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Myfanwy 2

February 2018



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Myfanwy 2

A Mother's Life - Chapter Eight

A Mother's Life - Chapter Eight
Author: Milady Dragon
Series: Dragon-Verse
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Anwyn Harkness-Jones/Gwaine, Phil Coulson/Clint Barton, Arthur/Merlin, Rowena Harkess-Jones/Henry Morgan, Other Pairings
Warnings: Fluff, a little Angst, Reincarnation, Lots of Timey Wimey.
Spoilers:  Small ones for Doctor Who and for Warehouse 13.
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, I would have treated it better.
Author's Note: This is the third story of the Samara Wells trilogy.  It does a little skip in time, taking place immediately after the events of "Lost and Found"

Summary:  Someone arrives in Samara's life that turns it upside down, and makes her a part of history she never knew she would be.


1 June 1891 (Old Earth Date)

London, England


“We know about the Warehouse,” she began. 

Helena didn’t seem to react, but Samara thought her eyes had hardened just a bit.  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“Look, we’re not after any sorts of secrets,” Samara assured her.  “But we do need your help to retrieve something from the Warehouse.  Two somethings, actually, that need to go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Helena said, “but I can’t help you.”  She put her cup down, and made to stand.

“We wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important,” Rhys cut in hurriedly.  “We’re talking about two innocent lives here.”

That seemed to get Helena’s attention once more, but then Samara had known it would, as had Rhys when he’d said it.  The Warehouse agent settled back into his chair.  “Tell me, and if I don’t like what you say I shall leave, and the pair of you won’t leave this city again.”

Samara wasn’t too concerned about the threat.  River was standing by, and they would be able to use her wrist strap to get back to their own time even if they failed.  Still, it sounded very ominous, and Samara couldn’t help but react to it.

Helena caught her reaction, and her smile went sharp. 

Samara felt something touch her hand; she looked down, and Rhys’ fingers were so close to hers she could feel the heat of them.  He hadn’t actually touched them; to do that here would have been a scandal in this time and place.  But their closeness settled her nerves, and she took a deep breath.

Helena’s eyes hadn’t missed Rhys’ almost-touch.  But she didn’t react to it. 

“What we’re after are two dragons’ eggs,” Samara said. 

Helena leaned back in her chair, looking relaxed yet was anything but.  “And what makes you think we have such a thing?”

“We have it on good authority that the Warehouse has a pair of dragons’ eggs in their inventory.”

“And if we do, what do you want with them?”

Helena’s dark eyes were boring into Samara’s, but this time she wasn’t feeling at all intimidated.  She was on a mission to save two lives, and nothing was going to keep her from doing the very best job she could.  “We want to take them home, to their parents.”

“You expect me to believe that?”  Helena scoffed.

“Believe what you want,” Samara shrugged.  “But I’m telling you, if we don’t get them back in a certain amount of time, those children will die.”

The woman next to her stiffened visibly, her first major tell.  Samara knew she’d hit a nerve with that. 

“I don’t see why I should trust you.  You could be simply wanting to get curiosities to use for your own benefit.  It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Well, that hadn’t worked as well as Samara had hoped.  Well, she had one more card to play, and she wasn’t afraid to play it.

Rhys gave her another, supporting nod.  He was with her in this, whatever she decided to do.  They’d discussed it before travelling back into the past, only Samara had wanted to be able to convince her without bringing out their proverbial big gun.

Samara put her hand into her jacket pocket, and pulled out her trump.

The tarnished locket gleamed in the weak sunlight that streamed in through the soot-stained window.

Helena paled, her hand darting toward her throat, where the matching locket was resting.  Her eyes were shocked as she stared at Samara, and her mouth moved, but nothing came out. 

She leaned forward, meeting Helena’s gaze, willing every shred of conviction she had in that she was doing the right thing to show in her eyes.  “We’re from the future,” she murmured.  “That locket has been passed down in my family for generations.  My birth name is Samara Christina Wells.  I was born on a planet light years from here.  I am a scientist, a marine biologist.  I lived most of my life on Maker’s World, in a place that will be called the Boeshane Peninsula, circling a star that hasn’t been discovered yet.  I had two sons, but one of them is…gone.” She swallowed, wondering if Gray would ever be healed enough to leave the Lost Lands.  “The other is one of the bravest men I have had the honour to meet.  He is the mate to the Last Dragon, and those two little children need to be raised with a loving family who will be there for them, no matter what.  Please, will you help us?”

Samara didn’t want to show just how scared she was that she’d just bared her soul and it wouldn’t work, so she sat, and waited, knowing that her words had to convince the woman sitting next to her, knowing that the fate of two children were resting with an ancestor she could never be completely honest with. 

There was something else she wanted to tell Helena, but she didn’t dare.

She couldn’t change history.  What was going to happen next month would taint Helena for the rest of her life, and Samara couldn’t warn her. 

That was the worst thing about travelling into the past: knowing what was going to happen that was so horrible and yet nothing could be done to stop it.

It was like knowing that River was actually dead in the past, and that she’d lost her chance to mend fences with her son.  Samara couldn’t say a thing to her about it.

“You…”  Helena was obviously gobsmacked at Samara’s long line of confessions.  She shook her head somewhat violently, as if it would help in clearing her mind of the information Samara had just dumped onto her.

Samara had no idea what they were going to do if this didn’t work.  River had claimed that she’d made every attempt to break into the Warehouse to retrieve the eggs, but the security was something she’d been unable to get past.  Most likely magical, and despite having a sorcerer for a son River herself didn’t have a shred of magic in her.  And Samara doubted she’d have trusted any other magic user well enough to put the futures of two innocents into their hands.

It really would have been the perfect sort of adventure for River to have taken her son on, and yet she hadn’t.  She’d come to them, thinking that Samara would be convincing enough.

She’d suspected that River had known that Samara had been there, in Ddraig Llyn, which was why she’d chosen that particular time to visit.  Her thoughts had brought her confirmation, of a sort. 

She held Rhys’ opinion about time travel, honestly.

Helena seemed to come to some sort of decision.  She sat up straight, taking a sip of her cooling tea.  She made a face at it, and then set the cup back down.  “Alright, let’s say I believe you.”

“She’s not lying,” Rhys retorted, a fine edge of outrage in his voice.  Samara felt a warmth flare in her chest at his defending her word to this stranger.

Helena’s eyebrows went up in surprise.  “You two certainly are a strange pair.”

That had Rhys laughing.  “Well, that’s certainly not the worst thing anyone’s ever said about me.  Not so sure about Samara, though.”

Samara rolled her eyes.  “Please.  I was a biologist born into a family of adventurous adrenaline junkies.  Haven’t you ever wondered where Jack got it from?”

“Yeah, but you ended up on a colony world that was under constant threat of raiding.  I’d say Jack got it from you just as honestly as from your own Mam and Tad.”

Alright, Samara couldn’t argue with that observation.

“And just where did you get your adventurous proclivities then?” she challenged, taking the opening for the chance to get to know her companion just a little better, not caring that her distant ancestor was sitting with them, watching them as they bantered, gathering information from their actions in order to make the best decision possible.

Rhys laughed.  “My great-grandfather saved this bloody planet from a tear in the fabric of space and time.  That sort of thing is bound to make a difference to a person’s upbringing.”

“You’re going to tell me all about that, as soon as we get home.”

“And just how are you gonna convince me to do that?” he teased. 

Samara felt something hot and sharp in her chest; something she hadn’t felt since Franklin.  It had only been a couple of days…but was she actually falling for this man?

She shook off that train of thought, instead leaning across the table, hoping that the expression on her face was the playful smirk she was aiming for.  “I’m sure I can come up with something,” she purred.

She had the pleasure of seeing Rhys blush.  “It’s gotta be something in the water in in the 51st century, woman, that makes you all like that.  I worked with Himself for years and he could still manage to shock me, so I shouldn’t be surprised that his Mam is the same.”

Samara laughed so hard she almost faceplanted into her tea, and she was aware that quite a few of the patrons were staring. 

She didn’t care.  They weren’t going to be in this time long enough that it made a difference that people thought she was making some sort of spectacle of herself.

“So,” Helena put in, “you’re from the 51st century?” Her dark eyes were gleaming with excitement.  She was evidently curious in knowing more, and Samara wasn’t exactly sure she should tell her ancestor all that much.  The last thing she wanted to know was damage the timelines by saying the wrong thing.

Still, her saying what year she and Rhys were from wouldn’t hurt.  “Actually, it’s the 52nd century now.  It’s Earth Standard Date 5119, to be more precise.  Earth has expanded out amongst the stars, and has worlds in twelve galaxies.”

“But how do you travel between the stars?” Helena was leaning forward, her previous surprise and confusion forgotten as the scientist that Samara knew she’d been came to the fore.  “Surely the distances would be far too immense for any sort of connectedness between worlds – “

Then her words stopped, and she looked sheepish.  “And you can’t tell me, because of future knowledge.”

“Afraid not,” Rhys answered.  “But it’s bloody amazing.”

“The future must be different, if such curses are so easily accepted.”

Rhys frowned, and then he laughed.  “Oh yeah, I forgot people didn’t say that sort of thing in this time.  Sorry if I offended.”

“No offence taken,” Helena assured him.  She shook her head.  “Alright, you two have sold me on the notion that you’re both from the future, just from the way you’re obviously comfortable talking about it.  But how do I know you’re being honest about those eggs?  Surely they aren’t viable any longer.  According to what we’ve been able to discover about them, they’ve existed for about fifteen hundred years.”

Samara felt the blood drain a little from her face.  From what she’d gleaned from Ianto’s talking about just what actual dragon eggs were, it certainly was coming up on the limit of the magic that would have been protecting the children. 

“Dragon eggs can protect their precious cargoes for up to two thousand years,” Rhys answered solemnly.  “So, yeah…we need to get those eggs back and opened soon, or else it’ll be too late.”

“There’s something else,” Helena went on.  “Every artefact brought into the Warehouse is dosed in a neutraliser that does just that: neutralises its magical power.  Those eggs would have gone through the same process.  I cannot guarantee they’ll be…undamaged.”

That didn’t sound good at all. Could whatever Warehouse agent who found the eggs have inadvertently killed the babies within them?  Samara didn’t want to think that, but it was a possibility.

Her eyes met Rhys’, and she could see how upset he was at the thought that those children would never be born once more.  Then his face turned determined, and he looked back at Helena.  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.  “If those poor wee children were killed, then they deserve to be buried with their own people.  There are ceremonies for that sort of thing, and they should be laid to rest in the proper way, and not rot in their shells.  The parents who wanted to protect them that way would want that.”  He then rubbed his eyes tiredly.  “Goddess, I hope they aren’t gone already.  That would just about kill both Jack and Ianto…”

Samara couldn’t help but nod at that sentiment.  Her boys loved each and every child they’d raised, both natural and adopted, and to lose two before they even had a chance to live would hurt them so very badly, and the eighty-five that River had managed to save would only just make up for that loss. 

Still, Rhys was right.  If those babies were truly gone, then leaving them in the Warehouse was exactly the wrong thing to do.

She reached over and touched Helena’s wrist, just below the cuff of her coat.  “Please,” she begged.  “Let us take those babies home.  They don’t deserve to be in your Warehouse, just a couple of curiosities gathering dust, to be forgotten and unmourned.  They need a family… and if that’s not possible, then a place to rest.”

Samara knew the moment that Helena Wells was finally swayed.  Her dark eyes darted once more to the ancient locket on the tabletop, and then back up to Samara’s.  “Alright.  I’ll do it.  Meet me in the alley behind the café at midnight tonight.  Don’t be late.”

Relief slammed through Samara like a tsunami.  Tears gathered in her eyes, and she wasn’t ashamed who saw them.  “Thank you so much,” she whispered. 

“Looks like you get to be a Gran…again,” Rhys commented, his own happiness evident in his grin.  “Dead sexy Gran, if you ask me.”

Samara rolled her eyes.  “Rhys Williams, you are bad.”  Still, she was pleased by the compliment.  “You’d better not say that sort of thing around Jack, he doesn’t take the fact that you’re flirting with his mother all that well, despite his comments to the contrary.”

“Totally worth it.”

That set Helena to laughing.  “Something tells me I’d love the future.”

Samara had done a bit of studying up on her ancestor before they’d come back with River, and Helena Wells had been quite progressive for her time.  Her advocacy of what had been called ‘free love’ back in a time of such stringent societal norms was, in and of itself, amazing. 

Helena would fit in very well with the 52nd century.

It was too bad she’d never see it.

“Yes,” Samara murmured, her heart breaking for the woman sitting next to her, “I think you would, too.”