Author's Note: Season 4, AU post- "Instinct". Like many, I wasn't happy with how things in that episode played out, so this is my fix. References my story "Love Potion No. 9"; while it's not necessary I highly recommend that you read it first.
Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust
"Hey Mykes, check it out!" Pete called from the other side of the aisle. Before Myka could even turn around, he started singing, "I took my troubles down to Madam Ruth…"
"Pete!" Myka's voice came out a little shriller than she intended as she whipped around. Pete froze, holding a small glass bottle that glittered with the light of the rosy purple liquid it contained. "Put. The bottle. Down."
Something in her tone convinced her partner that she wasn't fooling around. "Geez, sorry," Pete muttered, setting the bottle down with great care and eyeing it like it was a grenade. "What do you have against Love Potion Number Nine, anyway?" he asked, turning back to face Myka.
"Nothing," Myka lied. Nothing, right, a little voice in her head spoke up. That's only the artifact that made you kiss HG Wells—with an almost physical effort, Myka shut down that train of thought before it could build up steam. It had been almost two months since she'd discovered Helena alive, well, living with a man she apparently loved and apparently done with the Warehouse. Anytime she thought about all of this, Myka felt almost physically ill.
"Sure, 'nothing', right," Pete said, drawing Myka back to the present. "I may not be Steve, Mykes, but even I can tell that you are lying. So come on, spill." He crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. "Okay, fine," he huffed several moments later. "So you don't want to tell me. I get it. But would you at least consider talking to Abigail?"
Myka opened her mouth, ready to agree to anything to get Pete off of her back, when a familiar buzzing sound emanated from his back pocket. "Saved by the Farnsworth," Pete commented. "Don't think that we're done talking about this," he warned her as he extracted the device and opened it.
"Back to the office," Artie told them when he appeared on the Farnsworth's screen. "You have a mission."
"Okay Artie, what's up?" Pete called out as he led the way into the office.
"We've got a ping," the elder agent announced, reaching up from his seat in front of the computers to pass Myka a folder. "Several people in Pittsburgh have reported seeing a flying child."
"Cool!" Pete stated, moving to look over Myka's shoulder at the papers in the folder.
"Not cool," Artie contradicted him. "This child has apparently been responsible for several traffic accidents and nearly collided with a helicopter that was airlifting a patient to one of the hospitals."
"Was anyone hurt?" Myka asked, looking up from the report.
"Thankfully no, but this needs to stop. You're on the next flight out. Oh, one more thing," Artie continued in a would-be casual tone, "you two won't be going alone."
Myka's head snapped up. "What do you …" Her voice trailed off as a familiar figure appeared from the file room. For several long moments, time stood still. Myka's insides turned somersaults as her brain tried to start working again.
"Hello darling," Helena G. Wells finally said. "Did you miss me?"
Two days ago
"Emi—Helena." The small voice tugged at Helena, pulling her out of her thoughts and back to the living room of Nate's house. Nate was at work; Helena had taken the day off to be with Adelaide, who had a holiday from school.
"Yes darling, what is it?"
"You went away again," the girl informed her, staring at her from across the chessboard. "I made my move five minutes ago."
"I'm sorry darling," Helena apologized. She immediately turned her attention to the game, trying to remember where the pieces had been before she stopped paying attention.
"Helena," Adelaide said again.
"Yes, love?"
"Are you happy here?"
The question stopped Helena short, pulling her attention away from the chess pieces and back to the girl sitting on the other side of the low table. "Why do you ask?" she inquired. It had suddenly become rather hard to breathe.
"Ever since your friends came, things have been different."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you zone out a lot. Sometimes I'm not sure if you see me or Christina. And you and Dad haven't been getting along."
This is what you get for living with a man whose daughter is an exceptionally bright ten-year-old, Helena berated herself, and then training her to use observation and deductive reasoning.
"So, are you happy here?" Adelaide asked again.
Helena sighed. She couldn't lie to the girl. "I honestly don't know, darling," she admitted. "I love you and your father, but…"
"You miss the excitement," the child finished.
"Yes." There was no shame in admitting this; Helena's current job certainly didn't bring the same adrenalin rush as chasing artifacts.
"And you miss her."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You miss Myka," Adelaide repeated. "Helena," she continued when the author could only stare, "just because I'm ten doesn't mean I'm stupid. I saw how you acted when she was here. You love her."
Even as she struggled to draw a deep breath, Helena smiled. "I've taught you too well."
Adelaide returned the grin, but quickly grew serious again. "What you told Dad and me, about trying to be normal..." She trailed off, and Helena knew she was remembering the conversation the three of them had had after Myka and Pete left.
"I used to work for the government," Helena admitted. "I had a daughter, Christina, who was about your age, Adelaide. She was killed by some bad people. I caught them."
"What happened to them?" Nate asked, warily.
"All you need to know is that they won't be hurting anyone ever again," Helena told him, a little more sharply than she'd intended.
"Did you work with Myka and Pete?" Adelaide cut through the sudden tension.
"Yes, yes I did."
"Why'd you leave them?"
"Well, another coworker became very sick, and I was tasked with finding a way to make him better."
"Did you?" Nate asked.
"I did," Helena allowed, "but it took a long time, and I realized afterwards just how tired I was of that kind of work. So I decided that a change of scenery was in order."
"What about it, darling?" Helena asked the girl now.
"I don't think that it's working," Adelaide stated. She was remaining surprisingly calm about it, but Helena could see the tears starting to fill her eyes.
"Come here," Helena told the girl. Adelaide obeyed, getting up from the ottoman and circling the coffee table to sit beside Helena on the couch. "You," Helena continued, wrapping an arm around the child, "are the smartest girl I have met in a long time. I'm sorry that you couldn't meet Christina; I think the two of you would have got on quite well." Adelaide smiled at the thought, but stayed quiet. "You're right," Helena continued after a long moment. "I do love Myka, and I miss her terribly."
"Then you should go to her," Nate's voice said.
Helena jumped in surprise. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Nate standing in the dining room, and wondered how long he'd been standing there. She also wondered why Adelaide hadn't given any sign she'd seen him.
"Forgot some files," he replied to her unspoken question. "Helena," Nate continued, entering the room and heading for the ottoman so recently abandoned by his daughter, "I can't pretend to understand you, or what you've gone through. But Adelaide's right: You've changed in the last couple of months. I think," he paused, took a deep breath, and let it out, "I think it's time for you to go."
Stunned, Helena could only sit and stare at him as an emotional tornado welled up inside. Sorrow, pain, and other emotions she couldn't even begin to name fought for dominance, but as she let them play out, she realized that overriding all of the others was a sense of relief. "Thank you," she finally managed, her voice raw.
Nate nodded, and silence returned for another long moment. "Adelaide," Helena said, "could you give your father and me a moment?" Uncharacteristically silent, the girl nodded, got up, and left. Nate merely gazed at Helena, waiting. "I'm sorry," Helena finally said, "for putting both of you through all of this."
"Well, I did always say that life with you was never dull." Nate managed a half smile. "Although having my daughter kidnapped and finding out that you used to work for the Secret Service wasn't quite what I had in mind."
Helena winced. "I never meant to hurt her, Nate."
"I know that, Helena. And I also know that you never meant to hurt me. I just…" he trailed off, looking down at his lap. Once again, silence filled the space between them. "I want you to stay," he eventually said, "but I want you to stay because you want to, because it's what makes you happy." He looked back up at her. "Look around you, Helena. What you see is what you get. No saving the President, or looking for dangerous artifacts, or whatever it is you did. Can this," he spread his hands to encompass the room, "ever be enough for you?"
Helena didn't even have to think. "I'm sorry, Nate, I don't think it can."
"Then I don't think there's any more to say." Nate stood up, his posture defeated. "I need to get back to the office. Would you please stay with Adelaide until I get home this evening?"
"Of course." Helena stared at the chessboard as Nate left the room. She heard him call good-bye to Adelaide, then the unmistakable thump of the back door closing. Helena stayed in the living room, unable to move, her mind racing.
She'd tried a normal life. Clearly, she would never be normal. It was time to return to a place of endless wonder, to resume the business of saving the world. And maybe, just maybe, finally get to be with the woman she loved.
Two tearful goodbyes and more hours in a car than she cared to think about later, Helena stood once more in the office, facing her friends. She'd arrived at the Warehouse not even an hour ago to find Mrs. Fredric and Artie waiting for her. Somehow, she wasn't surprised.
"The Regents have agreed to let you return," the caretaker informed her. "Arthur had the details of your next mission."
"Welcome back, HG," Artie greeted her. He motioned to the open door behind her. "Head on down to the office. I just need to talk to…" His words were cut off by the sounds of Mrs. Fredric's car starting. "Never mind," the older agent stated. He gestured for her to follow him down the umbilicus. On his instructions, she waited in the file room when he summoned Pete and Myka, only revealing herself at his cue. Now she stood before the pair, waiting for them to say something.
Myka stared at her, and Helena couldn't sort through the mix of emotions in the other woman's eyes. Then, without a word, Myka turned on her heel and retreated back into the Warehouse. Pete watched his partner go before turning back to the others. "Well, I'm glad you're back," he assured Helena. "And I'm sure Myka is too. She just…" But he trailed off, clearly uncertain about his partner's mental state. "I'll go get her," he offered.
"No, I will," Helena sighed. "I need to talk to her."
"Okay. Meet you at the car in thirty?"
Helena nodded and made her way into the Warehouse, reasonably sure of where she would find Myka.
Sure enough, not ten minutes later Helena discovered Myka curled up in an old armchair in the HG Wells section. Several glib comments crossed Helena's mind, but at a look from Myka they died unspoken.
"What happened?" Myka asked, her voice raspy.
"I didn't fit into their world." It was the truth, or enough of it for now. Silence settled again.
"Are you staying this time?"
The hope in Myka's voice caused Helena's heart to skip a beat. "Yes," she replied.
"Good. That's good." Myka unfolded herself from the chair and approached the author. Helena debated retreating from that determined walk, but Myka merely brushed past her and began walking back down the aisle. Helena could only watch, mesmerized by the sight of Myka's back. Something told Myka she wasn't being followed, for she looked over her shoulder at where Helena stood, frozen to the spot. "Well? Are you coming?"
The words acted as a spell-breaker. "Right behind you, darling," Helena assured the other woman.
Pete Lattimer was not stupid.
Okay, he wasn't the brightest individual. He certainly wasn't anywhere near as smart as Claudia or HG, his memory was nowhere near Myka's, and he couldn't even tell when people were lying, like Steve. But his vibes gave him an edge over the others, and he'd had plenty of practice reading people over the years. So when HG Wells walked back into their lives, Pete sensed immediately that this would not be the easiest retrieval ever.
Not that it really mattered to him; as much as he pretended otherwise, it scared him when artifacts or the people holding them gave in without too much of a fight. But this time, his vibe seemed to be concerned with the two women now seated next to him on the airplane. Quite frankly, Pete was a little worried. He'd have had to be blind and deaf to miss the romantic tension that had sprung up between Myka and HG over the years. In fact, while waiting for the ladies he'd looked up the report on the retrieval of Love Potion Number Nine and wasn't too surprised to learn that it had been Myka working with HG who'd brought that particular artifact in. Pete could read between the lines rather easily; something had happened on that mission that Mykes omitted from her report. Thinking back, Pete remembered how happy Myka had been between that mission and their little jaunt to Egypt, and suspected that a certain Victorian had something to do with that.
Honestly, that was part of the reason Pete had felt so betrayed when HG decided to destroy the world: He'd seen what it did to Myka. Pete loved his partner like a sister. Seeing her in so much pain, watching her drive away from the Warehouse, had hurt him. Though he wasn't proud of it, the memory of that pain had been why he was so hostile towards HG when she first showed up as a hologram. But even then, he could see how much "Lady Cuckoo" cared for Myka; by the end of that particular mission, Pete could feel his anger fading into, if not like, then at least respect. Then the Janus coin, Sykes, the astrolabe, the dagger… As far as Pete was concerned, the past was the past: HG had earned a spot at the Warehouse. The only problem was, the woman had seemingly dropped off the face of the planet.
Pete wasn't sure who was more shocked when they finally heard from HG: him or Myka. Finding out that the mad inventor had been working as a forensic scientist and living with a man for six months had definitely been unsettling for him, and he'd seen how much it hurt Myka. Although she would never admit it, Mykes had had tears on her face in the car after they'd said good-bye to HG. Pete had felt his heart ache for his partner, but at the same time he'd felt a slight vibe, something that told him they would be seeing HG again soon. He'd never been so glad to be right. Now he just had to make it through this retrieval with the pair.
"Okay," he said, pulling out the folder from Artie. "I can already see one big problem with this mission." The three agents sat in the very last row of the plane: four seats right across the back of the cabin. Thankfully, the flight was only about half-full and the fourth seat remained empty.
"And that is?" Myka asked. She'd insisted on a window seat.
"Pittsburgh isn't exactly a small town," Pete answered. "If this kid can really fly, how do we know where to even start looking?"
"Do we have a map of the city?" HG asked. She sat on Pete's other side, at the head of the aisle, with the empty seat to her left. "We can use the locations from the police reports to try to narrow the search area."
"Good idea," Pete agreed, digging a city map and the police reports out of the folder. Myka took the reports from him as he tried to lay the map out on the rinky-dink tray table. "Mykes?"
"Okay, the first sighting was at the corner of Penn and Shady."
Pete remembered some street names from their previous visits to the city, so it wasn't too long before he pointed in triumph. "There." He quickly circled the intersection. "Next?"
"Centre and Negley," Myka replied.
"Got it," Pete stated.
"And the last accident occurred on Penn between Atlantic and Pacific."
"Coast to coast, huh?" Pete grinned as he scanned the map.
"Don't forget the helicopter pilot," HG spoke up as Pete circled the last location. "He was headed for which hospital?"
Myka was already consulting the final report. "Children's."
"Which is right… here." With an air of finality, Pete circled the hospital's location and straightened up. "Well I don't know about you two, but I'm seeing a pattern."
"Definitely," Myka agreed.
HG nodded. "We seem to have narrowed our search considerably."
"So what now?" Pete asked. "Do we go door to door?" He mimed knocking. "Good morning ma'am. Can you tell me if you've seen a flying kid lately?"
"Not quite," HG said.
Something in her tone made Pete look over at her. "Uh-oh," he said, recognizing the pensive look on the inventor's face. "I'm not sure I'm going to like this…"
It wasn't as bad as Pete had feared, Myka reflected later. On Helena's advice, Myka got in touch with an acquaintance in the Pittsburgh Police and arranged for the helicopter pilot to meet with a sketch artist. By the time the trio reached the station, three copies of the resulting sketch awaited them.
"Mind telling me why the Secret Service is interested in this kid?" Lieutenant Adams, Myka's contact, asked as he passed over the papers.
"Sorry Matt," Myka apologized. "It's a matter of-"
"National security," he completed. "I get it, Myka. I don't like it, but I get it. Just tell me one thing," he requested. "Is this matter of national security going to cause any more traffic accidents?"
"Hopefully not," Myka replied. "Thanks again, Lieutenant."
"My pleasure, Agent Bering."
Sketches in hand, the team split up to ask home- and business owners in the area of the sightings if anyone recognized the child. Pete volunteered to cover the area known as Penn Circle, which included the sites of the first two accidents. That left Helena and Myka to walk Penn Avenue between Atlantic and the hospital, and Myka was both elated and terrified at the prospect. Ever since Helena had walked in to the Warehouse office, Myka's emotions and thoughts had been all jumbled up. As happy as she was to see the author again, Myka somehow knew immediately that things were over between Helena and Nate, which made Myka feel relieved, hopeful, and guilty all at once.
I'm glad she's not with him anymore. He wasn't right for her. Maybe now we can have another chance. Oh god, did I somehow screw up her chance at a normal life? Does she hate me for it? Will she shut me out?
Even after Helena's assurance otherwise, Myka still couldn't quite believe that the inventor was back to stay. That was what she, Myka, had hoped the last time, after all. Then Artie sent her away and Myka didn't see her again for six months. So as much as she enjoyed working with Helena again, as easily as they seemed to fit, Myka tried to keep her distance. She wasn't sure that her heart could take another beating.
"Penny for your thoughts," Helena's voice broke in, pulling Myka back to reality. With a start, the Secret Service agent realized that on the other side of the next cross street was a cemetery, with Children's Hospital standing tall beyond that. The pair had walked five blocks, knocked on countless doors, interviewed who-knew-how-many people, and Myka barely remembered any of it.
"Myka?" Helena asked. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Myka lied. "I was just thinking that we should cross the street and start heading back."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to go as far as the hospital first?" Helena motioned towards the tall building. "We may find someone who can identify our mystery child."
"Oh, right," Myka replied. "Come on," she continued, noting the flashing crosswalk signal. She rushed across the intersection.
"Myka!" Helena grabbed her arm once they reached the other side. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine, Helena," Myka stated, twisting out of the other agent's grasp and walking away.
"I don't believe you," Helena informed her, matching her stride for stride. "Now will you tell me what is going on? Or-"
"Or what?" Myka snapped, wheeling around to face the author. "You'll what, Helena? Interrogate me? Or just leave…" Her voice broke, and all of the energy suddenly left her. She couldn't face Helena anymore; her head dropped until her chin touched her chest. "Leave me again?" she half-sobbed.
Myka stared at the sidewalk, willing herself not to cry. She'd taken a couple of deep breaths when Helena's hand appeared briefly in her field of view; a moment later that same hand had cupped Myka's chin and lifted her face to meet Helena's brown-eyed gaze.
How many times had Myka heard or read the expression "to get lost in someone's eyes"? Well, now she finally understood what it meant. In Helena's eyes, she relived every moment that she'd shared with the inventor and all of the emotions that accompanied them: shock, suspicion, mistrust, exhilaration, relief, gratitude, lust, betrayal, heartbreak, frustration, joy, and, most powerful of all, love. Caught up in the emotional maelstrom, Myka barely noticed Helena leaning closer until the author's face was mere inches away.
"I promise," Helena's voice was soft but firm, "I'm not going anywhere." With that, the author closed the remaining distance and placed her lips on Myka's.
Brrrring! Brrrring!
Myka and Helena both jumped. Helena pulled away as Myka retrieved her cell phone from her pocket. "What've you got, Pete?" Myka asked, pleased that her voice remained steady.
"I've got nothin'," Pete proclaimed. "Have you two had any luck?"
"Sort of," Myka replied, looking at Helena.
"What was that Mykes?"
Myka shook her head and tore her gaze away from the other woman, looking up at the sky. "Sorry, Pete, we…" Myka trailed off, reaching blindly for Helena.
"Myka, what…" Helena trailed off as she realized what Myka was looking at.
"Mykes? Mykes!"
"Pete, meet us at the Allegheny Cemetery," Myka told her partner. She hung up before he answered, following Helena to the graveyard's entrance. The pair stood by the gate, watching as the figure of a flying child disappeared into the late afternoon sun over the headstones and trees.
"Why are you following me?"
Hiding her smile, Helena stopped in her tracks and slowly turned towards the sound of the child's voice. "Actually, I'm reasonably certain it's you who are following me," she told the boy, craning her neck so that she could see him where he sat in the tree.
"No," the boy assured her, shaking his head, "you were following me."
Now Helena did smile. "Yes, I was."
"Why?" he asked again.
"I just want to talk to you." Helena looked around. They were somewhere in the graveyard. After a brief discussion when Pete joined them, it was decided that the trio should split up to cover as much ground as possible, checking in via cell phone every fifteen minutes or so. Helena had wandered into a section that was more trees than headstones, but there was a bench just a little further along the path. She pointed to it. "Would you sit with me?"
The boy was silent for a moment, his face hidden in the shadows. "Okay," he said at last. With that, he leaned forward and literally flew from the tree, landing in a seated position on the bench. "What?" he asked, noticing Helena's stare.
"I'm impressed," Helena told him, walking up and sitting on the opposite end of the bench. And she was: He flew with a grace the spoke of lots of practice. "How long have you been flying?" Now that he was out of the shadows of the trees, she took the opportunity to study him. He wore what she thought of as the child's uniform of jeans and t-shirt, although his feet were surprisingly bare, and looked as though they had been for some time.
"I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "You sound different."
"Well," Helena smiled at the change of subject, "I'm not from Pittsburgh."
"Are you from England?"
"Yes, I am." Helena held out her hand to him. "My name is Helena. What's yours?"
"Jack," he replied, shaking her hand. He finally smiled at her, revealing perfect, white teeth. "Why are you here?"
"Well, I heard stories about a boy who could fly, and I wanted to see if they were true." As she spoke, Helena continued to study him, trying to figure out what the artifact was. His clothes looked too new, and he wasn't wearing any jewelry that she could see, so what was it?
Jack's smile widened. "You came to see me?" He seemed very pleased with the thought.
"Yes I did." Now it was her turn to change the subject. "How old are you, Jack?"
"Fifteen."
The answer momentarily stunned her. His clothes couldn't hide his short stature or slight build, and that baby face and unruly hair only served to add to the image of a much younger child than he claimed. The ringing of her phone interrupted Helena's musings. "Excuse me," she told Jack, turning slightly away from him. She glanced at the caller ID before picking up. "Hello, Myka."
"Have you had any luck?" The other agent's voice was steady, but Helena could hear hints of desperation and tiredness.
"As a matter of fact, yes," Helena replied. "Give me a moment." She shifted the lower part of the phone away from her mouth. "Jack, I have some friends that would like to meet you, too. Is that alright?"
He studied her, suddenly suspicious. "Why?"
Helena knew that if she lied to him, he'd fly off. "We want to figure out how you can fly."
Suspicion turned to acceptance. "Oh, that's easy."
"Can you show my friends?"
"Sure."
"Helena?" Myka's voice demanded attention. "Where are you?"
"Myka, Jack and I will meet you at the entrance of the cemetery," Helena informed the other agent.
"Okay." Myka's tone mixed hesitation and trust in equal measure. "I'll call Pete. See you at the entrance."
"Thank you," Helena replied before hanging up. How had she ever thought that she could live without Myka Bering in her life?
"Why are you smiling?"
"I'm just thinking about how happy my friends will be to meet you," Helena told the boy, turning to face him again. "Come," she told him, rising from her seat. "We should get going."
Jack also stood, and once again Helena was struck by how young he appeared. While some might consider it an added benefit, Helena suspected that Jack's decelerated aging might actually be the artifact's downside. The sooner she got the boy to the entrance of the cemetery, the sooner she, Pete, and Myka could neutralize whatever artifact he was using. With that thought in mind, Helena turned and headed down the path, adjusting her pace so that Jack could keep up.
"Why are we walking?" he asked.
"Because I can't fly the way you can," Helena replied.
"Would you like to?"
Helena stopped in her tracks and turned to face Jack. "How?"
An impish grin spread across Jack's face; clearly, he enjoyed surprising Helena. Rather than reply, he lifted the hem of his t-shirt, revealing a very old-looking leather belt that sparkled in the fading sunlight. Jack rubbed his hand on the belt before offering it to Helena. "Take my hand," he told her.
A quick argument took place in Helena's head. Don't do it, said a voice that sounded remarkably like Myka.
It will be a fascinating experience.
You know better! First rule of artifact hunting: Avoid touching the artifact or people affected by same with your bare hands.
Point. But more can be learned by accepting; we need to know if this effect can be transferred.
Satisfied with her logic, Helena reached out and gently grasped Jack's hand in her own.
The boy's grin widened. "Now you have to think a happy thought."
Christina. Myka. Helena gasped at the floating sensation that suffused her. Looking down, she was startled to see that her feet now hung a foot or so off of the ground. That feeling quickly gave way to exhilaration as she looked back at Jack. He'd floated high enough that his face was now level with hers, his grin so big it looked as though his face would split in two. "Lean forward," he said, shifting his grip and turning to the side so he could demonstrate. Helena did as instructed, and felt herself moving, imperceptibly at first, then faster as she leaned further. A smile stole across her face; this was wonderful.
Jack tugged at their hands, pulling her high enough that they skimmed the tops of the trees. From this vantage point, Helena could easily see the entrance gate; now it was her turn to pull Jack's hand, guiding him towards the wrought iron. As they approached, Helena observed Myka and Pete standing in front of the gate, talking. Well, Pete was talking; Myka appeared to be scanning the graveyard, and Helena suspected that Myka was watching for her.
"Pull up!" Jack had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind, but tugged on Helena's hand to guide her into a shallow dive before pulling upright into a standing position. The pair landed on their feet in front of Pete and Myka. The former's mouth hung open, but Helena was instead focused on Myka, on the relief and worry on the other agent's face.
"Helena," Myka breathed out.
"That was so cool!" Pete exclaimed before Helena could say anything. "Can I try? Please?"
"Pete!" Myka hissed.
Beside her, Helena heard Jack giggle. "Myka, Pete," she interrupted the byplay, "this is Jack. Jack, these are my friends."
"Hi, Jack," Myka greeted the boy, crouching down so that she was eye-level with him. Behind her, Pete also knelt.
"Hi," Jack replied. He cocked his head at her. "Helena said that you wanted to learn how I fly."
"That's right," Myka nodded.
"Actually," Helena spoke up, "I think that I figured it out. Jack, may we see your belt?"
"Sure," the boy nodded, lifting his shirt so that the buckle was visible. Helena shifted her gaze to her fellow Warehouse agents, whose expressions had shifted from indulgence to wariness.
"Jack," Myka spoke again, drawing the boy's attention back to her, "where did you get that belt?"
"Mom gave it to me."
"When was that?"
"I dunno," the boy shrugged. "A while ago."
"Do you remember how old you were?" Helena asked.
"Eight, I think."
Seeing the others' confusion, Helena explained, "Jack is fifteen years old." The corners of her mouth twitched up at the shocked expressions on her fellow agents' faces. "Jack," Helena turned her attention back to the boy, "do you know where your mother got the belt?"
He shook his head. "She brought it back from a trip."
"Hey buddy," Pete said, entering the conversation, "um, do you remember when you learned how to fly?"
Once again, Jack shook his head. "Why?"
"Oh boy," Pete muttered.
"Jack," Myka said, "please take off your belt."
"Why?" Jack's voice was suspicious.
"Because… because…" Myka looked at Helena.
"Jack." Helena gently took Jack's shoulder and turned him to face her. "We're concerned that the belt may be hurting you. We just want to have a closer look at it."
"Okay," he nodded. He began undoing the buckle, and Helena quickly pulled on a pair of gloves. By the time Jack held the belt out to her, the other Warehouse agents had also produced gloves, and Pete had also pulled out a static bag. "What's that?" Jack asked, seeing the bag.
"That," Helena replied, taking the belt from him, "is just a little test."
"Test? What kind of test?"
"Well," Helena explained, examining the belt, "we put the belt in the bag. If nothing happens, then you can put it back on." As she'd suspected, the belt was extremely old. In fact, she was rather surprised that the leather was still in good enough shape to be used. As she'd previously noted, the belt was also covered in a light coating of glitter.
"What if something happens?" Jack asked as she passed the belt over to Myka.
"Then we need to keep the belt," Helena told him.
"Cover your eyes, kid," Pete stated, shaking the bag out and holding it open. When Jack didn't move to comply, Helena reached up to place her hand over his eyes, turning her own head as Myka dumped the belt in the bag's mouth. A familiar sizzling sound and lights followed. Helena turned back and uncovered Jack's eyes as Pete sealed the bag.
"I'm not getting my belt back, am I?" Jack asked.
"Sorry kid," Pete replied, straightening up, "doesn't look like it."
Myka turned to look at Helena and the boy. "Jack, can you try flying?"
Jack nodded. After standing still for a moment, he closed his eyes. His face screwed up in concentration, and then his eyes flew open. "I… I… I can't!" he wailed.
Helena wrapped her arms around him, and he buried himself in her embrace, sniffling. "Shhh. You're fine; it's okay." She looked over the child's head and locked eyes with Myka. "You're fine; it's okay."
Six hours later
"Nina Boucicault's belt," Helena read from the display as Myka laid the artifact in question in its designated shelf space.
"I gotta admit," Pete said, "I'm a little surprised."
"Why?" Myka asked.
"Well, I guess I would've thought a Peter Pan artifact would've belonged to J. M. Barrie. What?" he asked when Myka looked at him, "I can't know the author of a book?"
"No," Myka reassured him, "I'm just a little surprised, is all."
"Mom used to read it to me as a bedtime story," he explained. "Anyway, I'm just surprised that it's a costume piece that got all of the cool powers."
"I don't know that I'd call never growing old 'cool', Pete," Myka admonished. "Remember what Jack's parents said?"
"Yeah," Pete sighed. Jack's parents had related the stories of the bullying and teasing that the kid had been subjected to. "But what about the flying, Mykes? C'mon, don't tell me that that wasn't cool."
"Maybe a little," Myka smiled.
"Hey HG! What was it like to…?" Pete trailed off. "Hey, where'd she go?"
Myka looked around. "I'll go find her. You head on back to the office." Without waiting for a reply, she headed off down the aisle, completely missing Pete's grin.
It didn't take a lot of thought to head for the HG Wells section. Myka's feet knew the way; in no time at all she was standing in the doorway, watching as Helena paced around. The inventor was looking at the items on the shelves, occasionally reaching out to touch something, stopping to look into an open crate. Myka knew the exact moment that Helena became aware of her presence, but she let the silence stretch out.
Finally, crouched by the time machine, Helena sighed. "I'm sorry, Myka."
It took Myka a moment to find her voice. "Was it… was it something I did? Why you left them, I mean."
Helena shook her head. "You didn't do anything wrong, Myka. I just…" She finally looked at the other agent. "I had to try for a normal life."
"I know the feeling," Myka admitted, walking over and taking a seat on the floor next to the time machine.
"Right," Helena said, shifting around so that she also sat on the floor. "I feel like I owe you an apology for that, too."
"Actually, you were the one that convinced me to come back. And I'm glad that you did." Myka looked at her feet, a little embarrassed at being so open. Silence surrounded them for a time.
"Thank you," Helena finally said.
"For what?"
"For showing me the way back."
Myka reached over and placed her hand on the other woman's leg. "Anytime." Helena took Myka's hand in her own. Silence fell as the pair contemplated their entwined hands. "You know," Myka suddenly said, "right before Artie called us to the office for this mission, Pete was playing with an artifact."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Helena laughed. "And which artifact did Pete nearly unleash this time?"
Myka swallowed. "Love Potion Number Nine." She looked up to meet Helena's gaze.
"Ah, that does bring back memories." The words were lighthearted, but there was tension in Helena's voice.
Myka felt a sudden urge to move. "We should get back to the office," she said, pulling her hand away and standing up.
"Myka." Helena's voice pinned her in place as the other agent climbed to her feet. "We…" she trailed off, sighed, and began again. "I know that I've messed things up between us, but there's something you should know."
Myka turned to face her. "What's that?"
"I love you. I still love you, and I hope," Helena took a deep breath, "I hope that you still love me."
"Does this mean that you're staying?"
Helena let out an exasperated sigh. "I already told you-" She stopped when Myka put a finger over her lips.
"I know what you said, but I need to know if you mean it, Helena. I love you, too," Myka admitted, "but I can't go through all this again. If this isn't what you really want, then now's the time to walk away." She blinked, trying to get rid of the tears that suddenly filled her eyes.
Helena reached up and carefully lowered Myka's hand. "I came back because I love you, Myka. This is what I really want." With that, she moved forward and kissed Myka. An instant later, Myka responded. Arms wrapped around one another, mouths opened, tongues moved. Finally, a need for air broke them apart. "I missed you," Helena murmured.
"I missed you, too," Myka replied. Without warning, her stomach let out a loud growl.
"Come on," Helena laughed. "I bet there are leftovers at the B and B." She disentangled herself from the embrace but kept hold of Myka's hand. "Shall we?"
Myka's smile hurt, but it was a good hurt. "Sounds like a plan."
Author's Note: Nina Boucicault is the actress that first performed the role of Peter Pan onstage. Feedback welcome!