Myka frowned as she sat curled up in one of Leena's patio chairs. It was night, the stars shone vibrantly, and it was completely peaceful but she couldn't sleep. The events of the day troubled her.
While it was true that Eric Marsden's people loved him so much that they'd break the law for him, the fact was that they had broken the law. She wanted to go by the book and send them to jail, but Lattimer had said no. And then, once she looked closer, she couldn't bring herself to do it either. That feeling of love, of compassion and care was what she wanted. And it was the reason why she'd picked up the phone.
But what hurt the most was her conversation afterwards. She drew her feet closer to her chest. Her father had never been the kind of man to gracefully accept changes in his life. The birth of a daughter instead of a son was, to him, the worst betrayal ever. Even if she had made the honor roll, graduated valedictorian, received a medal for the disaster in Denver, it was never enough.
Her father had listened to her for all of one minute as she tried to talk to him, before he hung up. The fact that he didn't even want to know her when she was growing up and that now, as an adult, he didn't value her occupation stung. It didn't hurt as nearly as much as Sam's betrayal of her (how could he sleep with her when he had a fiancée), but it still hurt enough to make her wonder if being on the other side of the country was far enough from him.
Myka sighed, reaching for another low-fat, no-sugar oatmeal raison cookie. Logically, she knew that there was nothing else she could do, that she couldn't force her family to accept her decisions to continue working at Warehouse 13, but that didn't mean that she always had to be rational. She wanted to be loved.
Suddenly, Myka stood up. The bank teller had said that Marsden's song had made her feel loved. Pete had worn a goofy, happy smile after he'd been blasted at the FBI headquarters and he'd even managed to flirt with every woman in sight. Myka wanted, needed, that feeling of happiness and adoration.
Half an hour later, she'd finally found the case in the warehouse. She grabbed it and headed to Artie's office. The man had been nowhere when she'd first pulled up and she had given up looking for him once it was apparent that he was wandering around somewhere. However, she did need his office. It had a record player.
Myka marched up the stairs and set up the old Victorola. Inside of Bering & Sons, her mother used to play music on an old one. Myka had learned how to operate it on those days when she worked there.
Sitting down in one of the creaky wooden chairs, she waited for the music.