A/N: This chapter takes place in, around, and on the episode "Vendetta," much of the dialogue belongs to it. Don't own "Warehouse 13" (trust me, you'd know if I did) and certainly no funds being transferred into the bank acct through this activity...
"Vendetta"
Myka needed to get away for a moment and regroup. Standing in front of Dickinson's casket made reality crash down around her. Her time at the Warehouse, however wacky and unpredictable, had made the Secret Service agent a little soft. Yes, she and Pete found themselves in often harrowing situations, but miracles and vigilance seemed to form a protective shield around the agents. Dickinson's death made it dangerous again. He had a desk job for geez sake. She didn't even feel the chill emanating from the grey slab where she sat, instead Agent Bering was lost in thought looking over the serene landscape of the National cemetery.
"It's a bloody rotten business." The cool British tone instantly shook her from her reverie. She turned quickly, automatically on the defensive.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Agent Bering didn't conceal her displeasure in seeing the wanted woman. She digested Wells explanation of also looking for the chain that killed Dickinson, even allowed the woman to rant about the zero progress made in her quest to be reinstated.
"I'm not questioning your value, I'm curious about your motives." Myka couldn't question her value. Myka standing here breathing was a testament to H.G.'s value. It should have broken her heart to hear about Wells' struggle to adjust to the twenty-first century. But it was the same line she'd heard before, and so many questions lingered. "I'm going to need more than that; I'm going to need more than 'she doesn't like the world.'"
She needed to know why she was Bronzed. And it did break her heart to hear H.G. sit down and tell her why. "I supposed I hoped to awaken in a different world. A better one."
"The Bronzer was your time machine." Profound recognition colored Myka's statement.
"The closest I could come." H.G. practically whispered the last bit, amazing herself at how forthcoming she was being with the younger woman.
"I'll talk to Artie." All the resentment had seeped from Agent Bering's voice as she sat next to H.G. All that was left was an intimate reminder that Helena didn't have to win her over anymore.
"Thank you." She passed her the envelope. "This is how to reach me in D.C." H.G. stood up from her seat on the cold concrete bench. Before leaving she paused and made eye contact with the other woman. "Myka. I'm sorry about your friend." Wells made a quick getaway, knowing that if she stayed a second longer she risked being discovered by the rest of the Warehouse 13 staff. Or worse, hug Myka Bering and never let go.
Artie had given Myka and Pete a little time to gather their thoughts after the funeral back at the hotel. Myka went to her room and crashed on the full bed, trench and all. She cursed Artie silently for his miser-ness, her feet dangling off the edge.
Myka realized someone had had to tell Dickinson's family about his death. Would they have a lot of questions? Would they have requested to see the autopsy report revealing the extent of his injuries? Or would the blow of having him dead allow their grief-stricken minds to mutely accept his fate at face value. It's not like their original plan when they joined the Secret Service; taking the proverbial bullet for the President was something that couldn't be covered up. What would they tell her friends and family if and when it happened to her?
She took a deep breath as she stared at the ceiling, casually reaching into her pockets. "What the hell?" she whispered to no one in particular and she held what looked like a watch battery in one hand and a note in the other. She read the note first: "Any use for the grappler? Myka, I remind you to trust me. –H"
She looked at the shiny bit of technology in her other hand. H.G. had no trouble finding them transmitter or not, perhaps it would prove handy to keep this around a little longer. She slipped it back into her trench pocket, forgetting it for the time being. Her cell began to ring from its perch on the rickety nightstand.
"There's been another death." Kate Logan told Agent Bering where to meet them and hung up.
Back at the NSA...
Kate Logan loved her job and loved solving murders. But hacking into the NSA mainframe was something she didn't think her supervisors would approve of. She'd leave the troublemaking to Pete's team of rogue government workers. The less questions the better. She exited, leaving Myka and Artie huddled over the computer.
Myka's heart began to race when Pete fed them what he'd found on the security footage. She wasn't as surprised to see H.G. entering the building as she was shocked to see her smug expression as she practically waved at the camera. Wells knew they'd come across this, was her confident expression devious or just proving she could be on the right track.
Artie had begun to rant. He had this conspiracy theory that H.G. was somehow after him alone, trying to bring him down for whatever reason. Pete and Myka had talked about it after the incident with Godfred's ladel when H.G. had first reappeared. She was a symbol for MacPherson. Worse, a symbol of his death.
"Look maybe she was here for other reasons." Myka didn't even seem to believe what she was saying.
"Like what, applying for a job?" He was being unreasonable, it happened when Artie felt threatened.
"No, like hunting down whatever artifact that did this so she could prove herself and rejoin the Warehouse—" Oh crap, she did not just say that.
"Myka, how do you know that?" Artie crept closer to her, like a father trying to extract an explanation from a troublesome daughter. No sudden movements.
"I—may have—spoken to her." She confessed two octaves too high.
"Oh man! You've been talking to H.G.?" Pete's incredulity was equal parts admiration at getting away with it and sympathy for what he knew Artie would do to his partner.
"I was waiting for the right time." Myka was finding it harder and harder to come up with excuses for her secret-keeping.
"This ain't it." Read: never a good time for that confession. Ever.
Artie started getting personal. Angry accusations and berating that Myka was trying to block out. As much of a crank as he always seemed to be, she loved Artie and it was disheartening to hear him say such things.
"I know where she is!" She grabbed the envelope and barely had time to screech out "the Archer hotel" before Artie snatched the address from her hands.
"I guess we're going." Myka was still holding her breath.
"Yeah." Pete intoned.
"Pete, hold up a sec." Myka grabbed her partner by the arm near the doorway. "I just want to say thank you for that."
"Myka, you seriously need to get it together. H.G. equals baddie. Even if you don't believe that, Artie is on a rampage and you need to start falling on his side of this argument." Pete sighed and put his hands on his hips. "I can't guarantee your safety otherwise."
"A bit dramatic, are we Pete?" Myka smirked until Pete gave her a "do you really want to press your luck?" glare. They quickly left to catch up with the bossman.
The Archer hotel...
They entered guns ablazin' and Myka had a fleeting worry that Artie might get trigger happy if they did find H.G. in the room. Luckily, it was empty. The phone began to ring and H.G.'s lilting voice filled the room. Myka had to roll her eyes at the other woman's presumptuousness.
Artie was about to hang up, hearing enough of H.G.'s requests for "quid pro quo." Myka was spurred into action, knowing intuitively that Wells' stubbornness could be as detrimental as Artie's own.
"Artie, wait! Maybe she has some information." Myka had to practically yell the last part to be heard over Artie's mumbled denigrates of murderousness.
"You don't know that!" Myka needed to change courses and fast if she was going to prevent him from hanging up. "Artie it's a lead. We need leads." Artie ceded, and it seems as if H.G. did too. The team plus one figured out that maybe someone was after Artie after all.
"He must be going after your family." H.G. reckoned inopportunely out loud.
"That's all the 'quid pro quo' you're going to get." He snidely commented as he slammed the receiver down. Artie began to explain his checkered past with Alexander, his former Soviet contact. They knew what their next destination would be.
As Pete and Artie exited the room, Myka doubled back and hurried to the pad of hotel paper on the bedside table and quickly scrawled: "You can owe me." She double-underlined the "owe me" part.
What was Myka getting herself into? There would be time to think of that later. To Russia they went.
Moscow...
She couldn't help but to follow Myka with her eyes, that's how Lattimer got the jump on her. She turned to find the Tesla pointed at her midsection. A situation she was quickly becoming used to. She'd expected Agent Lattimer to be angrier given their history and her deception of the young man, but he questioned her calmly instead. As calmly as you can be holding a Tesla.
She slowly revealed her tracking receiver and it surprised her to find out Artie had been taken. Then Myka was beside her; the next seconds were a jumble of discussion.
"We could use your help." Myka's direct comment brought H.G. back.
"Wait, Myka, no. Artie would blow a gasket." Had his partner lost her mind?
"We need help and she's here—" Myka turned back to the other woman, "and for the record, I knew that you slipped this in my pocket at the cemetery—" Myka handed her the transmitter, smiling sideways.
"I thought you'd know that I—" She never underestimated the intelligence of the curly-haired beauty before her.
"I knew that'd you think I'd know—" Myka immediately responded, their heads practically touching.
Latimer bit his tongue against the "get a room" comment he really wanted to make and settled with a loud sigh and an "alright" until he was once again acknowledged as being present in the same universe as the two women. He filled in H.G. on their theory that Alexander was the one that nabbed their boss. H.G. countered by pulling out Alexander's death certificate. They needed a new plan of action, that's for sure.
Abandoned Building...
Once they had so prudently adapted H.G.'s receiver to hone in on the transmitter in Artie's glasses (thank you, Claudia Donovan), they quickly made their way to and through one of the many rundown Soviet-era storage facilities. Knowing Artie to be close, they split apart to search more thoroughly. It warmed Myka's hear t to hear Pete tell H.G. to be careful before they went their separate ways. She welcomed Pete to H.G.'s defense, that way she didn't stand alone. It still didn't stop her from chiding him to hurry his ass up.
H.G. came across an unconscious Artie, seizing her chance to get this man unchained and on her side. Her time as a Warehouse apprentice should have led Wells to believe that nothing was ever that simple. Artie suddenly regained awareness to find his worst nightmare in front of him. H.G. shushed him and assured him everything would be okay. He shook his head and whispered "behind you." Before she knew it, she was on the floor cold. Literally.
H.G. knew this would end badly if she couldn't keep it together. She tried everything to stay coherent, finally settling on thinking warm thoughts. Eventually she was able to make it to her weapon and get off a shot at Artie's chain before falling into oblivion…the next thing she remembered was Artie forcing something into her arms.
It wasn't long before Myka and Pete heard the gunshot and went running through the gate they had finagled open. After rushing down a rickety flight of stairs they barged onto the scene as the still-unidentified villain made the move to use Torquemada's chain. Myka was frozen in place (not literally) at the tableau before her. Pete's reflexes were a little more on point as he fired his Tesla before the man could cause any serious harm.
"Well, that wasn't hard." She couldn't tell if her partner was being sarcastic or not but more importantly, Myka didn't know whether to be more ecstatic that Artie was crouched over H.G.'s body protectively or that the older woman seemed to be just fine.
One thing Myka Bering did know for sure was that the plane trip back to the office would be a long one.
A/N2: You can most definitely story alert this one if you'd like. I envision at least six chapters if not more. And, remember dear friends, reviews most definitely help with the creative writing process (read: quicker updates).