Disclaimer: Warehouse 13, the world and the characters that inhabit it do not belong to me in any way, though sometimes I lie awake at night wishing that they did and what I'd do with them if they did. And then I write those thoughts down.
A/N: A less angsty response to 4x15. ;)
Mercifully, they're down the street and around the corner before the tears start to slip free. They tumble unhindered over reddened cheeks and she can see them glisten in the reflection of the passenger side window as she watches the houses breeze by. She whispers silent goodbyes as they disappear from view, the words becoming a mantra that moulds itself to match the beating of her heart. The unspoken words quicken in a similar fashion, clamouring towards frantic, and it's not long before she feels breathless. Entirely helpless.
That's when a sob slips free. Quiet and strangled, but utterly unmistakable, and she can feel Pete turn his head to look at her.
"Mykes?" She doesn't answer, can't. If she opens her mouth to so much as breathe she'll scream, she knows it. Her heart is pounding in her head but it still isn't enough to drown out the goodbyes. The rhythm is maddening, building. She blinks, sees a far off reflection in the window that can't be real. "Myka?" His voice is louder, more determined, like he's been saying her name for a while now and finally she turns to him. His expression is concerned when she meets his eyes and she watches without really seeing as it crumples beneath the weight of full-blown worry. "Hey, it's okay." The watery smile she offers him isn't real, but she can't muster up the strength needed to wonder whether or not he knows. He reaches over to lie a hand atop her knee and squeezes as she reaches up to angrily wipe away the tears that won't stop. "It's not like we'll never see her again." But they're stubborn, and they roll right on by her fingers.
She opens her mouth to draw in a lungful of air in the hopes that it'll ease the dizzy, sick feeling, but it catches and she nearly chokes. The sob that leaves her this time is louder, wet and mournful, and Pete swerves as he reaches for her without thinking. He panics for a split second, pulls his hand away from her knee and returns it to the steering wheel to correct the tires. Something about his frantic concern serves to rip the flood gates right off their rusting hinges and suddenly she's openly crying in the passenger seat as Pete does his best to find a decent spot to pull the car over. She hears the sound of a seatbelt unclasping, but it's distant and vague like it's travelling through a thick fog. His hands are solid though, she can feel their reassuring weight against her forearms as he reaches for her across the console.
"Hey, Mykes, look at me." She manages it, but her head feels heavy on her shoulders in way it hasn't in a very long time. He presses his hand to her cheek and she feels a tear slip from her skin to trickle across the crease of his palm. "This isn't an ending, okay?" He means well, she knows he does, but his words are hollow and their weight is deceptively heavy against her chest. "It's just a new beginning for her. Who knows where it'll take her." And the more he talks the more they seem to weigh, until she's suffocating under them. Her hands start to tremble and she lets out a quiet gasp, before letting her head fall into her waiting palms and giving up.
She can't recall the last time she cried like this. So hard and freely, without an end in sight. She's certainly never fallen apart like this in front of Pete, in front of anyone belonging to the Warehouse, but she can't find the strength to be self-conscious about it. Not right now. Not when all of her remaining effort to going towards holding the fractured pieces of herself together.
But behind closed eyes she sees Helena's face.
Can still feel the press of her smaller frame as Myka held her close for the first time.
For the last time.
And it's just too much.
"Oh." She can almost feel it, it's almost tangible. "Crap." The moment things wiggle themselves into place and Pete realises. "I'm such an idiot." He's rubbing her arm but all she feels is numb. "I didn't..." No, she thinks, no one ever does. "Hey, don't- c'mere." He thumbs the release button for her seatbelt and awkwardly slips it from around her upper body, then pulls her close. Myka's tears are hot and wet and it isn't long before Pete feels a damp patch bloom against his shoulder. "Why didn't you say anything?" It's too hard a question to answer right now and she frowns, shifting so her forehead is angle down against his chest. She opens her eyes and spends a long few moments blinking through tears.
"She's happy, Pete." And for Myka, it's that simple. That's all she's ever really wanted for Helena; happiness. Peace.
She'd just really hoped she could be the reason for them.
"She's..." He's shaking his head, she can feel it in the way his chest trembles with the motion. "She's hiding, Myka." At that, she pulls back far enough to look at him and his hold on her loosens, hands falling away. He sits back heavily in his seat and lets out a sigh, running the palm of his hand over his hair. "I get it." He laughs, but it's void of mirth. "How could you not? After everything she's been through... she deserves to be happy." She remembers a time not to long ago when she'd wanted nothing more than his acceptance of H.G. It feels almost bitter sweet now. "And she might have that here but..." he trails off, gaze turning distant as he stares into the rear-view mirror. "It's not real. She wants it to be." And he shakes his head again. "But it's not."
Desperation swells within her, expanding and clawing at her insides until they feel raw and exposed. She runs her fingers through her curls and tries not to tug at her hair, but her determination slips and there's a sharp twinge at her scalp as they catch a handful of strands by their ends. She tilts her head to face him them, all watery eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
"I let her go, Pete." And it's that which perhaps hurts the most. Knowing that she'd had to. Understanding that she could.
She's said goodbye to Helena Wells, and bid farewell to that achingly familiar piece that slotted in so seamlessly beside her heart along with her.
And the feeling she has now is so different to that which had encompassed her in that Cheyenne woodland clearing. There, she hadn't had a choice. She'd fought and lost, but in the end the decision hadn't been hers to make.
This time she'd given Helena up. She'd let her go.
And the pain is far more profound than she could have possibly imagined. Each beat of her pulse is like a pick against ice, chipping away shards of her heart and sending them scattering. Soon enough, there will be nothing left.
"Then bring her back." He sounds so sure and her brow creases as she peers at him, confused. As though the words don't make sense.
"She's happy." She repeats, but somehow it's less convincing this time. Pete offers her a sad smile.
"But for how long?" He reaches out again, squeezes her shoulder. "How long until she realises this isn't who she is? Another week? A month? A year? You think she'll be okay when she realises she's been living a lie?" His eyes are soft, but the look in them is fierce and Pete might be a big pushover sometimes, but he can be passionate to a point that can get him into trouble. And she sees it now, the passion, lighting his face and setting his jaw, and she feels love swell abruptly within her. Because Myka's never had a friend like him before. One that cared enough to look at her like that. "You love her?" She feels her breath hitch at the unexpected question and holds it in as she nods, not trusting herself to speak. "Think she loves you back?" It takes a little longer this time, her lip trembles precariously as she tries to hold the words in, but eventually Myka nods again. His expression is grim around the edges then and it makes her stomach turn unpleasantly. "Who said you have to be the one to give everything up, huh?" But then it's okay, because he's smiling. That wide and encouraging Pete-smile that's gotten her through more than a fistful of rough patches, and his hand is turning the key in the ignition. The engine flares to life and Myka feels embers flicker inside her chest. He shoots her a look, then hits the indicator before pulling away from the sidewalk and spinning a single, quick, and very illegal U-turn. "It's your turn to fight, Mykes."
And the embers brighten.
And it feels a little bit like hope.