Happy New Year everyone! I vaguely promised to have the next part of this Bering and Wells story ready to view in the new year. I can barely believe it's here already! It's been slow going getting my thoughts together, but I finally feel like I'm making progress so I thought it was a good time to begin to upload.

I'm hoping to keep up with regular updates. Weekly if I can manage it.

Credit for the title to Rosa for your suggestion of 'The Bonding'. I streamlined it a bit, but I was completely undecided before reading your review!

Thanks to Aeternus Eternus for her continued support and friendship, and for always stroking my ego ;-) and to all the reviewers out there who take those extra couple of minutes to let me know what you think. You're all wonderful!

Really hope this continues to be enjoyable and that all the ideas in my head make their way onto my laptop the way I picture them, cuz my daydreams are pretty spectacular!

Chapter One

Myka stood looking over the balcony, peering out over the multitude of shelves that housed the Warehouse's numerous artefacts. She was no longer allowed to venture down to the Warehouse floor. Even if Artie, the Regents, Mrs. Fredrick and her fellow agents hadn't insisted that it was too much of a risk – letting a pregnant woman mix with the unpredictable objects – Helena's absolute insistence that they take every precaution had convinced her that she should abide by their caution.

Sensitive to her girlfriend... no, fiancée's fears, the lanky agent didn't want to cause her any unnecessary stress, though she was also determined that Helena wasn't going to make her sit around for the next seven months, doing almost nothing. She anticipated many bones of contention between them on that front.

A little over a month ago, she recalled feeling as though she could happily give up this crazy existence for a quiet life with her two favourite people, but as the reality of every day monotony caught up with her she began to chafe at the restrictions her colleagues and partner placed on her. She enjoyed research, especially research with Helena (and the inevitable distractions), but she itched to be in the midst of the action again, to chase down bad guys, solve cases on the run and neutralise wayward artefacts just in the nick of time.

Was motherhood going to be this dull? Helena seemed to think that she wouldn't have the energy to feel bored once the baby was born, but surely there would come a point when everything became second nature and life would begin to slow down again. What then? She didn't want her future to revolve solely around their children, no matter how much she loved them.

Such a strange life she led now. Standing there, looking over some of her accomplishments, Myka had to smile when she thought about her first few weeks on the job. How she'd scoffed at every last thing to do with the Warehouse and not even tried to hide her contempt for what she thought was a demeaning job; a punishment for some unknown crime, or perhaps, for failing to save Sam.

Now, she was engaged to HG Wells, pregnant with the Victorian's child, step-mother to the inventor's artefact-cloned daughter, and almost every part of her life revolved around something that had come from or was part of the Warehouse.

Thinking back to those early days, Myka was reminded that Helena had still been trapped in bronze and was torturously aware of her own inner demons and their insidious whisperings.

Could their beginnings have been different if she'd known then how much pain her idol was in? Would she have paid more attention to the alluring Brit's silent moments, asked about things that went unsaid, instead of allowing the older woman to distract her with sex?

It was so easy to assume that their lives would have been smoother, had they known then what they knew now. That they would have been spared so much pain and that everyone would have been better off if only they could have seen where the end of their loneliness and despair would come.

There was simply no telling what would have happened with that knowledge though. Perhaps they would have made their commitment long ago; perhaps those boys in Egypt wouldn't have died; perhaps Helena would never have shared anyone else's bed; perhaps they would have rescued Christina sooner, but there was no way of knowing and thus, no point in dwelling on the what ifs.

What mattered was that they were happy now and it behoved them to appreciate these moments as they arose.

Leaving the balcony, Myka returned to Artie and Claudia's office, the only place she was really allowed to work, other than at home. She preferred working here though, despite the perks of being at home and always close to her lover; it gave her a change of scenery and helped her concentrate on her task. At home, she would hear Helena and Christina playing their 'learning games' (as HG called them), and when Christina was occupied, Helena thought nothing of spending her time seeing how long Myka could ignore her before they fell into a heated make-out session. Though she treasured the opportunity to witness the adorable scenes between mother and daughter, and she loved fooling around with her fiancée, the environment was not conducive to being productive.

Claudia immediately bolted from the adjustable chair that she loved to play in (when Myka didn't need it) and swung it round to offer it to the older agent.

"Lady Bering, your carriage," the red head offered the seat with an exaggerated bow.

Myka rolled her eyes but smiled gratefully. "Thanks Claude. Ever since the morning sickness kicked in, my back seems to be taking all the strain, and I'm not even showing yet." Sighing with relief as the new ergonomic addition to the office hugged her in all the right places, she looked up at her colleague. "I dread to think what I'll be like in seven months."

In her usual hyper manner, the young IT whizz dragged Artie's swivel-chair over and straddled it so she could fold her arms across its back. "You'll be finer than fine. We're gonna take such good care of you, you'll be wanting to pop out little baby Bering-Wells geniuses every year." Myka gave her such a horrified look at the thought of that scenario, that Claudia recoiled a little, her chair rolling to safety, propelled by her feet. "Or not."

Turning to the desk in search of something useful to do, Myka shook off the uncomfortable feeling. "I might actually be looking forward to this... unexpected addition now, but I highly doubt it's something I'll ever do again." She picked up one of Artie's files from his 'case in study' pile and began flicking through it, unaware of Claudia's changing expression.

Somewhere during their conversation, the feisty red head became aware of what her friend was wearing. Feeling puzzled, she stared at Agent Bering's hands and frowned. "Is HG so paranoid that she's got you wearing purple gloves all the live long day? Or are you shooting for some sort of girl-love birth control? If that's the case, I think you're a little too late to start worrying." She chuckled to herself, sticking her tongue out when Myka rolled her eyes again. "So what's with the oh-so-fashionable Warehouse accessories?"

Blushing now, Myka smiled, already anticipating Claudia's reaction to her news. "Well, Helena has asked me to wear them while in the Warehouse, but I was hiding something too." She chuckled a little at her young friend's sudden acutely focussed attention. "Ok, Claude, just try to keep the squealing below ear-splitting volume, alright?" Slowly she removed one glove and then the other, all the while watching the red head's expression.

"O-M-HG Wells, what a rock! Myka! Huge squeal!" Claudia propelled her chair hard enough to crash into the desk and both woman chuckled as they held down piles of papers that threatened to avalanche across the work surface. When they were fairly certain that they'd saved Artie's research, both agents breathed a sigh of relief. "Seriously dude, you have like the best girlfriend... sorry, fiancée."

"It's actually an interesting story..."

Myka launched into her explanation of how she'd bought the ring as a teen and only returned it to the inventor after discovering that it had been intended for her. As she then described how Helena proposed to her, Claudia could no longer contain herself and performed an impromptu happy dance before collapsing on the couch with a goofy grin on her face.

"You guys are too cute. I've been overloaded by sugary cuteness." After a minute or two of babbling nonsense, Claudia sat up again. "So when's the wedding?" she asked, the moment she finished gushing over Myka's story. "I think yours truly will make an awesome wedding planner. Don't you agree?"

The pout that followed the younger woman's declaration brought a fond smile to the senior agent's face. "I'm afraid Christina beat you to it, Claude. But I bet she wouldn't mind having you as her understudy," she teased.

Claudia shrugged and pretended to think about it. Nodding slowly, she indicated her approval. "I think I could manage that."

"It'd be a weight off my mind actually. She's got grand ideas and Helena does nothing but encourage her." Eyes narrowing, she peered seriously at her young friend. "I know you will probably go overboard too, but at least you're aware of my comfort limits."

With a sharp salute, the techie fixed her position as assistant wedding planner. "Check boss. No princess style or Comic-Con dress up themes. Classic meets minimalist and just a touch of Warehouse topping."

Myka frowned. "Warehouse topping? Claudia, tell me you're not considering using an artefact to... jazz up my wedding."

"Pfft!" The red-head's hand moved through the air in dismissal. "As if I would do that."

Narrowing eyes said that Myka didn't quite believe the young woman, but she didn't say anything. "We're not sure of a date yet. Helena wants to get married in London, which means we either put a rush on everything to tie the knot in March, or we wait a few years until this one," she put her hand over her belly, "Is out of diapers and old enough to travel with, without too much carry on."

Streaks of red and blue tilted to one side as agent Donovan's thoughtful face came into play. "You could always do both," she finally commented with a shrug.

"Get married twice?" The brunette questioned sceptically.

"Well, lots of people renew their vows. It could be like that. Or you get married in London and then have the 'wedding' back at home." She threw her hands out wide like it was that obvious.

Myka continued to frown as she thought it over. "I don't know. I get nervous enough just imagining doing it once, let alone twice."

Through her excitement and growing exasperation, Claudia turned once more to her friend and adopted a serious expression. "Myka, think about it. You can have your small, intimate ceremony with just you, HG and little CJ," she paused to let the older agent picture this scenario and saw immediately the interest that rose in those intelligent green eyes. "Then when it comes to standing up in front of everyone, you'll have already done the hardest part, it'll just be a matter of letting everyone soak up the excess Bering-Wells love and score hoards of presents."

Gradually, a small smile graced the brunette's features. "That's actually not a bad idea. I mean, other than the hoards of presents, though I'm sure Helena and Christina wouldn't mind. They both enjoy being the centre of attention." This time the eye roll was of fond exasperation. "I'll see what Helena has to say about it. Trying to convince her to tone everything down will be a challenge."

"I'm sure you could think of some way to persuade her," Claudia winked, feeling smug for her contribution.

Before either of them could make any move to elaborate on the idea, the door to the umbilical opened and in shuffled their harassed looking boss. Claudia took one amused glance at him and turned back to Myka with a mischievous expression. "You totes have to have the wedding party here; we absolutely have to get him into some formal wear. Preferably something that's not, shudder, brown."

Watching Artie almost collapsing under the weight of the box he held and seeing that Claudia was making no move to help, Agent Bering stood and moved automatically toward him to take some of his burden. Bushy brows drew together and disapproving eyes honed in on her.

"No," he barked in his usual no-feelings-spared manner. "Sit. You!" He turned to his young protégé. "Get out of my chair and make yourself useful."

Shooting Myka a look of apology, the red-head bounded across the room. "Keep your pants on Grumpy Bear." She huffed out a gust of air as the weight of the box felt into her arms. "Jumping Jedis Grumps, what have you got in here? It weighs a ton."

"Just put it on the desk!" the director puffed with difficulty from his end.

"It won't crush the desk?" Myka wondered aloud as she continued to watch them struggle, feeling helpless.

Two sets of lungs let out long, relieved breaths. "No," Artie grumbled. "It doesn't weigh anything now nobody's touching it."

Feeling ever more curious, the brunette looked back and forth between Artie and the mystery box. "What makes it heavy when you touch it? Where's it from?"

"Guilt. It's a confessional seat from the Vatican. The more guilt a person feels, the heavier it gets." He leant back in his chair and appeared thoughtful for a moment. "Christina could probably pick it up, no problem."

Claudia whistled. "Mental note; don't let HG try to pick up that box."

Myka nodded her agreement. "It must be pretty powerful if you can feel the effects through the box."

Turning towards his desk in search of something, Artie grunted. "It is and it isn't. It all depends on the user, or victim rather. The guilt of thousands over hundreds of years has made that seat into an artefact. It crushed the maintenance guy who tried to remove it; he was a veteran of some conflict and participated in raping and pillaging through several villages and was never punished for his crimes. I'm going to have Leena and Pete move it to the Catholic aisle. Once it's on the shelf and so long as we don't need to move it, there should be no problem."

A thoughtful silence filled the room for several minutes as each of them reflected on this story and their own guilt. Eventually, Artie gave Myka some research that would keep her busy most of the afternoon and Claudia several tasks that he expected would keep her busy and out of trouble for a month or more.

Tomorrow was New Year's Eve and they all had the next three days off, baring emergencies, to enjoy the end of the holiday season. Myka wanted to wrap up every last task from Artie before heading home for the day so hid herself in the seldom used library while leaving her two colleagues to bicker as usual.

Time passed swiftly as she delved into one file and then another. There had been a number of disappearances from a props warehouse in Hollywood and Pete had been the first to volunteer for the job, dragging Steve along with him in the hope that 'a bit of glam and glitter' would pull the reticent agent out of his funk. Agent Lattimer had taken it upon himself as 'straight best friend' to be Agent Jinks' wingman. Much to Agent Jinks' dismay.

So far they had nothing to report, and since no one else had gone missing, there wasn't much for them to do other than to keep researching. Artie had already called both agents home, but Myka knew that Pete wasn't going to miss an opportunity to spend a (sober) night out on the town with his best gay pal, even if Lila, Artie and Steve were likely to kill him when he got home.

At five o'clock Myka had packed up and was bidding the still bickering pair in the office farewell. There was no more overtime for a pregnant agent with a child and fiancée waiting at home for her return. In the past, she had relished any opportunity to continue working, feeling miles more confident in her career role than her private one but, most of the time, going home was now the highlight of her day.

Pulling up behind Helena's car and killing the engine, Myka thought back to her morning conversation with Claudia and smiled as she grabbed her bag and made her way up the recently shovelled path to the wreath-laden front door. As she pulled her key from the lock and finally stepped into the warmth of the house, two familiar voices cut through the air, carrying with them the sense that all was not well in the world of eight-year-olds.

"Regardless of what you desire, my darling flower," HG's forcefully patient tone came from just beyond the top of the stairs. "Like your own, the birth of Jesus is celebrated but once a year, and now that the day has lapsed, we must all return to the dull, humdrum of everyday life, sans Christmas decorations. I suggest you enjoy them while you can, love."

Eyeing the direction of that voice, Myka realised that it was getting closer and approached the bottom step with a half-amused smile, waiting to see her lover's appearance. No matter how bratty their daughter sometimes got, Helena's patience was almost endless.

"But it isn't fair, Mummy!" A petulant voice proceeded HG's arrival at the top of the stairs.

"It rarely is," the inventor muttered to herself just before she spotted Myka and began to descend to the ground floor. "Hello, Love. Have you come to rescue me and bring some sanity back to my day?"

In her introspective mood, Myka saw her lover's descent in slow motion. Deft fingers of the Victorian's right hand, stroking the handrail; her shoulders sloping gently beneath a casual shirt, each meeting to form an elegant length of neck that was irresistibly kissable; ebony hair dancing close to a refined jaw that, even in her darkest mood, Helena held high, poised and daring her observer to challenge her.

Forest green met mahogany brown and fell into one another. As Helena stopped on the last step, for once looking down on the American, Myka released a breath she didn't know she was holding. "I think watching you walk down stairs is my new favourite thing," she confessed before giving her brain time to process the thought. HG chuckled and the younger agent blushed, her gaze immediately falling to her toes.

Helena placed two fingers under her fiancée's chin and lifted those expressive eyes back to her own. "Flattery will get you everywhere my dear." Strong fingers surrounding a leonine neck, HG pulled Myka's lips to her own and claimed them.

Sighing into the kiss, the brunette's hands reached out to find purchase on a toned waist and pulled just hard enough for the Brit to take that last step and slide into her arms. The inventor's upper limbs wound purposefully around her shoulders, hands and fingers gripping gently to the back of her skull to hold her in place as lips parted in silent invitation.

A loud and deliberate cough broke their oblivious tranquillity and both women pulled back reluctantly, their eyes promising unknown heights to one another as they parted and welcomed a pouting girl in their midst.

Christina's shorter, skinnier arms replaced her mother's around Myka and she buried her head into the hollow of her sternum. "Hello, Mama," she greeted, her voice dramatically subdued.

Myka smiled as HG rolled her eyes. "Hello, Sweetheart." She tightened her hold on the girl just slightly and kissed the top of her head before leading her into the living room and collapsing on the couch with her. "What's with the sad voice and why are you torturing your mother?"

"I want to keep the lights and decorations up; they're ever so pretty, Mama. Why do we have to take them down? Wouldn't the house look nicer if it was sparkly all year round?"

HG wandered over to the fireplace and stood watching her girls fondly.

"But if we leave them up all year, they won't be special any longer and they'll lose their effect," Myka attempted to persuade the stubborn girl.

"That's what Mummy said," the eight-year-old commented into her Mama's shoulder, sounding as if she wasn't at all convinced and was disappointed that her step-mother shared the inventor's opinion.

Glancing in sympathy at her partner, Myka then shifted slightly to look into puppy-dog eyes. "Well, Mummy's right, Sweetie. I know it's a bit sad, taking everything down and saying goodbye to Christmas for another year, but then we can look forward to Spring and make new decorations for the new season." Watching the pout give way to interest, she continued. "I'm sure Mummy has told you this already too."

Interest now turned to guilt and Myka was reminded of the box sitting on Artie's desk. "Perhaps," Christina admitted. She laid her head back down on the taller agent's shoulder and looked through her eyelashes at her mother.

HG's brows rose with amusement. "Ah, the look of remorse," she observed, moving across the room to settle next to the seated pair. She picked the girl's feet up, placed them on her lap and ran her nails over the sock-clad soles, eliciting a series of brief twitches and giggles.

Struggling in vain, Christina glared indignantly at the older Victorian. "Stop it, Mummy!"

Hearing a challenge in the girl's tone, HG's eyes narrowed ominously, her long fingers reaching for known weak zones.

Christina squealed and climbed onto Myka's lap to escape the gleeful torture she knew was coming. HG's stretching arms reached for her and with practised grace, the girl rolled off the couch and scooted to safety. Her eyes were bright now with excitement, waiting with keen anticipation for the chase. Her gaze flicked towards the door as her mother slid off the couch with the same ease of movement.

Myka watched as, cat-like, her fiancée stalked their child, moving to try and block the exit. She saw Christina's gaze dart again to the door and, quick as a flash, the two Wells women were a blur of movement.

Peals of laughter rang through the house, erasing all memory of tantrums and sorrow. Myka let her head fall against the back of the couch and listened to the happy chaos for several minutes. Eventually, Helena returned, with her prey slung over her shoulder, short bursts of giggles still bubbling from her prize.

Depositing the wriggling lump back on the couch, HG sat in front of her, trapping the girl against the cushions and grinning triumphantly at her partner.

Myka tried to pretend that HG's antics were not at all amusing, but the expression on the inventor's face brought first a faint smile, and then a full grin, until she was chuckling along with the muffled snorts coming from within the cushions.

It was a good day when tears could be turned into laughter and as Helena finished putting Christina to bed much later, Myka heard a faint apology and soft words of reassurance following her from the girl's room.

She met her lover in the library, a cup of tea waiting on the table and convincing flames flickering from the faux fireplace. With a mug of decaf coffee between her own hands, Myka leant her head back against Helena and stared across the room, listening to her partner as she read.

A nice calm start. :-)