Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the rights to Warehouse 13
Note: This fic was inspired by a dream I had so be prepared to read something relatively strange (but good).
Myka knew she shouldn't have touched the artifact. The agent had become more prone to taking risks ever since Helena had been taken away. The Regents had been deliberating for weeks on whether to reinstate Agent Wells. She felt physically hurt that Helena wasn't by her side, but when she searched for a wound there was not one to be found. She would rather have sustained an injury she could see with her own eyes and touch with her own hands. This feeling she was experiencing was somewhere inside her she couldn't get at, couldn't sooth. It was almost as if her own heart had gone missing the day her friend had been taken away.
She had tried everything possible to find wherever Helena was hidden. Claudia lent a hand by crafting an algorithm that would search through the Warehouse computer files, but only came up with nasty "Prohibited" and "Not authorized" messages on her screen. Myka continued in her investigation by interrogating a tight-lipped Artie and even questioned Pete's mom (that had been a very awkward discussion). She persisted until Mr. Kosan made a personal visit and reprimanded her for her "insubordination and blatant disregard for the rules." She knew if she pushed any harder she would likely mess things up for Helena. She didn't want to be responsible for the woman's dismissal… or any other conclusion the Regents might come to because of her brash actions.
Yet again, she had continued her streak with the thoughtless decision to grab the spherical object. Myka had been on a solo mission just outside of Univille. It was a simple snag, bag, and tag job that she insisted on doing herself. She needed time to herself and with Pete around it was always a party. Despite her partner's opposition, Artie let the agent go on her own.
The artifact in question was black and orb-like. It reminded Myka of a similar object, one that held a peculiar power over her. The memory brought up feelings in her that pried the hole in her heart even wider, and so without thinking, she grasped the artifact with shaky hands…and sans gloves. Nothing fantastical happened, or at least nothing as bad as what Myka had witnessed with artifacts in the past. All that occurred once she touched the sphere was an inky shadow that crept up her hands and stopped at her wrists; nothing too serious.
Artie had been in a huff when she returned. He was more concerned with Myka not following protocol and wearing her gloves rather than the peculiar shade of gray her hands were stained with; that she probably deserved. After Leena had calmed Artie down from his extremely long rant about how he had children for Warehouse agents they were all able to work together to discover what had affected Myka through the artifact.
It turned out the orb was not harmful; however, its power didn't necessarily affect everyone who touched it. A gray discoloration that appeared from touching this particular artifact was a sign that the user had lost something. Pete piped in that the sphere sounded like a relatively safe (if not useful) artifact to have around. The downside, Artie informed them, was that the gray hue only disappeared when what was lost was returned to the person affected.
"Gosh, man, artifact downsides really suck, don't they?" Pete muttered while shaking his head.
"It could take years for the effect to reverse itself, depending on what you lost and how hard you try to find it." Artie explained.
"Artie," Myka said hesitantly, "What was lost, could it be… a person?"
Artie stared over his lenses at Myka for a moment.
"No, not me. I mean, I didn't lose anyone. No one is lost…but…umm..." Everyone else joined in with Artie, standing and staring at Myka. She looked at each of them, biting her nail then remembering the effect of the artifact and quickly folded her arms. "Never mind, I was just curious. I lost my favorite hairbrush a while back."
"Ohhh, so that's why your hair is back to that curly, mane thing." Pete added pointing his finger to his head in a circling motion.
Myka gave her partner a glaring look.
"Yeeeah," Claudia said, "So what is Myka going to do in the meantime? Where white gloves and moonwalk down the Warehouse aisles?"
Artie looked to Myka, "As far as I'm concerned you're perfectly capable of carrying on the job, but if I were you I would find that hairbrush," he stated, "If at all possible."
Myka didn't know if that was possible. It could have taken another month or more to get back what was lost (and what she lost was not a hairbrush). The agent had a queer feeling that Artie knew she had been lying about what she claimed to have "misplaced." She couldn't explain why, but after he found out what the consequences of the artifact were Artie had become relatively easy on Myka and her slip-up. He was almost sympathetic.
A week after being marked by the artifact the discoloration in the agent's hands still remained, yet nothing about her daily routine changed, she just missed Helena even more with the blatant reminder stained on her. She would have commenced the search for her dear friend, but she knew it would be in vain. Helena's fate wasn't Myka's decision, it was the Regent's and that had to be respected. She already took too many risks on assignment in the past few months; the aforementioned mission clearly not an exception.
It wasn't until a stormy Monday afternoon that something changed. Myka was deep within the Warehouse on inventory duty when she noticed the color of her hands. She thought it was nothing, maybe a trick of the light, but as she brought herself down from one of the shelves she was working on it became clear. She was seized by a sharp intake of breath when before her were normal, flesh colored hands. Her own hands, not those gray hued ones she had been living with since impulsively grasping the orb-like artifact.
The agent metaphorically dropped everything she was doing and ran.
The woman burst through the B&B out of breath, head whipping back and forth searching furiously for what she lost. Her heart was galloping in her chest, racing against the suspense. She was soaking wet from the storm raging outside, but she paid no mind to dragging wet boots on finished floorboards. The sound of voices led her to the living room and she stopped in her tracks at what was before her. Artie, Leena, Pete, and Claudia were buzzing around a raven haired Victorian, talking animatedly.
"Hey, Mykes! Guess who's back?" Pete said with a wide grin pointing towards their blushing guest.
For a second Myka thought she was seeing a mirage. Reality did not register for her until she saw the woman turn to her. Their eyes met, reading each other as if their souls were telling a story. In those few seconds they understood what they put themselves through in those weeks they had been apart. They each took in a deep breath and let it out in sync, relieved that the world was now righted.
While everyone else took their cue to leave, Artie lingered behind slightly. He was about to pass a still immovable Myka, but hesitated. He looked down at her hands for confirmation and tipped his head and whispered from the side of his mouth, "I think you found your hairbrush."
Helena moaned in pleasure at the heat raining down from the semi-broken shower head and the eager petting between her legs. The combination overwhelmed her senses almost as much as the feeling of Myka's body pressed up against her in a loving, slippery embrace. The taller woman took her lover's hand in her free, naturally colored grasp, squeezing and pushing her further against the shower wall to keep the squirming woman still enough to deliver one final thrust. Helena's rising cry was muffled by the creaking shower head and Myka's mouth. The water beat down on their trembling bodies, the heat soothing muscles that would soon become tender from the strain of lovemaking.
Myka never tore her eyes from the other woman's brown irises that rainy afternoon and in the celebrated time spent together in the shower. After weeks of waiting, the sleepless nights alone, the risks she took, it all led to this. Being held under the gaze of the Victorian again, Myka knew it was not all in vain. What was lost was now in her arms, found.