to life with the sound of Morse Code. James has not yet learned the new language, though he vows to do so immediately. Tesla is listening intently, looking over the shoulder of the operator recording the message.
The tension goes from his body so quickly James mistakes it for sudden grief. ‘Tesla what has—’ but he is cut off.
‘Helen’s name is on the list, James. She’s alive.’ His knees nearly buckle under him. Tesla draws a chair forward and James sits gratefully into it, completely ignoring the other people in the station clamouring to hear about their own loved ones. None of it matters to him; she’s alive.
‘We quarrelled,’ James whispers and if Nikola didn’t have the hearing of a vampire the comment would have gone unnoticed in the hubbub.
James continues, not caring either way. ‘Before she left. We quarrelled on the pier at Southampton. I told her she shouldn’t be the one to go because she was a woman.’
Nikola laughs without humour. ‘I can imagine how well that went. She’s alive, James, and you can apologise to her later.’
‘Yes,’ James admits. He’ll do exactly that. In fact, he will head home this very minute and write her a letter. He knows her contacts in Virginia. Hopefully the letter will find her before she has moved on.
On the other side of the Atlantic, Helen has no thought to spare for James. The ship’s arrival in New York is not what Helen had planned. Still, after the survivors are examined by doctors, their names taken and lists drawn up, not to mention statement after statement to the media hounding the shore, she is able to contact her people. Within two days she is in Virginia on the hunt of the Abnormal, the horror of her near watery grave cast aside, if not forgotten. Still, the ending to the trip has put a damper on her grand plans to begin another Sanctuary. She says as much in her letter to James days later, who she knows will simply be glad to know she is well. She supposed word has reached England of the survivors, but a name on a list will not calm him; she knows him too well for that. His response, if there is one, does not reach her before May when she takes ship back to Britain, accompanied by a large crate carrying something she would prefer the ship’s staff remain unaware of.
Still, Helen has left behind the beginnings in New York. Her contacts there will start to put things together and hopefully, in a few more years, she will be able to return find a small Sanctuary in development. Hopefully it will be the first of many in America.
