Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13, it's characters, or anything affiliated. I gain no profit from the writing of this fiction.
This is angsty, you've been warned.
Set after s3.e06
She was a little startled, to say the least. She had not anticipated returning so soon, nor to where she had appeared. True that the group could call upon her at their will, but Agent Lattimer's disdain had been obvious, and she knew well that Artie had never liked her. Looking around, it was easy to recognize the room in the B&B, and that she had been brought back within Myka's bedroom of all places. It was familiar, yet different, and she raised two sculpted brows at the woman.
"What do you want, Helena?" Myka's question was unexpected, the woman's voice a little rough. It was the sound of hurt and sadness that she had grown to know all too well. The tears lurking in Myka's shining eyes, despite the stubborn, strong set to her face, only echoed that same hurt.
"I'm sorry, Darling, but I do not believe I understand the question." She hesitating in answering with that, but it was true. Myka had used the orb, brought the projected image of her into existence here… surely it was Myka that wanted something. The choked pain flashed across the woman's face, though, and she wished fervently for things to be different.
"Want, H.G. What do you want?" Myka gasped, and there was a visible effort to keep herself under control. What did she want? At the moment, she wanted nothing more than the precious sensation of touch. She wanted to be able to reach out and brush Myka's hair back, hold her around the shoulders and simply be there for her fragile friend. Myka was obviously going through something… something quite serious… and she wanted to help the woman overcome this difficulty.
She suspected, though, that this answer would not suffice. That wasn't what Myka was searching for, and without the granting of that want, the information alone would likely not be of help. "Want, Myka? I want a great many things." She let out a long breath, little though such was needed in her current state. "I want for things to have happened very different. I want for Christina to have never died. I want to not hurt, not ache, over the fact that she did. I want to have not hurt so many in my anguish over her death. I want to stop being so angry and hurt at the world for being as it is, and for taking her from me. I want to not have come away from my time in bronze so broken. I want to have never hurt you, to have never betrayed the Warehouse. My most immediate want is to be able to brush your tears away, and be the friend you deserved… instead of this damaged creature you see."
Myka was indeed crying, and she once again lurched a step forward, wishing for the simple ability to touch. Even knowing it was useless, she drifted her hand out and over Myka's slightly mussed, but beautiful hair as the woman crumpled onto the bed, struggling for control over the tears. Oh how she missed those lovely curls. The strange almost-tingle sensation of passing through something arced up her arm as she tried to pet Myka's head, watching a hand flutter up in an equally fruitless attempt to touch her hand back. "Why?" The soft, broken word made her throat tighten.
Closing her eyes, she crouched before Myka, trying to lock eyes. "Why couldn't I let it go? Or why couldn't I talk to you? Why couldn't I be who you deserved, after you placed so much trust and friendship on me?" Helena shook her head bitterly. "I am a broken, pained creature, Myka. I wish that I could have deserved you. Hurting you… it was as painful as my loss of Christina… but I couldn't stop myself. There is so much wrong with me, and I can only hope that this confinement and… intervention… by the Regents will help me to, in time, heal and make up for all that I have done. I only ask of you now… not even for forgiveness… but that you never let your hurt consume you, as mine did me."
"I hate missing you." Myka whispered, closing her eyes, and she was surprised at how much the words hurt. "Helena, I miss you so much… and I hate it."
"I'm sorry, Darling." She whispered. There was little else she could do. She watched Myka nod, and slowly regain control over her tears and emotions. The same strong, confident agent took the vulnerable woman's place, and Helena Grace Wells watched in sad concern as Myka lifted the orb and sent her a look. A deft twist, and H.G. was gone, but not the loving, forgiving gaze that had settled into Myka's eyes.