Author's note: Just to say all the mistakes are mine, I do not own Warehouse 13 or the characters. Reviews are greatly welcomed and this may turn into a series if received well.

Helena opened her eyes, sitting up sharply from her dream. She tried desperately to remember what happened, but simultaneously didn't want to know, the tears streaming down her face enough to tell her that it was traumatic. Taking a deep breath, she tensed as a warm hand was placed on her arm, but relaxed as soon as she remembered where she was. She wasn't alone. Turning, she forced a smile to Nate, who looked tiredly concerned.

"Just a dream, Nate," she said, clasping his hand in hers for a moment, before settling down again on the pillow. Nate wrapped his arm around her waist, as per usual, and Helena felt content with the world. She really did. Why wouldn't she? She belonged here. Right? Hadn't that been what she had said to Myka – Helena stopped that train of thought right there. Physically shaking her head slightly, she banished the forbidden thought from her consciousness, letting the darkness take her again.

Myka woke, her eyes snapping open as she lay stock still on the bed. Her nightmare faded from her memory too quickly for her to catch it, but she had a vague idea of its content. Her meeting with Helena earlier had definitely thrown her, to put it lightly. Pete, when they were in the SUV, leaving Helena in the delightful suburbs had asked her if she was alright. Of course Pete would pick up on it, she thought with a smile. He was her best friend. She assured him she was alright, that she was happy for Helena. Pete nodded and pretended he believed her, knowing that Myka would only break under scrutiny. Pete had known about her feelings for Helena before even she did. They never spoke about it, but it was there; some strange understanding. Myka groaned quietly, rolling over and curling into a ball, waiting for the light to pour in through the window so she could distract herself with work.

Helena was serving up breakfast for Adelaide as Nate hurried out the door, pausing to hug his daughter and give Helena a quick kiss, before disappearing. Helena smiled after him, before setting Adelaide's plate down in front of her and sitting opposite, tucking into her own breakfast.

"Emily?" said Adelaide after a few minutes of odd silence. Usually the pair could talk for hours, as they were both similar creatures but Helena would have found the silence odd – that is if she had noticed; her head buried in the newspaper that she wasn't really reading, lost in her thoughts.

"Yes, dear?" replied Helena, looking up at the girl, who was pursing her lips, as if attempting to work out how to phrase her inquiry.

"You still haven't explained why you said your name was Helena. And who those two 'agents' were yesterday." Helena froze, her breath catching in her throat. She had managed to talk her way around the whole HG-Wells-Time-Traveller thing. It turned out she couldn't bring herself to tell Nate the truth, so she invented yet another past life to hide behind so she could continue her delusion of normality. Truth was, since she had invited Myka back into her life, she was discovering that she wasn't as happy as she thought she was. It was hard enough to lie to Nate, but to lie to Adelaide, whom – as Myka rightly said – she was beginning to think of as perhaps her own daughter, just every now and then. Also, the girl was extremely intelligent, and Helena had only added to the girl's arsenal of mental weaponry to see through her lies.

"That is a very long story. And you need to go to school," she said, hoping that would be the end of it.

"The principal has already received an email saying I won't be expected in classes today," replied Adelaide with a smirk. Helena couldn't help but smile a little at the girl's determination.

"I highly doubt your father will be pleased to hear that."

"He doesn't have to know. Just like he doesn't have to know that you're lying again." Adelaide said this so casually that Helena was beginning to wonder just how devious this child was. Helena was slightly taken aback by her gall, and very impressed. Adelaide was sitting in her pyjamas, her arms folded defiantly – she would not be moved until she got the truth.

"You're clever, what do you think?" asked Helena. She knew that in her current confused state, she could still run rings around the girl, but she almost wanted the girl to work it out, just so that she could stop hiding. And so that she could admit it to herself.

"Well, I think my previous deductions were correct. You have had adventures together. And you were very close, given the looks you two were sharing, and the awkwardness when she realised you were not alone, she looked a little crestfallen."

"Alright," Helena put down the paper and sat up, leaning forwards slightly towards the girl across the table. "I will tell you. You have to promise not to utter a word of this to your father."

"I promise," replied the girl, also leaning towards Helena, eager to hear the story.

Myka dragged herself out of bed and into the shower before anybody else would even think about getting up. If anyone was paying attention, they would have heard a slight sniff, perhaps a hint of a sob over the sound of the water running, but everyone else was asleep or too tired. And when she left the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, she passed Claudia, but the girl was too exhausted to notice Myka's slightly red eyes and tear tracks on her face. It was just run off from the shower, right? Myka dressed quickly in comfy clothes and drifted down the stairs. That's what she felt like she had been doing for months, ever since Helena's departure. Just drifting, burying her head in work, in the Warehouse, and letting it fill the hole she felt in her heart. Upon entering the kitchen, she expected an empty room, and so was a little startled to see Abigail Cho standing over the stove. The therapist turned when she heard the agent approach, both women getting a small fright.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted a decent breakfast, and since nobody was volunteering yesterday, I took it upon myself to make sure nobody keeled over during a potential disaster like the one yesterday," Abigail smiled as she flipped a pancake. Myka poured herself a cup of coffee and sat on the counter.

"That's very kind of you. Would you like a hand?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee.

"I'm fine for the moment, Agent Bering, thank you," the therapist said warmly. Myka sensed that she was still unsure of her place in the Warehouse family.

"Myka, please," replied Myka with a smile. "You're Abigail, right?" The pair hadn't had a lot of time to talk before, what with everything that had been going on. And Abigail might need someone to quiz on the intricacies of the Warehouse, though her and Claudia had been talking since Abigail had helped the young techie through the issues of the previous day.

"Yes, I am." Abigail picked up the plate stacked high with pancakes and put it on the table, where five places had been set out. "Could you get the bacon and sausages, please?" she asked, gesturing to the other plates next to the stove. Myka retrieved them and set them in the middle. The pair sat down opposite each other and began to eat. Myka hadn't noticed how hungry she had been until now. As she chugged down a glass of orange juice, Abigail began to speak.

"Myka, may I ask something?" Myka caught the tone immediately. This would be a personal question.

"Of course," she replied cautiously, setting the glass back down with slightly trembling fingers.

"What were you upset about this morning?" she asked, her gaze slightly concerned as she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side. Myka got the feeling she was being read, and became defensive.

"That's a complicated and long story," she said, attempting a smile that she knew Abigail saw right through.

"You don't have to tell me. I am here to help though." When Myka was silent for a while, Abigail leaned back in her chair. "May I voice my thoughts on this?" she asked. Myka, who couldn't even begin to talk about it, as she had been burying her feelings and denying their existence for so long, discovered she really wanted help. She wanted to talk about it with someone – it was eating her up inside. Only she didn't know how. Taking her silence as a sign of confliction and uncertainty, but her more relaxed posture and her decision to stay at the table, Abigail began her analysis.

"Myka, as you know, I have some experience in the field of psychotherapy. And I couldn't help but notice your reaction to the phone call you received yesterday, from… Helena, I think it was." Myka nodded. Abigail continued: "You looked surprised, well, more shocked, but in a happy way. Like it was something you had been waiting for. But there was also pain there. You didn't leave things on very good terms, and – given what Claudia has told me – this Helena just upped and left. The way that the others avoid talking about her when you're in the room makes me think there was something there, a very deep connection." Abigail smiled. "Am I close?"

"So, you're HG Wells, the author?" asked Adelaide, her eyes alight with wonder. Helena loved children this age. They were old enough to understand, but young enough to believe her story. And Adelaide was intelligent enough to know that Helena wasn't lying.

"Yes."

"You wrote The Time Machine?" Helena laughed at the girl's excitement.

"Yes, I did." Helena had told the girl the whole story, just because she needed someone to talk about it with. Everything she had been through; and she couldn't talk about it. She had to pretend to be someone else. It killed her; to act like an ordinary person. Myka was right, she realised. This wasn't her.

"And you really nearly caused an Ice Age?"

"Yes, that was not one of my better moments." Helena had expected the girl to be fearful of her at this point of the story, but Adelaide just accepted it like every other incredible thing Helena said. The only thing Helena left out was Christina. She didn't want Abigail to know about that part of her life. She also hadn't mentioned Myka all that much. She had told the story, but not included the emotional depth. But Abigail was very clever. Helena had a hunch she had worked it out.

"And this Myka Bering stopped you," Abigail stated. Helena nodded, praying that the child didn't ask her the dreaded question.

"Why? You seemed pretty determined. How could one woman stop you?" Helena internally damned the fates as she looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Adelaide and Helena had moved from the table to sit in the living room on the sofa, Adelaide sitting cross legged on one end, Helena sitting comfortably at the other, facing each other. She didn't want Adelaide to hate her for not loving her father. She really liked him, and he was good to her. But he wasn't Myka. Nobody could top Myka.

"You love her," stated Adelaide, the cogs turning in her head as she worked it out. Helena looked up slowly, expecting to see the child angry or upset, but Abigail just sat patiently, waiting for confirmation.

"Yes," said Helena simply. Adelaide had an impish grin on her face. "What are you smirking at?"

"I knew it," she said, her smile growing larger.

"I'm sorry, Adelaide, about your father and I-"

"Helena, it's alright. You taught me a lot and you came after me when I needed you. And I want you to be happy. It doesn't take a genius to see that you aren't happy with your current predicament."

"You're a very special child," smiled Helena, drawing the young girl close into a hug. What Adelaide did not see was Helena's eyes tearing up slightly, her smile falling from her face as she realised. She could not do this any longer. She couldn't run from her truth.

"Spot on," said Myka, with fake cheeriness. Inside, she just wanted to run and hide. With a little look from Abigail, Myka finally let it all out; pouring forth all her feelings onto the one person she knew would listen and understand.

"I see," replied Abigail when Myka finished her story. She sounded completely neutral, no judgement, no advice. Her job was to listen to a person and guide them to their own solutions. "I'm sorry for how things turned out."

"So am I," sighed Myka. She felt emotionally exhausted after her offload onto Abigail, but she felt a little better. Just a little. Myka managed a small, genuine smile to Abigail who was looking at her with sympathy, but not pity.

"So why did you let her go?" asked Abigail. Abigail had expected Myka to have a lot to say, but the way she spoke about Helena made her realise that Myka – who had never really opened up to anyone – had been through a lot, and had a lot going on in her head. The agent had buried it deep enough to hide from everyone else for so long, perhaps she didn't even know how to talk about it with anyone else.

"I…" Myka took a moment to collect her thoughts and feelings before replying. "It was better for her. She deserves to be happy, and if she's happy with a normal life, who am I to argue?"

"But you said that it wasn't like her," said Abigail with a frown. Myka considered this fact for a second.

"Well, the HG I know wouldn't be happy with such a normal existence."