Timeline: After 4.04, There's Always a Downside
Disclaimer: The characters of Warehouse 13 are not mine. I merely borrowed them for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.
It was a mild night for South Dakota yet Myka Bering found herself missing the drowsy heat of that one night she'd spent in New Orleans from whence she and her fellow agent, Steve Jinks, had just returned. She stood in the doorframe of the B&B's backdoor and looked up at the starry sky, thinking about her recent mission. It had been a good mission, they had done a good job. But the artifact and its user - the term adequately pointing toward an addiction in this case - were not on the forefront of her mind. It had rather been one of those missions when you learned more about your partner, more about life, and about yourself.
It had been but one sentence, one mention of her name that had Myka thrown back into a yearning she had almost thought she had under control. Helena. Just the mentioning of her name, her initials, had been enough and now Myka was once again standing at the door to the B&B - just like she had done those first few weeks after Helena left - waiting.
"This is senseless," she berated herself but did not move away from the doorframe. She pulled her hoodie tighter around her lithe body, the air around her chilling in the late evening hours. Everybody had already gone to their respective rooms - whether they were already sleeping was a different question, one that Myka didn't mind not knowing the answer to just now. Pete had been on hyperdrive after experiencing the effect of one of Bobby Fisher's marbles, he had beamed at her and said:
"Now I know how it feels to be you. It's exhausting." They had all had a good laugh at that, and cookies. They had related their different adventures - without mentioning what Steve had told her about his new and rather mystic connection with Claudia - over dinner and afterward had gone their seperate ways. Hers led Myka to her current position and the one thought she couldn't shake. That of H.G. Wells. How she missed her, how...
"Star-gazing?" The voice cut through her like a knife through butter, her body possibly remembering it before her brain could process what it had heard. Myka took a step forward, bliniking into darkness.
"Helena?" It was no more than a breathless whisper, a prayer she had said so often that hearing it now and aloud the familiarity frightened her.
"Shhhh." And then fingers entwined with hers, pulling her away from the house and into the darkness. They did not walk far, just far enough that they could not be seen or heard from the house and no one would stumble across them on a short walk should anyone care to take one.
When they finally stood under one of the trees in the B&B's vast yard, silence engulfed them. Myka could think of a million things to say but as long as she could not even make out her companion's features she held her thoughts close to herself. Finally, her eyes adjusted to the dark and she could make out first a silhouette, then the different colors of clothes, a pale face against the darkness of hair, the shade of dark eyes in same face.
"Helena." Her voice broke even with this short word and Myka swallowed hard on tears that wanted to flood her eyes. But she wouldn't let them, she wanted to see that face, she had to.
"Myka," the writer answered and squeezed the fingers she was still holding. It felt like a pull to the other woman and she took a step closer. Without conscious thought Myka lifted her arms and pulled Helena into a fierce hug. HG sighed. This was why she had come back, the feel of the other woman's body against her, her weight, her smell. For a second the writer felt overwhelmed by memories, her arms tightening around the warehouse agent.
They stood like this for several minutes, unthinking, feeling what they had both missed. When they seperated, just enough to be able to hold hands, Myka said:
"You're back." Her hand wandered to the lovely face of the writer but felt no smile grace lips and cheeks. "Only, you're not," she concluded and her own face shiftet into a frown.
Helena said nothing, she sighed once again.
"Talk to me, Helena. What is going on?" Her voice sounded desperate, there always seemed to be the threat that Helena was leaving, that she was losing her one way or another, never being able to hold on. This feeling gripped her now and squeezed the air out of her lungs.
"I am not yet able to come back, Myka," Helena finally conceded.
"Why not? What's going on?" The agent repeated her question.
"Well, there are things... I have to investigate. I cannot talk to you about this, I am sorry. Just know that it is important. It is also dangerous."
Myka didn't know whether she should feel slighted or worried. She wanted to help Helena, she wanted to be with her, so desperately. More than anything else, she wanted her to be safe. Her conflicting feelings showed plainly on her face, and now it was Helena who cupped her cheek with her hand.
"You are so lovely. More lovely than I even remembered."
"You're a sweet talker," Myka answered but she gave her companion a little smile.
"Without a doubt," Helena answered. Her own smile melted what little resistance the agent felt and when Helena took the last small step that brought their bodies together she bowed her head and their lips met instantly. Lips crushed against each other, stirring desire that had been ignored for too long. Tongues battled, hands pulled and pushed, entangled in hair, glided down body parts, found each other again. Myka moaned into Helena's mouth. She tried to find a way to feel more of her, pulling her to her taller body forcefully, almost losing her footing on the uneven ground.
"Myka," it was a whisper against her lips but it chided her softly. Their lips ceased their movements, but stayed close, so deliciously close. Myka had her eyes shut tied, she knew what must come. But at least this time she could say the words, she would not wake up to Helena just gone without a word. Never again.
"Where are you going from here?", she asked knowing full well that the writer would not answer the question.
"Europe." Well, that was vague enough.
"And when will you be back?" Myka's hands resumed their exploration while her brain conjured questions to ask so as to delay their goodbye.
"I am not sure, darling. I would like to say that I will be back soon but I simply don't know."
"But you are coming back?" Her eyes opened for the first time since they kissed and looked fiercely into Helena's own. "Please come back," she whispered.
"I will come back," Helena promised. It meant so much coming from a woman who was always seemingly in flight, who called no place home, who felt unsettled by the time she had been thrown into. Myka smiled. She kissed Helena again, light kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her nose and eyelids. Her arms circled her shoulders again, pulling her closer.
"I'll miss you," she whispered into the wirter's thick dark hair.
"And I you," Helena gave back. She retreated a step and Myka relinquished her hold on her.
"There are so many things I still want to say to you," the agent said, her mouth forming an adorable pout that made the writer smile.
"We'll have time when I come back." She lifted Myka's hand to her mouth and gave it the softest of kisses. "So delicious," she murmured.
"Sweet talker." They both laughed but it could not last. The end had come.
"Why did you come if you had to go again so soon?" Myka asked this one last question while she could still feel Helena's fingers holding hers, could still see her silhouette although her body seemed to move away more swiftly than seemed possible.
"I had to. I could not go another hour without seeing you," was the whispered answer that came back to her before the soft touch holding her vanished like a dream, without any noise, leaving only a memory.
The End.