The day was a cold miserable one; much the same as the mood cast over the Colorado cemetery. Pete stood in the rain as the minister began his speech. His jaw was clenched tight, as he tried to pretend the wetness on his cheeks was just rain; only it wasn't. He was trying to be strong for the others, like she has always been, but he couldn't. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear her chuckle, "You're fighting a losing battle there Lattimer." and almost feel the playful punch that would have followed it.
But he would never hear that chuckle again, there would be no more sisterly jabs to the arm; He never thought he could miss a person punching him, so much. Shaking his head, his eyes noticed a figure standing apart from the other mourners. The sight of Helena Wells enraged him. he wanted to charge over and demand to know where she had been, why she hadn't been there. His temper cooled as if ice had been poured over it, as he already knew the answer s; she simply hadn't known.

Myka had hidden her illness from them all. it wasn't until she went downhill at a frightening pace that he found out.

As he walked upstairs, Pete shifted uncomfortably. He'd been having a steady niggling vibe for nearly two months. His musing was abruptly shattered, as he heard a crash from the bathroom, followed by a low cursing.
Running up the corridor, he knocked insistently, "Hello? Hey, you okay?"
Myka's voice was strained when she answered, "Yeah, Pete. I'm fine."
Opening the door, he saw his partner curled up on the tiled floor; she looked like hell. The other agent had become distant of late, and had been spending more time either archiving or hiding in her room reading. The short time they had actually seen her, she had managed to hide the fact she was deteriorating at a rapid rate.
Crouching to her level, Pete asked, "Mykes, what's wrong?"
Frowning, she tried to push him away and stand, only to be hit by another wave of agony and falling. She would have hit the tiles again had Pete not caught her, "Woah!"
Slumping in his arms, Myka whispered, "You can't tell the others... Since Leena... You just can't tell them okay."
"Tell them what?" His partner was like his sister, and to see her in pain made his chest ache, "What's happening? Is it an artefact..."
With a wry smile, Myka shook her head, "Nothing so exciting. I've got cancer Pete."
There it was, that word, it drove the wind out of him, "What...? How...?" The rest of his sentence came as a series of incoherent breaths.
"They tried treating it, but we just caught it too late." Keeping it together, she managed to finally voice the truth, "I'm dying Pete."
"No." Picking her up, he took her to her room and carefully tucked her into bed. Straightening, he headed for the door, "I'm not just going to let you lie down and take this Myka. We'll find something! I promise."

They did find something, an artefact which could have cured her; but when they got back to the B&B they were greeted by Dr Calder. The older woman had tears in her eyes and she merely shook her head. Myka had deteriorated so fast. There had only been two days between him finding out, and the end. Part of him was angry at Myka, had she told them sooner they could have fixed it; done something... Letting his temper cool again, he reached out to Claudia. The young woman pressed her face against his chest, crying hard.

As they moved away back towards the cars, Pete looked back to see Helena crouch beside the grave. Letting go of Claudia, he remembered the letter in his breast pocket.
There had been one for each of them, sitting on Myka's bedside cabinet. But one remained in her notebook, scarcely finished. From the way Myka's notebook had been pushed off of the bed, he gathered she'd flat lined just as she finished the writing it.
Careful not to interrupt the inventor's moment alone, Pete remained at a respectful distance until Helena looked up. Wiping her eyes hurriedly, she tried to impose a facade of calm over her features. Not that it would do her any good, her eyes were still red from what looked to be days worth of crying. "Peter."
He winced, there was no accusation in her tone, but he couldn't help the surge of guilt. In his rush to get the Warehouse team to look for a possible cure, he had completely forgotten Helena. It wasn't until he saw Myka's letter he remembered. Since then he had carried a sickly feeling, had Helena known... he couldn't go down that path right now. It would only lead to the bottle.
"You came."
It was disturbing to see how defeated the normally fiery Victorian was, she breathed, "Of course I did."
Wincing again, he nodded, "Yeah, of course, sorry."
Nodding, Helena looked down to the grave, "It's just... Why didn't she tell me? I could have helped, I would have been there in a heartbeat..." Biting her lip, Helena's hand went to where her locket used to hang.
Pete knew she wouldn't find it, because it was with the letter in his pocket, "Um, Helena, she wanted me to give you these."
Pulling out the letter and locket, he cautiously handed them to her. Turning to leave, he paused, "She loved you, you know."
Kneeling as she read the letter, tears began to pour from her eyes, "I know."
With a final, awkward, nod, Pete left Helena to her grieving.

Dear Helena.

I'm sorry.
I know that's hardly the best way to start a letter, but it needs to be said. The events leading up to this left me so confused and afraid , I hid this from everyone I cared about; I just didn't want to hurt you.
I've written to the others, letters of goodbye, and thank you. I managed to write each one without falling apart, but Helena this is my seventh attempt. I've never been good with goodbyes, especially when it comes to you. Not to sound melodramatic, but I think with every goodbye we've shared, I've left parts of myself behind.
Believe me, I know my timing is appalling, and it'll only make things worse; but I couldn't die without you knowing- or at least having put actions in place for you to find out- I love you. I always have. From the first moment we met at gun point, to the last. Even in Yellowstone when you were pointing that damned gun at my head, I still knew.
I must ask one of you Helena. Be who you truly are. A wise and also slightly psychotic woman once told me, don't walk away from your truth. Please don't walk away from yours, the warehouse is part of who you are. I know you said you wanted a normal life, but Helena, you're THE HG wells. The warehouse are going to need a new agent, if you'd cover for me I'd owe you one.
You taught me so much Helena, about myself and about the world. You are the most intelligent, beautiful, mad and brilliant person I ever had the privilege to meet.
I am afraid I must cut my letter short, I think this is it, and Helena, I'm not afraid; not anymore.

Forever yours
Myka.

P.s. How do you say goodbye to the one person who knows you better than anyone else?

Clutching the letter to her chest, Helena felt the heavy sobs wracking her frame as she whispered, "I wish I knew."
Fumbling with her locket, she placed it over her head. It felt heavier than before, stroking the familiar metal with a sigh; she paused to consider her options. Looking over to the Warehouse agents huddled together for comfort, for the first time in months she acknowledged the gaping hole in her chest. Looking down, she chuckled through her tears, "You're right. As always." Sighing, she shook her head, "I know I've been deluding myself. I should have been here, with the Warehouse; with you." Dropping back into a crouch, she sighed, "I know you'd be furious with me for dwelling in a realm of what if's; but Myka I can't help it." Running her hands through the grass, she whimpered, "I wish..." Rolling her eyes back, she breathed heavily, "God I wish for so many things, but here I only wish you had told me. We might not be here if..." Her throat tightened and the rest of the sentence died. Giving herself a moment, she waited until her breathing had returned to normal, or as normal as it could through sobs, "But you are right. I belong with the Warehouse. I'll go back." Her head hung heavily, "I only wish I'd realised this sooner. I should have come back with you after the mission with the Hyena jaw bone." Rising to her feet, she wiped her eyes again, "I'll come back to see you soon; I promise." Taking a hand full of dirt, she sprinkled it lightly into the hole, "I shouldn't have stayed away. I am so sorry Myka."