Chapter 1: A tough wake up

A/N: Well here is my first Warehouse 13. So hope it goes well. This story will mostly be a mix of romance/drama/scifi/angst. Main character being Pete and Myka, and dealing with Pete's past. Tho the whole team will be in.

This story hasn't been beta-ed so all mistakes are mine.

Summary: Set after Reset. Myka has left the Warehouse, but worrying news made her rush back for a friend in need. Pete/Myka, angsty romance dealing with Pete's past.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, besides the characters I've personally created for this story. Warehouse 13 belongs to the SYFY channel and its creator.

small addition...thanks to Kjay99 for some remarks, I've made the grammar changes, so hope it works better this way.

Her breath was short and strained as she ran. Her steps echoed heavily on the ivory tiles of the huge hall, while her glock banged against her tigh. Suddenly she stopped dead, her gun rose before her in a perfect stance ready to shoot. There was no trace of the man she was after. Once again he had vanished, but knowing the luxury hotel and that all exits had been locked under her command he had to be here. Myka looked behind her shoulder, checking if any members of her team had followed her, and sighed. Once again she was alone, and obviously they hadn't reacted as quickly as she had thought. She shook her head and stared in front of her, her arm extended as she aimed her gun at the greek statue decorating the center of the hall. She bit her lower lip, half expecting to see Pete rushing in at any seconds with a boyish grin and a goofy excuse for being late. Though he had always acted like a kid around her, he had never let her down, never. She cursed, unlike her current team.

But Pete was far away tonight, too far to help. She had left the warehouse five months ago, and now she could only rely on the team she had been assigned to. With Dickinson gone, the new chief of the secret services had assigned her to some small mission of VIP protection, which hadn't bothered her at all, but the teams he had given her, well that was the real problem. All three of them had failed her criteria on being reliable. And tonight had been good to test that fourth team. She sighed, her eyes focused on the shadows made by the palm trees against the walls. From experience, it was always in the unexpected places that a killer would hide, and right now it could be those trees. Her brows knitted, her sight staring at the trees. No movement. Everything was still. She bit her lower lip and for the hundredth time she wondered if she had been right to leave the warehouse and her friends. To be honest she missed them.

A faint clicking sound on her right instantly brought her back to reality. She had to focus, she couldn't afford to think about that right now. The guy she was after had attempted to kill Senator Garrison a few minutes ago, and she could bet he wasn't about to give up that fast. Which meant that if he had the opportunity to kill an agent he would without even sweating. When you wanted to kill a senator, what was the life of an agent worth anyway? Her lips tight, she silently circled the statue, her back to the wall as she approached a parallel corridor. She hated those moments when she was waiting for backup to take her plan into action. And with this new team, she had no way to know if they would be smart enough to find where she was. She sighed, considering the panicked voices she could hear in her earplug, they were still looking for her upstairs and hadn't bothered to check the trail she had left towards the main hall. She shook her head in quiet anger. Unlike Pete and his vibes, who would have tried different approaches, even the less conventionals and sometimes the most dangerous for himself, but he would have made sure to find her. She smiled at the thought of her ex-partner and his dislikes for rules. Though she had always wondered why a man like him had joined the marines which were full of them.

A whimpering grunt echoed from the end of the corridor, and her heart skipped in her chest. Carefully she tugged her 9mm to her cheek, ready to aim it at the guy. From what the secret service had found on the man, he had a contract on the senator and it would be greatly appreciated to capture him alive. They needed to know who wanted the senator dead. With caution, she quickly picked a look at the corridor, and spotted a shadow hidden behind two giant yuccas. She shook her head. These killers were just too predictable, hiding behind a tree too thin to hide them. Again this one had enough brain to set a plan to kill a senator but obviously not enough to have a backup plan working out efficiently. But then it would just be easier for her.

But another sound on her left made her react instantly. A shadow emerged from a small alcove she hadn't noticed and she plunged instinctively on the ground. Quickly she rolled on the side as a trail of bullets echoed near her ear. Adrenaline pumped into her veins as a silent burn on her left biceps warned her a slug had probably grazed her skin. Putting away the pain, her eyes locked with the shadow hiding now behind the statue. Without thinking she aimed and fired twice. She was about to take a third shot when the shape crumbled on the floor. With a deep breath she stood up, her gun aimed at the form on the ground. She had aimed at the shoulder and the guy should be alright. Unless he was built with his heart on his right shoulder. She frowned – which now that she thought about it could happen if he had some kind of artifact switching the organs in the body. She shook her head with a deep frown. No way. Why was she still thinking about those things? Her life was simple now. She had left the warehouse, and all this was her past. What were the odds this guy had an artifact and she could see Pete or Artie rushing in? Zilch, none. No chances. She sighed deeply, somehow the knowledge of this impossibility made her sad.

From afar she heard her new team mates rushing inside the hall, and in the next seconds the place was crawling with guys in black suit, and earplugs. She cracked a small smile as she stood up and looked at the man who had tried to kill the senator. She smiled inwardly. She was still a good shot, she noted as his shoulder was bleeding while he was pulled up by Tom and Charlie, her new partners for the last two months.

"Good work, Mick," said Tom as he gave her a wink.

She sighed. Obviously, Tom had a very hard time to catch up on how to pronounce her first name. She huffed slightly. At least Pete had got it at their first exchange, well not really the first, but he had never tried to piss her off all the time like Tom. "Get him to the headquarter, and don't forget to call a medic. We need him alive!"

Charlie shook his head. "We know our job, agent Bering. Don't need to be bossy!" he added as they pushed their perp back toward the exit.

She widened her eyes. Two months with these guys and none had given her the benefit of the doubt, always thinking she had come back in the service because she was rejected in her previous assignment. She sighed. Well, maybe they were right. After all she had left because she had failed the team, right? The team. The word remained on her tongue like a bitter taste. Which team was she talking about now? The one she was in or the one at the warehouse, her adopted family? She sighed and from the corner of her eyes, she watched as an agent helped an old man to sit near the yuccas, tugging the tape from his mouth and around his wrists. It hadto be the one she had taken for their perp. Their man had probably placed him there to distract her. She let out a small sigh. Well it had almost worked.

Still deep in her thoughts, she slipped her Glock inside its holster and tugged at her black jacket tiredly. A small frown grazed her face as her phone went off.

"Bering," she answered tiredly without checking the ID. It had to be the job, after all, besides Pete calling her every two weeks to stay in touch no one else had ever bothered to call her on this line. Though she had to admit that right now she would enjoy having Pete calling. She looked at her watch. 7:31 PM, too soon to be Pete. Usually he called around 11 PM. She shook her head again, wondering why on earth it mattered so much for her to have him on the phone right now.

She glanced at her left arm as a medic started to take care of the wound. She nodded as he pointed at her jacket, and she began to peel off her clothes.

"Who's there?" she repeated exasperated after few seconds and no voice coming. She sighed, there was definitely someone on the other side as she could hear the breathing. "You either talk or I hang up," she lashed out with anger. This week had been hard enough not to just throw everything away. But then, her heart skipped in her throat as an old voice spoke.

"Myka?" said a baritone voice slightly trembling.

"Artie! Hey! It's great to hear you." Quickly, she dismissed the medic that had started to clean the wound. Obviously it was superficial, a small dressing and a couple of Tylenol and she would be done with it. Her mind now focused on her old friend, she headed toward the exit. Her car wasn't far, and there she could get a quiet conversation with him and ask why he was calling though she had an idea about it.

"You know," she kept going. "If you called to ask me to come back it's no, so don't try." She finally reached her car. She looked around; the flashing blue lights of the police cars lighting her black SUV. She smiled inwardly. Somehow that car reminded her of Pete and the great time they had together. She sighed inwardly as the thought helped her settling down her anxiety. She opened the driver's door, ready to jump in.

"It's Pete, Myka," blurted out Artie.

What? She instantly froze, her hand still on the doorframe, while the other was pinning her phone to her ear to be sure she had heard him right.

"What do you mean, it's Pete?" Her heart raced in her chest and her blood rushed to her temples, making her slightly dizzy. The thing she had dreaded for two years had happened. The warehouse had finally claimed one of them, and this time it was Pete. Oh please, no. Make him be okay. She silently prayed.

"Pete..." Artie's voice trailed off.

She could hear the uncertainty in it. That wasn't Artie. For him to be unsure meant only one thing, but her heart refused to believe it could be possible. That Pete could be gone. "Tell me is okay?"

"I can't, Myka," confessed Artie.

"What happened, Artie?" She jumped behind the wheel, and slammed the door shut behind her. She was too stressed to keep her voice low and no one needed to hear her next question. "Is he...?" She swallowed the hard knot formed in her throat. "Please tell me is gonna be okay?" she said almost pleading her old friend to lie.

"I'm sorry, Myka," replied Artie. "He needs you. He..." She heard him hesitate, but then he spoke again and her heart shattered in pieces. "He's dying, Myka," he finally dropped, his voice low and filled with sadness.

She tightened her lips, a silent tear glistened at the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. "I'll be in the next flight."

"Good."

She hung up, and her fingers tightened around the wheel. He's dying... echoed Artie's words. She closed her eyes and with all her strength, she took a deep breath and turned the key. The engine roared angrily as she stepped on it, and the sound mirrored her pain. Her eyes stuck on the road, she led the car in the direction of the airport. This was definitely the worse week of her life.

xxx

The tires of her rented SUV screeched on the concrete as she parked in the BnB's alley. Her fingers tightened slightly around the wheel as she took a long breath and closed her eyes. Pete's dying. She shook her head, those words had haunted her all the way to the BnB, and now after almost eight hours of flights and driving, she was finally back. Back where she had left her team, left Pete, left her new family. She looked up through the windshield, and gazed at the dark starry night welcoming her. Why did she have to come back to this dark news, why? She sighed. Because she could say anything about Pete but she was as stubborn as he was, that was why she hadn't come back until now.

With a deep sigh, she opened the door and jumped on the pavement. The heat coming from the desert of South Dakota hit her face and brought her back to the first day she and Pete had arrived here, meeting Leena for the first time. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the memory. Her lips tight, she slammed the door and headed toward the entrance, her heart now racing in her chest. All the way she had turned and turned Artie's words in her head, hoping he was wrong, that Pete was going to be all right. That all of this was a horrible joke. But unfortunately the part of her brain, the one Pete always called reason and wouldn't loosen up, had not reassured her. It had painfully stated that if Artie and Claudia, the best genius she had ever met on earth, if neither of them had been able to help Pete, then how could she? She swallowed back her fear. And then it had struck her. Maybe Artie hadn't called for help? Maybe she was going to see Pete for the last time? To say goodbye while he would depart for another world. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she stood in front of the door, her hand held in the air but unable to knock.

She closed her eyes, praying that all of this was a nightmare. She had missed the warehouse and Pete, though she wouldn't admit it to him, but she hadn't stopped thinking about them since she had left. Not a day had gone without her thoughts drifting back to him and their incredible work. In two years of working with him, she had more fun and more insurance that he had her back than with anybody she had worked with, including Sam. She opened her eyes and the door before her was still Leena's bed and breakfast. This was real, painfully too real. And when the door finally opened and Leena's sad face appeared before her, her eyes red as if she had been crying all day, then, it suddenly hit her. Myka realized it was true: Pete was dying, and she wasn't going to wake up soon. No, the nightmare was just beginning.

Without a word Leena offered her a warm hug and let her in. The smell of freshly brew coffee welcomed her, and her stomach twitched at the unusual hour of brewing it. It meant only one thing: they had kept a watch over Pete all night. A silent pain sneaked inside her heart as she recalled the same dreadful circumstances when her uncle Joe had passed away. She was only fourteen at the time but she clearly remembered the same deafening silence lingering in the rooms, the ticking clock swaying from one side to another and with each beat his life seeping a little more out of his body.

She sighed, realizing it was happening again but this time it was her best friend, not just an uncle she had barely known as a kid. No, it was the man who had saved her life more than once. The one she had left behind thinking she would get him killed one of these days because of her weaknesses. She stepped in, looking at the corridor bathed in a soft orange light. She had come as fast as she could. It was now 4 AM, and every normal life should have been sleeping, but not the warehouse agents, not when one of them was dying.

So yes, the BnB was strangely too quiet. Usually with Pete around, there would always be some animation but the lack of Pete's jokes was deepening the silence like a cold blade slashing through her veins, making this nightmare all too real.

"How is he?" she heard her weak voice spoke to Leena.

Leena tightened her lips as her hand gently stroke Myka's back and she pointed at the main room. Silently Myka headed inside, her steps now heavy and unsure on the wooden floor. She wanted for this nightmare to end right now. Just stop and wake up, please! Her mind pleaded in pain.

Half sat in the couch, Artie's eyes left the report he was reading as he noticed Myka. He raised a gentle gaze toward her as he stood up, his lips tight in remorse, a clear feeling of guilt lingering in his eyes. He was the one in charge of the warehouse agents. What had happened to Pete should have never happened. With a deep sigh he pushed back his round glasses on his nose, and welcomed her with a warm hug. It was good to see her.

"Artie? What happened?" she whispered as she broke their embrace and looked at him, her eyes pleading him to tell her that all of this was just a horrible mistake.

"It's complicated, Myka." He offered her a weak smile. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too. But where is Pete? What happened Artie? Is it because of an artifact? I mean it had to be, with Pete touching almost anything on a mission..." Her voice trailed off, stopping her flow of question as Artie bit his lower lip.

The older man watched her with a small smile, his eyes sparkling with an old memory. He had forgotten how fast the cold determined Myka could turn into a blazing storm when she feared for someone she cared. And Pete was the number one in her caring list, though she wouldn't admit it.

She nervously paced the room, her eyes darting anxiously towards him. Artie sighed as his fingers brushed back his dark salty hair. How could he tell her that Pete was dying by lack of... He sighed, no he couldn't tell her that. At least not right away. He stared at her. But maybe he should start from the beginning. He shook his head and waved to her to stop her nervous pacing.

"Please sit down," he said as he gently grabbed her arm to get her attention.

Her hazel curls dangled over her shoulders as a sad gaze fell upon him. "Where is he, Artie? I want to see him."

"It might not be a good idea, Myka. You need to know a couple of things before..."

"No!" she cut him off with more fury that she had intended. She frowned almost as surprised as he was of her sudden outburst. "Sorry, Artie. I just want to see him."

The older man stared at her. Somehow she too had changed in the last five months. First Pete and now her, his heart realized in pain. Could their separation be part of the equation? He tightened his lips and stared at the soft and sweet agent he had known for two years and that seemed to have vacated the place to be replaced by a bitter woman. He sighed inwardly. Well, all of them had changed since she had left. The team wasn't the team without Myka. The same way Pete had changed too. She locked her emerald eyes with him and he slowly nodded. "Okay, we'll talk later."

She let out a deep sigh as he finally gave up. Her friend passed before her, heading to the corridor.

"He's upstairs." He preceded her, his weight making the wooden stairs creaked slightly.

Swallowing her fear, Myka followed him. She was here for Pete. And whatever happens she would make sure she would see him before... She stopped her dreadful trail of thoughts. Hey, hey, hey, Myka! would have said Pete with his usual smile. You know this job is full of surprise, so no reason to panic... yet. A weak smile spread on her lips as she could picture him and his reassuring, boyish grin lighting up the room on his carefully chosen word: yet. Yes, nothing was certain in the warehouse.

As they turned in the stairs and made it to the next floor, Artie stopped right before Pete's room. "You know, Myka," he began, fiddling nervously with his glasses. "He's... He changed since you left and..." He stopped taking a long pause as he locked his eyes with her emeralds and put an arm half way before the door to prevent her going in.

"It's okay, Artie. I came to see him." Her voice was soft as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. "I've seen him in bad conditions before and..."

Artie swallowed. "Not like this one, Myka. Not like this." He tightened his lips but as she kept smiling gently, he finally stepped aside.

Biting her lower lip, her trembling hand turned the handle and slowly she pushed the door open. The hinges creaked a little as Pete's room bathed in a soft orange light appeared before her. Her gut twisted madly as she spotted the dark ugly things hanging on the walls and looking like cocoons escaping from one of Pete's horror movie. Some kind of long peduncle exited from those weird cocoons and were crawling toward Pete's bed and underneath the blankets. But what really terrified her was the fact that Pete was in the center of all this. The cocoons pulsed and glowed a yellow greenish light while they seemed to be sucking the life out of her friend with their deadly tentacles. As her eyes followed the dark tentacles from the cocoons to her friend, she met Claudia's glistening gaze. Sat next to Pete, her young friend stood up quickly and rushed toward her, her eyes filled with tears.

"Myka," sobbed Claudia, as she hugged strongly the former warehouse agent. "Pete is..." she started, but her voice died in Myka's blue shirt as the young techy buried her crying face in her shoulder.

Myka's arms tightened around her young friend, and suddenly the reasons that had made her leave five months ago seemed very futile and meaningless. Had she been right to leave? Was Pete dying because she hadn't had his back anymore? All those questions were still haunting her when Claudia broke their hug and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"He's delirious," she said, her voice filled with tremors. "With Artie and Leena we tried but..." A purple strand fell against her cheek and Myka couldn't resist to gently tug it back behind her friend's ear.

"It's okay, Claudia. It's okay," she repeated gently as she stroke her back. "Can you...?"

"Yes, yes I leave you two alone." Claudia took a deep breath, quickly drying her eyes with her hand, her black and colorful bracelets jiggling as they bounced together. "Gosh I'm glad to see you!" She glanced at Pete and then with a small smile on her face, she hugged Myka once again, and left the room, passing in front of Artie with a small sniff.

Myka's gaze followed her friend and met Artie's saddened expression which she was certain mirrored her own feeling of pain and guilt.

"We will be downstairs if you need us," murmured Artie before he closed the door.

Silence wrapped around her, and she turned toward the bed, her eyes searching for Pete. But from where she was, she could barely make out a small shape entrenched between the blankets. A soft whiz rose and then disappeared before starting again a few seconds later. Pain clenched at her heart when she realized it was Pete's weary breathing. As she approached him, her eyes settled on the blankets covering his body half way to his chest and rising in rhythm with his sickening whiz. At least he's breathing, her mind reassured her, at least he's alive.

Stepping closer, her heart beat faster while her mind was doing its best to deny the vision before her. The fragile man laid limply before her couldn't be Pete. He looked too thin and too skinny, too pale and too weak to be her tough friend, former wrestler and marine. But as she reached the side of his bed, and her eyes met the familiar pointy chin; the messy, dark brown hair spiking mischievously as if he had just played a prank, she couldn't deny it anymore: it was Pete. The nightmare was real.

Slowly, she sat on the empty chair next to his bed, and carefully grabbed his bandaged hand lying on the blankets. It was cold, too cold, her mind noted in dread as she wrapped his cold fingers between hers.

"Pete?" she called softly, staring at his pale and sweaty face deepened in a pair of white, fluffy pillow.

A strand of brown damp hair was stuck to his forehead, and she gently brushed it back, revealing his burning forehead beaded in sweat. She bit her lower lip, still staring with pain at his sleepy face, while her fingers lingered among his wet hair.

"Pete? It's Myka." Her voice was low and she was almost whispering afraid to hurt him more with her words, and that his frail body would break in pieces before her. That vision couldn't be true! "I came to see you, Pete."

Silence fell back in the room, and her ears only picked up the faint whiz of his weary breath. Her gaze lingered further on his body with pain, her detailed oriented mind noticing the faint bruises underneath his jaw and around his left temple; the pieces of white dressing matted with blood and protruding from the blankets, obviously wrapped around his chest; and the same white bandage covering entirely his right arm, a splint neatly dressed around that same forearm, while the horrible tip of a dark greenish tentacle had sunk underneath his skin. What the hell had happened to him? And why Artie hadn't unplugged these slicky slimy things that obviously were sucking his life. Anger filled her heart as she tugged on one of the dark tentacles, knowing that Artie had probably tried and her move was as futile as trying to stop a rushing tsunami. But then she stopped as a small growl escaped Pete's lips.

"Pete?" she called, happy he was waking up. "Oh God, Pete, it's Myka."

"Myk-..." his weak voice finally answered as his eyelids slowly fluttered open. But after few attempts, only two dark slits appeared instead of his eyes.

She let out a nervous chuckle as her hand gently brushed his damp hair, trying to keep his gaze on her. "I'm here, Pete." Cracking a smile, her fingers softly stroked his burning forehead, her crying eyes locked with the narrow openings. "I'm right here," she repeated with a soothing voice like the one her mother use to take when she was sick. He blinked tiredly as if noticing her for the first time.

"No..." He croaked. "You're not," he mumbled before his eyelids closed.

I'm not? What? "Pete?" she called in dread, realizing he was gone again. "Pete I'm real. It's Myka, I'm here. Pete, please stay with me, Pete!"

She watched painfully as his lips parted and a few words escaped. "I lost her..." He murmured, his voice filled with a tearing pain she had never heard before.

"Who? Kelly?" Her eyes widened. What did he mean? "Pete?" she called anxiously. Powerless, she watched as he slumbered back into unconsciousness, unaware of her restless calls. "Pete? No, Pete." Her voice echoed in the silent room, her eyes now filled with salty tears. Her fingers softly caressed his face, in hope of waking him up. But it was too late. He was gone again.

xxx

Artie was rummaging through several papers when he turned to the corridor, hearing small footsteps. After a few seconds, Myka finally appeared on the threshold of the main room, a look of defeat painted on her face. He sighed, he knew that look. All the team had worn it since Pete had been in this state.

"I want to know everything, Artie." Her resolute gaze met him, and he knew he wasn't going to escape her questions. "But the most important is: how can we save Pete?"

Artie caught the pain hidden in her green eyes and nodded with a deep sigh. He pointed at the couch. "It's gonna take some time."

"I don't care!" she stated coldly, her eyes glistening from the threatening tears wanting to break free. "Is it because of an artifact? I mean he totally denied me to be there. As if I couldn't come back for him. As if I wasn't real?" A feeling of hurt appeared in the depth of her eyes.

"Yes... and no," answered Artie as he slumped back in the armchair wearily.

Silently Leena arrived in the room and put down a tray filled with cups and a pot of coffee on the small table between them. His sight crossed hers and she nodded slightly. "I will stay with Pete while you two talk." She glanced at Myka and offered her a smile before she headed to the stairs.

Myka followed her, her mouth half open in a mix of pain and fear. Then, her eyes filled with sadness came back to Artie. "What do you mean? Is he sick because of an artifact or not?" Her gut twisted nervously at the dreadful answer. What if she was responsible for Pete's condition?

Artie sighed. "The artifact made Pete sick, but he's getting worse for another reason..."

A cold fear seized her heart. "And what might that be?"

"I believe he's strongly affected by the artifact because he lost hope." His eyes locked with hers while he offered her a grim look.

Hope? How could Pete lose hope? Her mind asked in shock. Pete was too full of life to lose hope. In any situations they had encountered he had always tried to cheer her up against all odds. Artie had to be wrong, Pete couldn't have lost his inner fire. It couldn't be that!

...TBC

A/N: Well hope you liked this. There's more to come if you're up to. (Myka to the rescue and Pete's past). So let me know what you thought of this with a review and if I should post more and regularly.

Have a great Sunday and thanks for reading!