Disclaimer: I so do not own these characters that I have borrowed from SyFy, yet even in their 'loaner' state I've tried my best to preserve the way you've come to know them.

A/N: I originally wrote this story between Dec. 2013-Feb. 2014 and to this day it's very dear to me so when you read it keep that fact in mind. Moving along, this story is written in first person POV and it begins with H.G.'s POV for now. I'll let you know when that changes to Myka's because it will and if you don't like that then...pfft!

-:[Wax & Wane]:-

(~Phase One: New Moon~)

London, 2010...

Meeting at gunpoint; the thrill of it all, which was quite enchanting for me. Though I suspect the added excitement to the situation was because it accompanied some of my very first breaths of freedom in more than a hundred years. And then she rounded the corner; Myka, and I was rendered powerless from letting my eyes appraise the commanding woman advancing towards me. Was she ever my type. And had she been born in my time not even the queens command would have prevented me from perusing her.

Seeing those intense green eyes engage my own, as her feeble partner cowered under my steady hand, and I knew in that moment I had chosen poorly, but I quickly changed my method. Not surprisingly, I found I rather enjoyed daydreaming how I would seduce her for my mad endeavor, because I realize now how absolutely close to lunacy I was: the less than sane manner of my thoughts, the bitterness I clung to as the years passed slowly in my bronze tomb.

My most lucid of reasoning at the time was I felt I was entitled to my revenge, no matter the penalty or cost. And needless to say my awakening was not to as grand a vision as I had hoped, no modern utopia had arisen in my absence, I was rather disappointed when I opened my eyes to the new world, and found it lacking.

California, 2010...

Tracking Myka and the young girl Claudia wasn't a challenge per se. I spent quite a few weeks trying to acclimate myself with this new time; learning the technology of this age, and I was pleased to find I'm well suited for computers. The internet-a wealth of knowledge at your fingertips, one simply just needs to know how to look.

My best laid plans are all I have left in this world, and to get back in the good graces of the Warehouse it's going to take winning the favor of Secret Service Agent Myka Bering. Gathering information on her proved to be quite a good read, although it didn't provide me with any substance that my charms would work on her. I didn't truly test the waters back in London during our encounter Pete was an all too easy target.

This time I chose to present myself to Myka and once more I was taken aback, then even more so when she proceeded to choke me up against a wall. I know I wasn't in any real danger; due to her morals, but a threat remains a threat and Myka is that and more. Especially after reading her file, I must say I was quite impressed by the multitude of languages she is fluent in, as well as the fencing, which I must say I find rather dashing and I imagine she would perform it with power and grace. All in all, I deemed her a worthy opponent.

I admit I was instantly smitten, but I chose to ignore those impulses. During our first conversation when she was being rather cavalier in her actions about what I removed from the Escher vault, her words surprisingly stung and they were not supposed to. I was indignant and genuinely put off, thus I defended my actions and told her the unabridged truth; the truth about my daughter. Speaking about her always hurts, and the fact didn't escape me that I quite quickly divulged this personal information to Myka, someone I didn't really know, aside from what I read on paper.

I surprised myself by how vulnerable I was being and mostly because it was not a part of my act, I was speaking from a place of purity and Myka responded in kind. Then as if by kismet, I was forced to use my grappler to save her life and mine of course. At the exact moment I pulled Myka into my arms I thought how fortuitous that this would only serve to reinforce my good intentions and to make her blind to my true ones, and indeed it did serve to further my cause. But then I began to flirt with her after the danger had passed, and to my delight she responded, thus I knew success was within my grasp.

Moscow, 2010...

Myka continued to be rather adept and open to flirting with me. Of all the moments in the early stages of our...God, I don't even know what to call it. My favorite moment was when she flirted with me over slipping that tracking transmitter in her pocket, and I adored that she did it right in front of Pete, the both of us oblivious to the world around for a few seconds. And after the success of the Russian mission Myka vouched for me, and I stood outside Artie's office listening to her ranting and worrying over my yet to be determined status by the powers that be. I couldn't help the profound satisfaction I felt went I heard Myka ask so brokenly if I had been bronzed again. At the time it meant I had succeeded in choosing the proper person to guarantee my re-entry into the Warehouse, but now I know it was something more.

But as per my usual, I flirted with her more and any fool could recognize she was quickly becoming very smitten with me as well. I could only smile back at Myka's relieved smile that she sent my way, and the way she was mesmerized by me as I stepped forward to thank her, I knew right then I had her exactly where I wanted her. An ally and strangely I felt something else, but I quickly dismissed it as a dormant longing for human contact reawakening after my debronzing. However, being accosted by Artie did hurt somewhat, but only in the means that I felt he saw right through my actions; as if I were transparent, and he saw me for what I was and what I was going to do. But seeing Myka run after him in an effort to get him to make amends for what she saw as an unfair slighting, a fear crept into me in that moment; one I hadn't felt in a long time.

Warehouse 13, 2010 (the usage of my time machine)...

I actually settled into the routine of the Warehouse and for a time I put aside my plan, and then came the mission that called for the use of my time machine. I felt the hand of fate like no other that day, had I not been bronzed I would never have met Myka, nor would I have been able to help her retrieve the glass knife artifact. By this time I had lost all semblance of reigning in my own affections for her, quite boldly I caressed her hand as her mind was off in 1961 and I couldn't help but wonder if she could feel my touch, I had completely forgotten Claudia was even present, so I shifted my attention nervously to Pete. When Artie purged the system and rendered my machine useless, I was outright frightened I might actually lose Myka, so much so I almost couldn't comprehend a proper fix for a few seconds to shout at Claudia's retreating form. And then that sudden and familiar feeling I was growing accustomed to, engulfed me once more, but only with Arthur standing watch over me with a primed Tesla was I able to dismiss it again.

Egypt, 2010...

Some much needed centering and distancing finally allowed me to set my true purpose into motion, but still I knew hurting Myka was in turn going to hurt a part of me now. However, all I had to do was take a look at the world that surrounds me now, and the disappointment I felt brought all the old anger surging to the surface again; it was what pushed me back to some unfathomable depth that resides just under my skin. I recall now with great frustration losing myself in one of the traps inside Warehouse Two; a mind trap that dangled my one true happiness in front of me-my long since passed daughter. And when Myka freed me from that pleasant oasis I was angry all over again, it fueled me to do what I set out to accomplish and I did so with great relish. But looking back, a chink in my armor persisted when I blatantly asked for Myka's forgiveness right before I shot her with my Tesla.

Yellowstone, 2010...

I wanted to kill everything. But mostly I wanted to kill the festering madness inside me to find the peace I've longed for. So I drove that trident into the ground with all the fury in my body, hoping it would drown out Myka's desperate pleas and smother the turmoil threatening to drown me from the inside out. Myka was right though I did want her to stop me at this point, more than I cared to admit even to myself. I was rather like a train; its course once set at full steam takes miles to slow and may even crash through a great many barriers before it comes to a grand destructive halt.

I knew I was well and truly conquered when she pressed that retched gun into my hand, and demanded that I put a bullet between her eyes. My hands shook and my heart twisted in my chest at the thought of killing her, so with a scream akin to a losing battle cry I sunk to the ground, and shook from the emotions that finally overwhelmed me. I will always be haunted by those profound green eyes, how they tried and succeeded in revealing the truth of my buried goodness, which Myka was so certain still resided in my soul and she was half right.

Also I would be remiss to admit I also felt a sense of freedom in my surrender, even as I was marched out of the Warehouse in bonds. Still it was like letting go, it was as if I had been hanging from the edge of a great precipice for so long my hands had melded to its stronghold, and the act of breaking free hurt but there was peace in the fall.

"These are very interesting and arresting thoughts, Ms. Wells." Dr. Mason says as he closes the cover on my journal or what I would have called it in my time-a diary. "But I expected no less from someone of your caliber and experience, and I do appreciate that you took my assignment to heart."

I acknowledge him with a polite nod, while crossing my legs and quietly considering the man before me: Mid to late forties, he has a pleasant oblong face, that is adorned with rather unremarkable features save for the grey making its presence known at his temples and throughout his light brown hair. His pale blue eyes are enhanced by a well-groomed close-cropped beard that draws the focus to his unique eyes. And finally his bland wardrobe of pressed charcoal slacks, brogues and sweaters that unfortunately only enhance his slightly roly-poly midsection. And admittedly, I oddly find his muddled British accent rather soothing. I only agreed to this therapy because if I'm to truly function in society this must be done, and I cannot hide any longer as Myka so ineloquently phrased it not too long ago during a very heated discussion.

"Ms. Wells?"

I mildly startle out of my assessment of this man and smile at him, "Apologies, my mind wanders a fair amount lately." I say while uncrossing my legs and then leaning back further in the leather settee. "But to answer your observation, I feel its redundant to point out I merely did as requested and wrote the truth as it happened to the best of my memory, which there certainly is nothing remiss with it."

Dr. Mason sighs, "Ms. Wells, may I call you Helena?"

I nod my acceptance and he continues, "I knew you would be a challenging patient; one that I gleefully accepted for many reasons along with my respect for who you are, which is someone you are free to embrace now. So once again I do appreciate you completing and taking seriously for that matter, the task I asked of you after only a few sessions, along with the candor you employed within these pages." Dr. Mason says as he rests his hand upon my journal. But even though his words were spoken with the utmost respect, it takes everything in me not to snatch the small leather-bound volume out of his hands at how trivial and unhinged I suddenly feel under his scrutiny.

Dr. Masons shifts in his chair and lays my journal on the small table between us, "But now it's time to open a dialogue about a long standing issue with you and of course the predominate focus of your writings- Myka Bering."

I feel my eyebrows rise on their own accord, "I'm of the mind that its quite plain and obvious what I once felt for her." I say tersely. "And I never acted upon because it would have been improper, but mostly due to the shame I feel on reflection of how poorly I have treated her far too many times."

Dr. Mason quickly scrutinizes me with his eyes, "Succinctly put Helena and accurate, but you used the past tense when describing your affections," He says thoughtfully. "And we both know those feelings are as strong as ever, and yet another thing you are hiding from."

I inhale sharply, but I will not lose my temper with this man even though he is deliberately trying to provoke me.

"I have a functioning adult relationship with a nice man..."

"A man you live with and to do so you promptly lied to in order to maintain said relationship." Dr. Mason interjects. "Even though you had to, given your station, and yet you expect him to care for you, while ignoring the facts that he doesn't know who you really are, and frankly can never appreciate the person who he ignorantly invited into his home."

I clench my hands into fists and take a deep breath, and in the span of two breaths I relax them against the settee's cushions quickly.

"I'm fully aware that I charmed myself into Nate's life; mostly because of his daughter, and I realize how hideous that sounds when a person says it aloud." I reply somewhat morosely, while smoothing my hands against the cushions beneath me.

Dr. Mason considers me for a moment and I rather feel like this is a chess match, "Helena did you truly want to escape the Warehouse, or did you just want to escape Myka?" He asks while twisting his pencil around his fingers on his right hand. I feel myself flush with anger towards this man, but I remain silent because our sessions are fully sanctioned by the Regents for full disclosure; both ways. "I feel compelled to point out based on your file that your previous superiors provided, you had more female lovers than male ones, so I can easily deduce you had no problems with affections toward your own sex." A part of me feels so exposed in this moment, but all things considered nothing he has said has been false thus far, so I choose to continue reining in my brewing anger. "But I fear back then for you it was only a distraction; you've never had a real relationship have you Helena?"

I close my eyes and then as if my unspoken prayer is being answered, I hear the increasingly familiar faint chime on Dr. Mason's desk which always signals the end of our session. So I move off the settee and while standing I adjust my leather jacket.

"It would appear as though we are out of time." I say rather sarcastically. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm needed back at work this afternoon."

I feel Dr. Mason's eyes on me as I turn to leave his office, "Don't forget your journal." He says and I stop just shy of my hand on the lever for the door, and turn back towards his voice. "Also I would like for you to keep writing in it Helena, anything that you wish to be free of; think of it as a confessional." Dr. Mason adds politely, while offering my book back to me.

I quickly cross the room and snatch it from his hand, the action makes me feel like a petulant child, but as I open the door to leave I feel the weight of his unanswered question hit me. Standing in the doorway I look back at him; now standing by his desk, waiting, knowing, and in spite of myself I answer him.

"I will continue to write as requested and to answer your deductive observation...no." I say softly, before gently closing the door behind me.

I straighten my coat again as I exhale loudly; walking down the carpeted corridor my eyes scan over the doors that lead to many doctors housed within this establishment. In its comforting monotony it reminds me of a science fiction film I watched on the television not too long ago; only instead of a vast white hallway adorned with innumerable doors, it's a warm beige no doubt chosen to soothe a person subconsciously and of course has no more than seven doors.

Arriving in the waiting room I notice others, I cannot say if they are like me, although I find that notion highly unlikely. But the one thing we do share is waiting, I imagine we are all waiting to find the answers that cut into the real bare bones truth hidden behind self-imposed walls, which is a concept I know quite intimately. I also know such journeys are never easy and are seldom taken.

Soundtrack:"And Fools Shine On" by Brother Cane, "Rose Of The Devil's Garden" by Tiger Army, "Wars" by Hurt & "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Volbeat