Disclaimer: I don't own Warehouse 13.
Author's Note
Just Coffee
You shift the grocery bags to one arm to dig your keys out of your pocket. You're leaning into the car to place the bags on the floor just behind your seat when she leans against the car and speaks. You jump - startled - and nearly hit your head on the roof of the car, but you smile when you see her. You're still smiling even as you glare at her. "You did that on purpose," you accuse her.
She gives you an innocent look. You probably would have believed it, but there's a glint in her eyes that suggests that she enjoyed your reaction far too much. She smirks and tells you that you're awfully jumpy today.
Your smile dims because you know she's right. You just don't understand why. You've been looking around and glancing back over your shoulder ever since you left the market.
She asks you if you want to get a coffee with her. Your smile returns - just as bright as before. You brush off your incomprehensible bout of paranoia and forget about the groceries in the back of your car. You accept her offer, and she smiles up at you. She reaches for your hand and starts to lead you in the direction of the small coffee shop just down the street.
When she doesn't let go once you've begun walking, you look down and stare at your joined hands, but you don't say anything to her about it. She releases your hand to open the door for you. You smile and thank her, but you also shove your freed hands into your pockets almost awkwardly. If she notices your discomfort, she doesn't say anything as she follows you inside.
You order your coffee and pick a table by the window as she orders her own. You stare out the window as you wait for her, and it escapes your notice that you are playing absently with your coffee cup - sliding it back and forth across the table. It's an obvious sign of your anxious state. She looks at you with concern when she meets you at your table. You smile weakly when she asks if everything is alright. She doesn't seem entirely convinced, but she sits opposite you and easily draws you into a conversation. Soon enough, you're smiling genuinely again at her and watching as she talks animatedly, using wild hand gestures to emphasize her points.
Everything about her is different. She's taller - but still shorter than you. She's blonde. She's bubbly and carefree. Her eyes are full of light and laughter instead of darkness and anger, but maybe that's a good thing. You've had too much pain and heartbreak and disappointment in the last few years. You need someone who will make you smile and laugh again - someone who will smooth all the jagged pieces of your broken heart until they are able to fit back together once again - without those troublesome telltale holes of pieces you've both lost and gained.
She can do that. She's already doing that.
With a little time, she could even be your 'one'.
She says something that has you laughing exuberantly. She watches with a small smile as you try to contain your laughter - the other patrons are starting to stare. Her hand comes to rest atop yours. You jump at the sudden contact, and your laughter comes to an abrupt end. She's been watching you - her eyes alight with determination - since you started laughing. Her thumb rubs a soothing pattern over your knuckles. You stare at her as she begins to lean in - slowly, giving you time to back out if you need to.
Your first time kissing a woman.
I turn away unable to watch her kiss you. I had always thought - hoped - that your first would be with me. That isn't possible now, and I know I must have run out of chances by now. I broke you too many times - this last was the worst. You never deserved that. You deserve someone who won't break you. Someone who is nothing like me. Someone like her.
She will make you happy. I can't ruin this for you.
Perhaps, if I had come to my senses sooner…
Well, a number of mistakes would have been avoided, I suppose.
It was for the best that I sought you out first, instead of going to the Warehouse. I doubt I could bear it if I had been returned to my position, only to find you with another. To work beside you daily, always knowing what we could have had, even as you built a family with her. I look back one last time, hoping to commit every aspect of you to memory.
You rush out of the small shop. She's right on your heels, trying to find out what went wrong. You stop, and turn to her. You're both speaking quietly now, trying not to be overheard by any passersby. She looks at you sadly, but she nods her understanding. You pull her into an embrace, but she pulls back, clearly uncomfortable. You watch her drive away with something akin to remorse - you never wanted to hurt her, but you know you did.
You glance around again. Your gaze sweeps past me once, before you take notice of me. You inhale sharply, "Helena." You're more disbelieving than surprised - my heart aches at the thought. As you cross the street you try to constrain your features into a blank mask, but that never did work on me. Despite your best efforts, you were always as an open book to me. That hasn't changed.
Curiosity, hurt and wariness all struggling for dominance just beneath your carefully composed veneer. "What are you doing here?" You attempt to sound nonchalant, but your voice cracks slightly at the end. You hardly even notice. Your gaze has hardly left mine since you first spotted me - not that I've fared any better. You always did have a way of drawing me in, capturing my attention like no other.
"I- I needed to apologize to you. You were right. I was running, from the Warehouse, yes. Worse, I was running from my truth, and I knew it. Much as I tried to avoid admitting to it, I was running, and I knew it. I couldn't walk away from my truth any longer." You're slow to hope. You've had all hope ripped away all too frequently - especially where I am involved. "It was inevitable, really. H.G. Wells was never destined for normalcy."
You swallow tightly, "So, you're back?"
"Well, not officially. I have yet to speak with the Regents - or anyone from the Warehouse, but yes, I am back. If you'll have me?"
"Why?" You're surprised that the word left your lips, but that thought has been at the forefront of your mind ever since you saw me. That word broke the barrier. You stand a little taller, more rigidly. Now that you've asked, you're determined not to let it go without pulling from me all the answers you need. "Why now? Why not when the Astrolabe was safe? Why not in Boone?" Hurt colors your tone and fuels your quest for an answer. "What changed, Helena? Because the last time I saw you, you were adamant that you and the Warehouse were such a bad combination."
I reach out and slip my hand into yours. You try to pull your hand out of my grasp, but I hold tight. You settle for glaring - rather adorably - at me when you realize that you won't be able to free your hand without causing a scene. I fight back a smile, knowing it would only anger you further.
"You."
"What?"
"I realized that what we have is too important for me to let my silly fears get in the way. I was afraid that I would slip up again; that the next time I would end up hurting you in a way far worse than last time. I was afraid that the next time, I might be so lost that not even you would be able to pull me back before I destroyed everything."
"That won't happen."
You're so sure. I wish I had half of the confidence you've always had in me - through even the worst of my moments. You twist your hand in mine, not pulling away, and slip your fingers between my own. You step closer, just inches between us now, wondrously invading my senses. My skin buzzes as though I had run an electric current through it. The scent of coffee lingers on your breath, sweet and chocolatey, mixed with a scent I can't quite place - not quite strawberry. It's torture - this struggle not to lean in those last few inches and see just what that mixture tastes like.
"Helena, look at me." Your words are sharp. My eyes slip closed for a second. I gather my wits about me quickly and meet your gaze once more. "That isn't going to happen. You've come so far since then. I know you don't see it, but you have. You're not alone anymore, either. You have me-" You blush suddenly and rush to correct yourself. "I mean us, all of us. Pete, Claudia, Artie - even Steve and Abigail - we're all your family."
"I think you had it right the first time, darling." I smile and lift my hand to your face, brushing my thumb lightly over your still-red cheek, causing your blush to deepen. "I can not say I truly know whether I returned because I decided not to let fear rule me, or if I returned simply because I could no longer stand to be away from you." The blush that lights your face is the most magnificent yet.