Author's Note: Hello, lovely Bering and Wells fandom. It seems I've finally managed to work up the courage to join your ranks. Anyway, this story is completely canon up through Emily Lake and most of Stand, past that there are bits and pieces from the beginning of season four, but mostly this story skips off in its own direction. I'll be updating once a week or so, bare with me a first the chapters in the beginning are ridiculously short. It happens in most of my writing at the beginning. Also the chapters alternate between HG's and Myka's POV's. I do believe that's everything. So go read. I do so hope you like it. And as always on this site reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or anything related to Warehouse 13. It's a very sad state of affairs.
Helena sat up gasping. She rubbed the sweat off of her forehead. Another dream. The same dream. How many times did this make now? She had lost count.
She sat up and fumbled for the switch on her bedside lamp. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt as if she were encased in bronze again, arms heavy and not responding to her commands. Something fell off her nightstand, thudding to the floor. She jumped and almost screamed. Finally, her fingers found the switch and the room flooded with light.
Her breathing eased and the heaviness left her limbs. She glanced over and saw what had fallen was the book she had been reading before bed. She put her head in her hands. She hated that darkness affected her this way. Most nights she could tolerate it, tell herself she was being a silly child. The nights when the dreams came were different.
She drew her knees up to her chest. Such dreams had become common since the day Skyes had almost destroyed the Warehouse. It was always the same terrifying thing. Her worst fears lain out before her.
It always started as they were walking into the Ovoid quarantine, the debate over how to defuse the bomb raging. The idea that had saved their lives never came, though. Gandhi's bodhi never seemed to cross anyone's mind. Instead, Helena had walked over to the breaker box on the wall and had started to fiddle with it. She found a flaw in the system that would save everyone…except her.
She felt the fear rise up again and hugged her knees harder to her chest. Even awake the dream was potent. She ran a hand through her bed mussed hair.
In the dream she had closed her eyes for a fraction of a second at the realization that there was no way she could survive and made a decision. Her hand set to work before her eyes had even fully opened. When she turned around, two arching cables in her hand, she looked at Myka, still hunched over the bomb, trying for all she was worth to disable it. She closed her eyes and smiled, touching the two cables together. Part of the barrier created by the Ramati shackle surrounded Myka, Pete, and Artie.
The group had looked up at her, shocked. No one really understood what she had just done.
"Helena, what are you doing?" Myka had asked, shoving Pete and Artie out of the way to look at her.
"It was the only way I could think to save you," she replied.
"But you're out there." Myka's eyes had gone wide.
"It had to be initiated from outside the barrier." She smiled sadly.
Pete and Artie had started to speak, but Helena hadn't heard them. She was solely focused on Myka. "I love you," she mouthed to the woman on the other side of the barrier.
She watched as tears collected in Myka's eyes. A pang went through her at the sight. She hoped Myka would be alright.
A sudden whiff of apples made her smile again. "I smell apples."
And then the dream dissolved into a ball of fire.
She shivered. Dreams weren't supposed to hurt, but her nerves still tingled painfully. She rubbed her hands absently to try and get rid of the pain.
She looked over at the clock. The red numbers stared back at her accusingly. It was nowhere near a decent hour to be awake. It would have to do, though. On nights like tonight she never got back to sleep. Staring at her ceiling for the next few hours did not sound appealing either.
She sighed and levered herself out of bed. If she couldn't sleep then she might as well get ready for the day, perhaps sequester herself in the library until everyone else was awake. She smiled at that. The smell and feel of books always calmed her.
She gathered a change of clothes and her toiletries and stepped out into the hallway.
