Lets just assume "Instinct" didn't happen, and H.G. returned to the Warehouse as an agent.
P.s. This is my second ever fic, so any feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks so much for looking!
H.G. and Myka were quiet, set about their business. It was Friday night, but in all honesty, Myka had nothing else better to do than sift through the belongings of a past Warehouse agent. She was secretly relieved when Helena had offered to accompany her. The two friends never seemed to get enough time alone.
"Now, I know I've been away for a few decades, but honestly, was this ever in fashion?" Helena held up an old brown jacket to her body; property of the ex-Warehouse agent in question. He had been killed by the artifact they were currently hunting down, and short on any leads, they decided to investigate him instead.
"No, I don't think our mystery agent was down with the kids." Myka replied. Helena paused for a moment, to process the new language, and no doubt filed it away somewhere in her vast brain.
"Am I...down with the kids, as you'd put it?" Helena asked, perplexed. Myka snorted.
"You have a grappling gun and you cosplay as Tomb Raider, I think you're every teenager's dream." Helena shook her head, in confusion, but laughed anyway. It was a beautiful sound, and seldom heard.
"I have no idea what cosplay is, but it sounds fun." She threw the old jacket in Myka's direction, and Myka batted it to the floor.
They continued in comfortable silence, until the a single siren sounded, deafeningly, and the light outside their artifact-driven window went out. They shared a look, more than slightly concerned. They both knew it was no fun, being trapped by an artifact. Helena tried the door.
"It's locked. Someone's shut down the artifact keeping these rooms accessible." Myka tried the window, but without the artifact's help, the glass was as solid as steel. The blackness outside the window was all consuming.
"Phone? Farnsworth?" Myka asked, as she patted her own empty pockets.
"I left mine on the dial outside the door." Myka nodded. She must have left hers in Artie's office. How stupid - it was Warehouse 101, to be contactable at all times. She sat down on the edge of the single bed in defeat.
"I guess we're stuck here until morning."
. . . . . .
"You didn't!" Pete said, with a huge grin, as Artie joined him outside the Warehouse. Artie handed Myka's Farnsworth over to Pete for safe keeping.
"I did. You and I both know that it's getting unbearable, between those two. I don't know what it is, but they need to sit down in a room together and hash it out." Pete was sure Artie was oblivious to the obvious sexual tension brewing between the two female agents; he only noticed anything was off when their work became impaired.
Artie called it fighting; Pete and Claudia called it flirting.
Pete rubbed his hands together happily. Maybe this was exactly what Myka needed. He just didn't want to be the one to free her.
. . . . . . .
Helena took a new kind of inventory as Myka watched.
"I have some water, you have those inedible looking red things-"
"Twizzlers. They're called Twizzlers. And they're definitely edible." Helena gave Myka an amused look of disbelief and continued her search.
"Even so, I think I'll take my chances with this sandwich." she held up the offending article. It looked repulsive, and a bite had been taken out of it. "It is a kindred spirit of mine, don't you think? frozen in time, just like I was." Myka looked horrified, but then noticed the look of disgust on Helena's face. She dropped the sandwich back into the draw and shut it.
"You're funny. I'm having more Twizzlers than you for that." Helena didn't look like that was too much of a punishment. She continued to survey their temporary home.
Helena lifted a bottle of scotch from a draw, and with a shrug, set it on the side for later.
"One chair, two pillows, one blanket, one bed..." Helena's voice lingered on the word, as though trying to sound as casual as possible about it. It had the exact opposite effect.
"Well, I can take the chair-"
"No no, we're both adults. And anyway, our fallen agent died in mid-November, so it might get chilly in here soon." Myka gave the room a once over, and for the fiftieth time that week - at least - she marveled at the secret World in which she lived. Endless wonder, indeed.
"This is the replica of the room, on the exact night that he died. Right down to the weather?"
"Right down to the scotch and the half eaten sandwich." Helena sat next to Myka on the bed, and started to sift through the bedside draws.
Helena pulled out a chess board, triumphant, and said, "well, at least we can make the best of this situation. Chess, inedible food, and a bottle of scotch. It'll be just like a sleep over." She set the board game aside at the bottom of the bed. The funny thing was, she genuinely sounded cheerful.
So the fallen agent must have had a companion once, to play chess with at least. Unless he played alone. The thought saddened Myka. She wondered what her room might look like, one day. Whether the Warehouse would take her, and leave her room, forever vacant, within this artifact. It was a chilling thought.
"Well that's me tidying my room twice as often." Myka said, and instantly regretted it. Helena understood her meaning, and looked troubled.
"Myka Bering, if I am certain of one thing in this new world, it's that the Warehouse will never take you. You're much too clever. And anyway, I wouldn't let it." Their eyes met, and the look lingered.
Myka found her voice and replied. "If you're looking for redemption, if you want to be a martyr, don't do it for my benefit. You've changed the rules of time itself to be here, now. With us. You're important-" to me. Myka stopped herself, just in time, but the unsaid message was received. Myka should have known; some of their best conversations were completely silent. The truth was, no one knew her better. Not even Pete.
Helena took Myka's hand in hers, and drew it to her lap. She smiled down at their joined hands, and rubbed little circles with her thumb. The sensation felt new, exciting, but also familiar, like a forgotten dream.
Helena continued. "One day you'll realize that I'm nowhere near as noble as you think me to be. My reasons are purely selfish." Myka waited, enthralled, for Helena to continue. "This new world wouldn't be worth living in, without you." Myka searched Helena's eyes, and saw that she really believed her words. She continued.
"I'm a relic, the outcome of my own failed experiments. You're what the world needs. I want to keep you safe." To Myka's surprise, Helena lifted her hand to her lips, and placed a delicate, lingering, kiss on the back of Myka's hand. The sensation raced up her arm and spread throughout her body. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of how close, how intimate, their current situation was.
"Then lets make a deal." Myka whispered; they were so close now, inexorably drawn towards one another. Normal speech would be too intrusive, and break their spell. Myka took her hand back, and immediately missed the warmth. Helena's eyes remained on her own lonely hand. Myka brushed a strand of black hair behind Helena's ear, and she leaned into the caress. Her reaction made Myka's heart race.
Myka's hand remained, gently coaxing Helena's gaze back towards her own. She wanted to see these words sink in. Myka wanted so desperately to tell her everything: that she would die for her, in a heartbeat, if it came to it - that she didn't know what she was feeling, but it was new, and deep, and maddening.
Of course, that was not their way; they spoke in puzzles, and complexities, both too afraid or simply unable to be plain. With Helena's full attention, Myka spoke.
"Let's keep each other safe, then. Let's always have each other's backs. No matter what." It couldn't be a competition anymore, this dance that they danced; each one out witting the other in acts of pain, and sacrifice. Myka was sure that if the Warehouse didn't kill her in the end, her love for H.G. Wells would.
Love. Her thoughts caught her unaware, even as they formed. But looking deep into her friend's dark, soulful eyes, she knew it was true. There was no denying it any more.
Helena put a hand over Myka's, against her cheek. This was usually the time when one or the other would break their moment, and they would recede again back into the unknown. That wasn't going to happen this time.
This was it. this was really going to happen. Myka's head spun, but not with confusion. She parted her lips, and Helena shifted towards her on the bed.
There was a sudden crash - the noise vibrated around the silent room like thunder. Helena gasped, and Myka physically jumped. The chess set had fallen from the bed, pieces rolling around on the floor. Helena laughed, more nervous than usual. Myka had never even seen Helena nervous before.
"Well," Helena said, releasing Myka's hand from their intimate position. "it seems we are forever destined to pick up chess pieces together."
Myka couldn't help but laugh. The tension broke with the sound. She slid to her knees on the floor, with more of a thud than she had intended; she wasn't quite in control just yet.
"Fancy a game?" Myka asked.
"With you? always." Helena replied, and began to set up the chess pieces on the floor between them.
. . . . . . .
Helena had been right: it was starting to get cold. Neither woman would acknowledge it at first. Whist waiting for Helena to decide her next move, Myka caved in.
"It's getting colder." Myka said, as casually as she could. Helena only nodded, her eyes not leaving the chess board. It was a genuine passion for her and -of course- she was exceptional. They had been playing for around 40 minutes, and Myka was doing everything she could just to hold on that little bit longer. She was down to one rook, one knight, and a handful of pawns. Her Queen had fallen long ago. She was done for, and she knew it.
After H.G. had taken her latest move, which took another of Myka's pawns and threatened her King once more, Myka's hand hovered over the King, ready to fall him in defeat.
"No! Myka, don't give up now there are-" Helena paused, calculating. Myka loved it when Helena was deep in thought. She looked so at home. "Well, there is only one way left for you to still win, and frankly, the odds aren't great, but you can't give up now."
"I can hardly feel my hands." This was an exaggeration, but not too far off the mark. Certainly in an hour or so this would be the case.
"In Warehouse 12, I had to finish every, single, game. Everyday. Even when I knew within ten minutes that I was going to lose."
"Then why bother?" Myka asked. It seemed like such a waste of time and thought. "Why not concede?"
"Why? because very occasionally, even when the odds are against you, you can find a way to come back from the darkness." Helena gave Myka a penetrating stare. "You find the right piece, the one worth fighting for -sacrificing for- and in the end, they save you."
"Fine." Myka made her move, with fake petulance, and opened up the Twizzlers. Helena's words weren't lost on her; this was exactly her fear. Did being connected to Helena always have to be life and death? Would that trait only intensify if they got closer?
"To continue your metaphor," Myka began, carefully. "What if we didn't fight, and sacrifice, and didn't play this game at all. What if, instead of changing the rules, we change the game?" Helena contemplated Myka, almost proudly.
"And what game would you like to play instead?" Helena cocked her head, in her usual flirtatious manner, making it hard for Myka to remember what she was about to say.
"In general, in life, I'd love for us to never have to sacrifice anything or anyone ever again. But that isn't the world we live in, is it? With endless wonder comes endless sacrifice." Helena could sense the darkness in those words, and fought against them with her best sideways smile.
"And right now?"
"Hmm...Truth or Dare." Myka said, without a single hesitation. She didn't know where the thought even came from, except the night had become too heavy for her; too close to the truth. And anyway, it wasn't every day you could force H.G. Wells into eating a Twizzler. Or, indeed, into telling the truth.
I believe this will be one of three chapters.
