Warehouse 13
High School AU
Eventual Bering and Wells

TW: alludes to abuse

Chapter Three

Myka felt awkward standing next to Lattimer in her workout clothes.

He was almost all bulging muscle thanks to his sports. His shirt – sleeveless despite the weather– showed off his arms and he occasionally flexed while winking at Leena. The older girl just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Myka, on the other hand, was lanky and too tall. Her clothes – purchased a year ago to practice fencing in – were a size too small and only made her look taller and lankier and even more awkward. She shifted from foot to foot, wishing they were inside.

The wind was blowing hard against the straight-aways, which was going to make finishing hurt even more. Snow was piled on the edges of the track; some had already found its way into her trainers.

"One mile," Artie said. "Four laps."

Lattimer nodded and rolled his neck. "Try to keep up, Bering," he drawled.

She rolled her eyes. She already knew she wasn't going to do that well. She hadn't finished her homework until after two. Her legs had been dragging all day, and her headache had been steadily growing.

On top of that, she had woken up late, hadn't had time to make a lunch, and had no money in her meal plan. Her stomach had turned into a pit hid-way through English.

"Ready…go."

-oOo-

Lattimer was still gloating after they had showered, changed, and met back in the auxiliary room.

"I mean, I knew I was going to beat you, but damn, Bering."

Myka rolled her eyes and pulled a textbook out of her bag. She set it on the desk and opened it – the page she needed clearly marked with a post-it.

Lattimer stared at her. "What are you doing?"

"Homework," she replied.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can't you do it later?"

She just shook her head. She would get home and have to work right away. She couldn't manage another night staying up so late.

"Whatever," he said with a shrug and pulled a comic book from his bag.

The words on her page blurred together every other minute, and her head nodded forward a few times. She closed her book and stood up. If she sat much longer, she would pass out and there was no way she was doing that around Lattimer.

A wave of vertigo hit her. She gripped the desk until it passed. When it did, however, the headache she had been fighting all day increased. It started to pound against her skull, making her eyes water.

She walked to the book shelves and started to browse the titles. Her legs protested, and her head felt light and heavy at the same time, but it was better than sitting down.

She pulled a random book out and started to flip through it. She leaned back against the bookshelf. The book quickly grew heavy in her hand and the small print increased the throbbing behind her eyes. She was about to give up and put it back when Artie – who had been testing Leena – walked in.

"Both of you, over here," he said as he sat in one of the armchairs.

Myka slipped the book back on the shelf and followed Lattimer over. She stood next to the chair Lattimer sat in. Artie raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything about it.

"Not bad, considering the conditions, but still room to improve, for both of you," he told them. Myka ducked her head, the criticism hitting her hard. "You're done for the day. Get some rest, the real training begins tomorrow."

"That's it?" Pete asked.

"Yeah. Go, be free. Enjoy the rest of your day. Don't expect to get out this early again."

"Sweet," Pete exclaimed. He stood and raced from the room.

Myka shifted awkwardly on her feet. Artie gave her a questioning look.

"My, uh, ride won't be here until the usual end time, so is it alright if I stay down here until then?" she asked.

He watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Just make sure you close the door when you leave, or it won't lock."

She nodded. He didn't waste any time gathering his stuff, but paused right before leaving the room. He turned to her.

"You'll be okay by yourself, right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm probably just going to get some homework done."

"Okay."

He turned again, and left the room.

Myka twisted around to take in the emptiness of the room. The silence bore down on her, pulling her attention to the pounding in her head.

She massaged her temples slightly, and returned to the desk her stuff sat on.

-oOo-

Artie grumbled to himself as he walked through the school. How could he have forgotten his Farnsworth?

He groaned when he noticed the open door. He had thought Myka was responsible enough to do something as simple as closing the door.

He faltered slightly when he noticed the music coming from the room. Classical; not something he ever expected to hear at a high school.

When he entered the room, his eyes instantly landed on the figure at one of the desks.

Myka – head resting on folded arms, back steadily rising and falling – was fast asleep. Textbooks and worksheets covered the surface around her. The music came from an mp3 that had fallen to the ground.

Artie checked his watch to make sure he had the time right.

Her ride should have arrived at least an hour ago.

He walked over to her and gently shook her. She groaned as she woke. She tried to bury her face further into her arms, then turned her head towards him.

"Artie?" she questioned through a yawn.

"Why are you still here, Myka?" he softly asked.

She blinked a few times to fight off the sleep that still held her, and looked at the work strewn across the desk.

"Waiting for my ride," she said.

"At five thirty?"

Her brow furrowed, and she looked at her watch. It took a few moments for her mind to process the information, but when it did, her eyes grew wide, and she jumped to her feet.

Artie could hear her repeatedly muttering shit under her breath as she gathered her stuff. Even in such a hurried state, he noticed that she kept her stuff organized.

"Myka…"

She stopped and turned to him.

"Thank you," she said. "For letting me stay and for waking me. My dad's probably really… worried right now."

She zipped her backpack, swung it over her shoulder, and bent down to pick up her mp3. She stuffed the device into her pocket as she moved to the door.

"What happened to your ride?" he asked.

She froze but didn't turn to him. He could feel the unease rolling off of her. One of her hands was playing with the keys that hung from her belt loop.

He moved so they were facing each other. Her shoulders slumped.

"I walk," she confessed. "I just wanted someplace quiet to do my homework."

"You don't have to lie," he told her. "This room is here for you to use."

She nodded, but kept her head down.

"Let me give you a ride home."

She looked up at him with shocked eyes, then quickly lowered her head again. "No. Thanks, but I'll be fine."

"Myka." She looked up and he gave her a hard look. "It's dark out, there is snow on the ground. I don't want you walking home in these conditions."

"I'll be fine, Artie," she insisted. "It's really not that far."

"I'm not budging on this. I'm driving you home."

An odd look crossed her features, then she gave in. "Okay."

"I just need to grab something, and we'll be on our way."

She nodded, and walked to the door. She leaned against the doorway, her head resting against the wall, her eyes half-closed.

He quickly grabbed his Farnsworth, and led her out of the room. They didn't say a word as they walked through the building. Artie allowed her to have her silence, sensing that even if he tried, she would repel any attempt he made.

He risked brief glances at her as he drove. She looked small with her body hunched over her bag and her head threatening to loll to the side.

She only spoke – her voice automatic – to give him directions, then a small thanks as she climbed out.

"Myka," he said just before she closed the door.

She bent down slightly to look at him. Her face was schooled in seeming perfect emotionlessness.

"Anytime you need a ride, just ask," he said.

She blinked a few times, then nodded. "Thanks."

Artie watched her walk into the bookstore, then drove off.

-oOo-

Myka wasn't surprised to find her father waiting for her in the bookstore. He blocked the stairwell to their apartment. His eyes bore into her as she approached.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his voice harsh.

"The session ran late. I didn't get a chance to call," she quietly lied.

Fighting every instinct to look down, she held his gaze. She knew the importance of keeping eye contact; if he even thought she was lying, she would be done for the night.

Finally, he nodded, and moved to let her through.

"Be sure to call next time. Go to your room. Your mother will bring you dinner," he said as she passed. "And you're going to work double shifts this weekend."

She was asleep before her mother had even gotten her plate ready.