Title: Abyss
Author: LadyNRA
Rating: PG 13 to start, R for some graphic scenes later on
Spoilers: Post "MacPherson" (Season Finale)
Characters: Myka and Pete to start with
Genre: Drama/Angst and some Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer: The producers and Syfy may own it but I'm taking the time to play with the characters for a little while.
Summary: Artie is killed in a explosion after being trapped in the umbilicus. MacPherson takes off, leaving Pete and Myka to pick up the pieces.
Author's Note: I'm not even sure how to explain this story structure since it's a bit different than what I've done in the past. Let's just say that after the season finale where Artie is killed, there were many discussions on the forums theorizing 'if' and 'how' he survived. The prevailing theory by fans is that he used an artifact called "The Phoenix", which was shown in the finale, to save his life. Note that the Phoenix always takes lives after saving the life of the user. This is my response to what could have happened…
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Prologue:
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A massive explosion rocked the platform, sending artifacts careening off shelves. Any loose item on desktops rocked or toppled to the floor. The cacophonous booming of the umbilicus linking warehouse to outside world began dropping thirty feet down to the warehouse floor leaving billowing flames and black roiling smoke in its wake.
Myka Bering screamed. Not a cry of terror but one of horror and pain and unbearable loss. She knew what went on in that tunnel, knew who was still in it. She had, after all, read the stupid manual and knew how it all worked. The external access doors had foot thick plating lower into place. The door on her side had done much the same thing, effecting sealing off the platform. There's been no escape for the man trapped inside. She was certain of it, and it tore her heart.
She crumpled briefly against the door, fighting back tears. Sobs threatened to pour from her throat, already raw from screaming Artie's name. Pete briefly pulled her toward him, taking her into a powerful embrace which nonetheless failed to comfort. He released her within seconds and began to fight the door, struggling to get it open. When it finally yielded to his assault, they were both greeted by tongues of fire curling in on them from the remnant of the umbilicus wall. Where it was still attached to the brickwork of the office, thick slag continued to bubble from the intense heat, dripping down into the depths.
Dumfounded and dazed, both Warehouse 13 agents glanced down into the semi-darkness. Smoldering debris lay thick and heavy, casting a crazy and incomprehensible motif of shadows and pseudo sunlight.
"Do you see…?" Myka whispered, tears already falling unheeded and unrestrained.
Leaning over as far as he dared, Pete Lattimer tried to force his eyes to function like x-ray machines, to pierce the darkness and rubble below. To look for signs of life even though he knew there wasn't the proverbial snowball's chance in Hell that anyone could survive such a calamitous event.
When he finally answered, his voice was husky with grief. "No. Nothing."
They looked solemnly at each other and then peered down again hoping for signs of movement or to hear a voice calling for help. It was a vain hope and they knew it but searched for it anyway, clearly still experiencing some denial.
Myka struggled to suppress another choked sob. She knew the procedures. Knew what went on in that umbilicus. Could envision, with frightening clarity, the man trapped inside, hearing the count down and knowing there was no escape. Did he panic? She wondered for all of a second. But a part of her already knew the answer to that. He would have faced it with either calm acceptance or fatalism but either way there would have been no screaming or cowering.
For her, this was yet one more loss in a string of painful losses and it was almost too great to bear. As a secret service agent, she was as strong as they came but at that moment she was weaker than any newborn. She hadn't just lost a coworker. She'd lost a friend, someone who she cared deeply about, the father figure whose company she could enjoy. The source of sage counsel when she needed it. The reliable one now that he'd learned to be a bit more open with them both. A man crusty on the outside to cover the pain of many losses inside. Together they'd grown to understand each other. Finally. And now he was gone.
"Artie," she moaned softly. She turned to her partner. "Oh Pete, I can't believe this." Her voice gained strength, the driven agent within her already striving to bring order to the chaos swirling around her. "We need to go down there. Find a way out of here."
"There's an exit, supposedly." Pete continued to look down as if by the force of his gaze he could resurrect the dead. "See, I do listen now and then."
When she didn't respond, he gripped her shoulders and turned her away from the yawning chasm below them. "Sounds like a good idea, yeah?"
"The man with the plan," she agreed fisting his shoulder lightly. Normally she would have grinned at him but there was no smile left in her. Somehow, she doubted there would be for a very long time.
It took her several moments to get her legs moving properly. They felt rubbery and the knees threatened to buckle with every step. Taking in an achingly deep breath, she got her body under control, straightened her bowed spine, and walked away from the disaster.
Both Pete and Myka had to step around Artie's collection of statues, antique swords and helms which had previously perched on shelves. Few things were broken but neither of agent had the heart to restore order. In reality, doing so would have been pointless. There would be time for that later. It would be the first step in the healing process. The second would be hunting down the man who'd done this to Artie. Myka knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they would track that animal to the ends of the earth if necessary. She also knew that which ever of them caught up to MacPherson first wouldn't hesitate to take him out…permanently…for what he'd just done. No Bronze Sector for him. No room for second chances. No doubt that he'd be out of their way permanently.
She honestly didn't know if Pete felt the same way but when she finally looked deep into his dark and haunted eyes, it was obvious that there were of one accord on this. Warehouse and Mrs. Frederic be damned. MacPherson was about to become the slug to their saltshaker. The roach to their can of Raid. Catching up to him would be difficult with Claudia banished from the Warehouse, suspected of stealing artifacts while under MacPherson's mind control. Myka suspected she'd been responsible for setting their arch nemesis free of his bronze tomb. That meant her help in rebooting computers wouldn't be forthcoming. Artie could have done it, she started to think, and her mind was instantly slashed through with icy knives as she realized that'd never happen now.
As more pain coursed through her, she knew they were truly on their own until help arrived.
Together, the pair went to the open deck of the platform and headed for the stairs that would take them down to the main floor.
