The man enters the building, his eyes scanning the rubble. It had been some fire. Testing the staircase for stability, he decides that it was safe.
He reaches for his radio. "Lattimer here. I found a secure way to the second floor. I'm going up. Over."
"Lattimer, be careful. There's structural damage all over the place," his boss radios. "Over."
"Got it. Over, boss."
Lattimer was a fire fighter, and he was darn good at it too. He got these vibes, eerie feelings that let him know when something weird was going on. It made him the best man on his squad.
At the moment, Lattimer had the scary feeling that whatever happened today would change some people's lives forever. He got to the second floor, surveying the blackened wall paper. It used to be a hospital, his boss had said. A maternity ward.
Remembering his own experience at the maternity ward, with his wife, he shivered. It seemed like only yesterday, but his son was now eight years old. His first cries would be forever embodied in Lattimer's memory. He could almost hear them now.
Actually, he could hear someone crying now. And, it didn't sound like a baby.
Lattimer walks down the hallway, peaking into the last room on the hall. The fire hadn't harmed this room at all. The walls were a light pink, and a little girl sat on the bed with a smile on her face.
"Hello," she grins. "Did you come to save me? Where's my mommy?"
"Your mommy?" the man asks the child. "Was your mommy here when the fire started?"
"Silly, my mommy was the fire."
"What?" he asks, choking on the word as it flew from his mouth.
"My mommy was the fire. She got this really pretty necklace, with a birdie on it. She called it a pheee-nix."
"A phoenix necklace," Lattimer nods, walking towards the little girl. Now this was weird.
"Uh-huh!" she smiles again, her almost-silver eyes sparkling. "She said that I was supposed to stay here, and not move. At all. Then, she went downstairs."
"Okay. How about you, are you okay?"
She grins, standing up and throwing her arms around Lattimer's neck. "Fine! I want to leave."
"Sure thing, sweetie. I'm going to see if we can find your mommy first," he smiles at her.
"Okay."
"You're going to sit here a little bit longer, okay?" he asks.
The curly haired brunette nods, plopping back down onto the bed.
"What's your mommy's name?"
"Mommy."
Lattimer smiles. "What do other people call your mommy?"
"Kelli," the little girl answers.
"Thanks," he winks at the child, and walks from the room, heading to the stairwell at the end of the hall.
"Who are you?" a female voice asks hoarsely.
"Lattimer, I'm with the D.C. Fire Department," he looks around for the voice. He opens the door to the stairs, and steps back as he takes in the scene. "Ma'am, are you Kelli?"
"Yes. You met my little one?" she asks, looking up at him through burnt bangs. "I need you to promise something."
"Ma'am, you'll be fine. We'll get you and your daughter out," he assures her.
"No," the woman shakes her head. "There's no way to fight this." Her fingers wrap around a pendant on a silver chain. "It's going to happen again. This will be the last time. I can't fight it anymore. Take my baby, and get out."
"Kelli, ma'am, it'll be fine," Lattimer says, holding his hand out for the necklace. "Tell me what happened."
"This, this thing, that's what happened," Kelli snaps. "My baby," she moans, "my poor baby. Growing up without her mother."
"That little girl has a mother; she has you. I have a feeling that she can't lose you."
"I can't survive any longer," the woman says, her head snapping up, looking Lattimer in the eyes.
The breath catches in his throat. Her eyes were a deep orange, appearing to be on fire themselves. "It's happening again. Get her out; get my baby out of here. Now!"
She screams, and light radiates from the pendant. She drops it, cradling her hand. "Now. Save her."
Lattimer steps towards the woman, and then turns around, running towards the child's room.
"Mister!" she grins, hopping up. "You're back. Can we go now? Did you find Mommy?"
"No. Sweetie," he says, putting on a smile as he picks her up, "We're gonna go outside. Maybe your mommy already got out."
"No," the girl shakes her head, stormy eyes sad. "I can tell. She couldn't have."
A scream comes from the stairwell. Lattimer grimaces, walking faster.
"Is that my mommy?" the little child asks, turning in his arms. "Mommy? Mommy, where are you?"
Lattimer starts jogging, heading down the stairs at the opposite end of the hall. A rumbling sends him tripping.
He braces himself, making sure not to jar the girl in his arms. "Lay down, sweetie."
He leans over her, taking off his heat resistant jacket and puts it over her. He covers her head, and lies on the floor next to her.
A large explosion ka-booms through the former hospital. Lattimer gasps as a piece of shrapnel hits his back, embedding in the lower portion of his back.
The girl whimpers. "What's happening?"
"You'll be okay," Lattimer assures her. "What's your name, sweetie?" He asks, drawing in what could be his final breaths.
"Myka," she smiles at her name. She looks up the man who saved her. He wasn't moving. Scared, she repeats herself. "I'm Myka."
Lattimer doesn't reply. His weight on top of her was more than Myka had ever imagined. She crawls out from under him, heading towards the door.
Another man comes in, and picks her up, setting her outside. She watches as more men in yellow jackets enter the building with hoses.
"Find him!" she demands. "He saved me. Find him."
A dark-skinned woman comes, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He died."
Myka bursts into tears. "No."
The woman kneels next to the young girl. "He did. You must accept this."
"Go away! You're mean," the child crosses her arms, pouting.
"I'm honest," the woman smiles at Myka's antics. "My name's Mrs. Fredric."
"Hi," Myka mutters. "I'm Myka."
"I know," the African-American woman answers. "Come with me, Myka. We'll find a new mommy and daddy for you."
Myka follows the woman, scared of everything that had just happened. She sits in the dark-colored car, with Mrs. Fredric.
They drove, and drove. Myka fell asleep, wishing that she didn't remember any of this. She didn't want to know that her mommy died, or that the man who saved her died. She didn't want to remember any of that.
Mrs. Fredric looks down on the child curled up in the backseat.
A buzzing noise fills the backseat, and the woman opens a gold-colored box. A screen not unlike a TV screen appeared.
"What happened?" the man asks, his curly hair sticking up at all ends.
"Arthur," Mrs. Fredric tilts her head. "Quiet."
"All of my equipment told me the building blew up! What about the artifact?" Arthur Nielson asks frantically.
"Arthur," Mrs. Fredric scolds. "The girl is asleep."
"Girl?" he asks.
"Her name is Myka. Trust me, Arthur, she's important."
"It's not like she can grow up in the Warehouse," the man argues.
"I'm taking her to Colorado," Mrs. Fredric answers. "She's important, and her mother is dead. We can't take care of her, Arthur, but we will need her in the future."
"But, can Warren Bering take care of her? You know that he's horrible with kids," Arthur points out.
"Jean can help."
"Jean, you mean his former partner Jean?" he asks.
"Yes. Arthur, they don't remember anything about Warehouse 13, due to the frequent use of the floating moon rocks from 1969. Since they are now married, they will be perfect for this girl. She needs the type of upbringing that will be useful for us in the future."
"Don't you think this is a little overboard? I mean, grooming kids to become agents?" he asks, setting down his communication device. "Who's going to be her partner?"
"I already know," Mrs. Fredric replies.
"What's his name? Have they ever even met?" Arthur asks.
"His father just saved her life," the woman answers, staring at the sleeping child. "But, she'll never know that. I want one of the moon rocks shipped to Colorado immediately."
"You never told me his name," Arthur reminds her before she hangs up.
"Lattimer. Pete Lattimer."
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