I've been absent from the fanfic world for a while.
I sat down to watch the season finale of Warehouse 13, finally.
Steve Jinks just died.
I paused it at the commercial break, took about 3 minutes to finish sobbing, then logged on here.
I have not been so inspired in a long time. If they bring him back to life or something, I am going to be SO MAD.
Please, enjoy. Review!
Off to finish...

He was dead.

Slumped backwards in the chair, head hanging over, mouth open slightly. Eyes open. Pete froze for a moment, unable to breath, unable to think. Slowly he stumbled backwards, clutching at the wall. Steve Jinks. His friend. His brother. A hero. Dead.

"Pete? What's wrong?"

Myka's voice was hazy, far away, but for her he forced himself back. Forced himself to look over at her. He couldn't put them through this. Couldn't let them see this. He wanted to find Sikes, find him and make him pay. Had to make him pay. Blood thundered through his ears, his throat, his wrists. Why was he the one with blood still pumping through his veins?

"Nothing. They're gone. Let's get back to the car." He raced down the stairs, trying, trying to get away from it, away from the sight, away from the memory. After everything, after all the danger they'd gone through, it wasn't Artie, physically the weakest, or Myka, always in the most danger, or Claudia, who took the most risks. And it wasn't him. It was the nerdy kid, the one no one was sure was good enough, the one who had been there for the shortest, the one who had volunteered for this suicide mission. He was the one who paid.

"Pete? What's wrong?" Claudia repeated Myka's question, more accusatorially. And he saw the fear in her eyes, saw the fear in his beautiful, precious baby sister's eyes, and knew he had failed her. He was her best friend, too, he couldn't forget that role. He had failed him and he had failed her. But he couldn't, wouldn't let her see it. He would protect her, at least, from that.

"I said get back to the car!" he ordered, and to his own ears his voice was raw, furious, and they wouldn't buy it for a second. But he couldn't control it, couldn't build a damn against the fearangerguiltpain building up, overwhelming him. He was going to cry, going to break down, and he didn't want them to see it.

"What happened?" she asked, quietly now, and the fear was so real and powerful he could taste it, and it bound him to the spot, held him there, held his gaze.

"Please," he whispered. One last try. His voice broke. "Get back to the car." There was a moment where he hoped, where he prayed she would obey and he would be left with that image in his head but as the only one with that image in his head. Then she was gone, bumping into him, moving it seemed in fast forward. He wanted to chase after her but now Myka was looking at him, begging and pleading in that silent, perfectly flawed way she had. He couldn't find Claudia, he couldn't take Myka in his arms, he could only meet her eyes and wait.

Wait.

Claudia screamed.