PROMPT(s): "Bering and Wells: Myka remembers the explosion and Helena's sacrifice and does something about it" and "Myka and HG's first kiss"
RATING: T
WORD COUNT: 1,321
DISCLAIMER: Still not mine. -_-
A/N: Set DURING 4x01, right after Artie uses the astrolabe to restore the warehouse. Technically AU from there. Also, I take liberties with WHY Myka remembers… meaning I don't explain it because of the shortness of the fic. Just assume that something in the Warehouse only affected her and caused her to remember the events, okay?
Myka remembers. But no one else seems to. One minute she was being detained in an Italian police station (due to her little stunt with the chair through the window to distract the restaurant owner), the next, she was once again tangled in the rope of the Mary Celeste with Helena.
She didn't say anything at first. Her focus was on getting to Walter Sykes and stopping him from destroying the Warehouse. Which they did, using Gandhi's dhoti. The Warehouse still stood around them, the bomb successfully diffused, and suddenly, Myka realized that she still recalled the events of the alternant timeline. But no one else did. (Well, she suspected Artie did, but couldn't tell them, but that was beside the point.) No, they were seemingly clueless, asking Artie questions that they wouldn't be asking if they'd remembered.
She stood to the back, silently musing. Why could she remember? She remembered that the portal had closed on Sykes, thinking it was all over, then finding the bomb and attempting to diffuse it. But they hadn't been able to and Helena… Helena! She'd sacrificed herself to save them all!
Myka suddenly felt the breath leave her body as she looked frantically around the space for the Englishwoman. She found her standing only a few feet away, studying her with a look of worry etched on her delicate features. Myka felt tears sting the back of her throat.
"Myka, are you alright?" she asked, concerned.
Myka nodded, moving to pull the other woman out of the Warehouse floor clearing, towards a secluded aisle.
"Hey, Mykes, where are you going?" Pete called after them. But she ignored him. Had she turned around, she would have seen Artie stopping him from following them.
"Myka?" Helena spoke when Myka pulled her into the Warehouse library—which was really nothing more than a few old, dusty couches surrounded by several hundred shelves of first edition books. "What is it, darling?"
"You don't remember?" Myka asked as she turned to face her.
"Remember what, darling?" Helena tried to get Myka to sit on one of the old couches, but the woman wouldn't budge.
"You… the–the bomb went off and the Warehouse… you died. Saving us. One second you were there and smelling fucking apples and the next, you were just… gone."
"Myka, what are you talking abou—"
"You!" Myka interjected. "There was a whole 'nother timeline. After the rope, we couldn't stop the bomb, you found a way to protect Pete, Artie, and me, but you died in the process. Saving us. Then we figured out what the pocket watch was telling us and we went to the Vatican to get the astrolabe—"
"The astrolabe?!" Helena interrupted, gripping Myka's forearm, voice laced with horror. "You used it?!"
Myka stopped short at Helena's harshness, surprised. "No," she started, voice low. "I didn't. But I assume that someone did since we're here and not all dead. You aren't dead."
Helena's grip softened at the rawness in Myka's voice. "I died?"
Myka nodded. "Just when I thought…" she trailed off, not meeting Helena's gaze.
"When you thought what, darling?"
Myka stood up straight, back rigid, fists clenched at her sides as she attempted to control her emotions. She failed. Miserably. "Before we found the bomb, after Sykes was gone… I thought there might be a chance… for you t-to come back. Again."
Helena knit her eyebrow in confusion. "You wanted me to return to the Warehouse?"
She sounded so small, so vulnerable, that Myka was forced to look at her. What she saw was not the confident, self-assured woman she'd come to know. Instead, Helena appeared unsure of herself, arms crossed low on her torso in a gesture of self-preservation. And her expression… she looked… confused, unsure and—was that a hint of fear in her eyes?
"Of course I did," Myka said, voice barely above a whisper.
Helena searched Myka's eyes, seeing only honesty, compassion, and a hint of something Helena was too cautious to identify at the moment instead of the hurt and anger that had been present months before in the bookstore. "I'm sorry," she blurted unceremoniously. "For before. I'm sorry I allowed my grief to consume me to the point of hurting everyone else I cared about. For hurting you. I know that's not enough to rectify my actions, but it's all I can offer."
Myka shook her head slightly. "You spent a century with that grief, Helena. Locked away with only your own thought to keep you company. I don't know of a single person who wouldn't have gone just a little bit stir crazy. I've forgiven you."
"You have?" Helena was genuinely shocked.
Myka nodded. "Sure. You were seconds away from destroying the world, but you didn't."
"Because of you," Helena said. "I was so blinded by the rage of Christina's murder that I could only see the evil in the world. But then there was you. I saw the good in you, Myka, and I knew that was more than enough."
Myka swallowed against the knot that had formed in the back of her throat, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. She didn't even notice. "Enough for what?" she asked.
Helena stepped towards her, reaching up to wipe away the tear that had fallen. Myka didn't flinch or pull away and Helena correctly took that as a positive sign. "Enough to convince me that there's still good in the world." She moved even closer so that their faces were mere inches apart. Again, Myka offered no protest. "Enough for… me."
Helena's not entirely sure who moved first, but they met in the middle, their lips brushing together in a feather-light kiss. It lasted mere seconds before they parted. Myka trained her eyes on Helena's. "Don't ever do that again," she said, voice trembling.
Helena, mistaking Myka's meaning, quickly took a step back and averted her eyes, hands sliding in the back pockets of her jeans as if to keep them from touching Myka. "I'm sorry," she rushed out. "I thought you… wanted me to. It won't happen again."
Myka realized Helena's assumption and mentally kicked herself. But rather than vocalize her reassurances, she just stepped forward, reached up to cup both Helena's cheeks in her hands, and kissed her again. She slanted her lips over Helena's, electing a surprised, but not displeased, sigh of pleasure from the smaller woman.
Helena quickly recovered from her surprise, moving her hands to grip Myka's hips and kissing her back with equal fervor.
Needing air, Myka pulled back, hands still cupping Helena's cheeks. "I just meant that you should ever get yourself killed like that again," she murmured. "I wasn't referring to you kissing me. You better do that a lot more, actually."
"Okay," Helena obliged, closing the small distance between their torsos and kissing Myka again. It was only the first—okay, third—of many kisses between the tall shelves of old, dusty books that afternoon.
Pete happened upon them at one point, but they didn't even notice. Probably because as soon as he saw them, he just smiled and walked away. (Okay, he may have watched for a split second—or thirty. He was only male, after all!) Pete was surprised when Artie didn't insist on finding them when Pete claimed to not know where they were. But Artie had just shrugged and mumbled something about needing to talk to the regents. Pete swore he heard "saved us all" and "reinstated," but he couldn't be sure.
So, Myka was off making out with HG and Artie wasn't concerned about HG being loose in the Warehouse. He glanced around the office, wondering if he'd touched another artifact that had sent him into another alternate universe, but then he just shrugged. It appeared that Myka was happy and Artie wasn't unhappy. If it was an alternate universe, it could be worse.