Disclaimer: Warehouse 13, its characters, story and all that jazz obviously do not belong to me, even though I love them as they were my children.
Author's note: this is my second fanfic and yes, it is still fluff because my brain doesn't want to process all the angst and pain. And yes, English is still not my mother tongue, so please be kind with me. I hope you enjoy this one!
It is still cold for being spring, even for Colorado Springs. There is still snow at the side of the road and under the hedge in the back garden. And that's the reason Myka hadn't looked for Helena outside in the first place. She should have known better: the time traveler must have seen far colder winters, in London and in the bronze.
So she finds her sitting on the first step of the back porch (all the old furniture has been stored in the shed for the winter), her hands gently closed around a steaming mug of tea, her eyes lost somewhere probably way beyond the withered garden. Myka closes the back door behind herself and sits beside the woman, as always too close because that's how they've always done.
-I'm sorry I brought you here at my parents' house for this stupid retirement party, it was selfish of me. All this people and family and Tracy! She's killing me, I swear, she keeps bugging me about the baby and where is Pete and mom has already told me a hundred times how charming you are and how I really need to get my hair fixed otherwise you're gonna leave me. I shouldn't have forced you into this family meeting...
Helena just watches her blurt out all the words with a small smile on her lips.
-When I was a child we rarely had family meetings. I hardly remember having more than one or two gatherings for the wedding of some of my cousins, but those were always such formal occasions that the only thing that I distinctly recall is how itchy my dress was. I stopped attending those when I reached the age it was acceptable not to and after my parents died nobody cared to invite me any longer.
-You didn't like it?
-Not even a little. I disliked my relatives deeply, such puritans- she says with a pinch of disgust in her voice -Once I convinced my younger cousin Laura to steal two pairs of pants from Charles and go climb the cherry tree in our summer house, but she fell and broke her leg. I was forbid to play with her since then.
Myka smiles: it sounds so much like her and Tracy.
Her hands are getting cold and she starts rubbing them. When Helena notices she sets aside the cup she's holding and takes Myka's hands in hers; her palms are warm and so is her smile. When she speaks Myka's voice is softer.
-You see that old shed near the hedge? My grandpa built it when Tracy and I were kids. There is a narrow space behind it, a sort of tunnel under the leaves, and in summer it's the perfect hiding place because it's cool and humid. I used to hide there to read, but my sister kept following me because she wanted me to play dolls with her. So once I took with me a branch I had found in the garden and I used it as a fencing sword to make her go away. I didn't really hurt her, but my dad got so mad at me when he found out I kept books on the dirt...
Helena's hold tightens softly around her hands.
-I like being here - the inventor says slipping an arm around Myka's waist -I like knowing who you were before the secret services.
-Well, I could tell you a whole bunch of stories about my teenage years if you want to go in my old bedroom- Myka says with a mischievous grin spreading on her face -I think I still know how to lock the door without using the key.