My Own Darkest Villain
WRITTEN BY: WHAT SUBTEXT?
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTORS ALL RIGHTS TO WAREHOUSE 13 CREATORS
PAIRING: MYKA/HG WELLS FEMSLASH ROMANCE
RAITING: MATURE
STORY: FROM TIME WILL TELL THEN GOES OFF ON ITS OWN PATH,
For old times' sake
Helena had moved on to more affluent surroundings. She had gone from a damp mould infested dorm room to a plush D.C. hotel. The room was large and opulent and much more pleasing to her Victorian sensibilities. James Macpherson had ensured she had sufficient funds to support her in the world he had released her into. Money had no real importance to Helena but she was glad of her current abode.
The room was silent except for the sound of traffic below serving as background music. From the corridor the occasional porter's trolley added to the soundtrack. The room was littered with bright burning candles, shadows danced across the walls. Helena had bought the candles herself that day.
She loathed clinical modern day lighting; it gave her a headache and made her feel on edge. She sat perched on the edge of an oversized leather chair; a small bowl lay at her ankles. She dipped her hands in and out of the bowl and used a sharp wooden splint to remove the day's grit from beneath her nails. How much time had passed she did not know. She dried her hands and held them up for inspection. The skin had become ultra soft and wrinkled all over. Helena thought the hand washing must have lasted for at least an hour judging by her fingertips. Her hands currently looked like they actually belonged to a woman who was born in 1866. The wrinkles would go and her skin would return to its normal state. She wondered if she could see her mind as a physical body part, would it also look its true age. Her Bronzing had preserved her body in its 33 year old state but her mind had remained active, therefore aged over 100 years.
Helena watched one particular shadow on the wall. There was nothing in the room that could possibly be casting it. She heard a voice whisper her name as the shadow moved of its own accord. It left the wall and leaked onto the floor spilling outward toward her chair. It stopped at her feet and reconstructed itself into the previous form it had held on the wall. Helena spoke to the entity.
"Hello Charles."
She burst into brief laughter, tears filled her eyes. She pinched the skin at the top of her nose and cursed herself. Madness still sat with her and she fought bravely to fend it off, but she feared being bronzed had already taken too much from her. She must act quickly and gain entry to the Warehouse if she was to lay all her demons to rest.
She had spent the day reading up on both the 20th and 21st century. There had been much progress in the world of invention but morals and empathy had stagnated on an epic scale. The villain in Helena always held great sympathy for the devil. The bible had been forced on her as a child and as an adult. Her darker self believed Lucifer challenging god on the decision of giving the earth to the human race as a valid grievance. God created man with the ability to choose whether to love him or not. Whereas the angels had no choice, they were made to love god without question. In the dark times running up to her being bronzed the idea that Gods vanity had inflicted the human race on the earth was cemented in her mind. Humans did not deserve this planet. Lucifer was right.
She shook these dark thoughts from her mind. The hero in her had saved Claudia and Myka's lives. Her main focus was to get back into the warehouse. She would do whatever was needed to attain that goal. If playing the villain achieved this then so be it. The seduction of Myka she would view as sport. Tomorrow she would hunt down Artie in D.C. Helena had heard news of the death of Agent Dickenson; surely he would attend the service.
The cemetery was packed with members of the Secret Service paying respect. Helena knew she was taking a risk being there but needed to prove her value to Artie. She had to get into the warehouse in an official capacity. She spied Agent Lattimer and chuckled at the memory of his mediocre kissing. Artie appeared as stubborn and awkward as ever.
Helena manoeuvred herself into a different part of the cemetery and spotted a grieving Myka. She paused wanting to walk away unseen. Convincing herself Myka was a mere route into the Warehouse, she silently approached.
"It's a bloody rotten business."
Myka jumped out of her skin, her heart stalled and her stomach felt as though it had released a thousand wayward butterflies. Helena was beautiful; she could not look at her though.
"What are you doing here?" Myka sounded tired.
Helena did not respond. Clearly Artie had rained Myka in, attempting to sober her view of her.
Myka spoke plainly, still refusing to look at Helena.
"I want know exactly why they bronzed you."
Helena thought Myka's question to be walking into very personal territory. She would answer though if it would win her over.
"I asked to be bronzed."
Myka found this unbelievable. Bronzing was barbaric to her and she could not think of any sane reason to choose it.
"I'm afraid I'd gone quite mad."
Helena lamented on the loss of her daughter, her face looked strained and woeful. Myka saw truth in Helena's revelations. Thinking it pure torture to be so inventive and resourceful but not able to protect your own child. She had seen that look before. Too many times had she broken the news to a parent on their Childs demise and seen even the strongest of souls wither and die in front of her, they would never be the same again.
Helena had hurt herself too much now. Why she had exposed so much of herself to Myka she did not know. She sat solidly on the bench next to what was meant to be her prey. If Myka attempted to comfort her she would refuse it.
"I will talk to Artie."
"Thank you."
Helena stood to leave, she would follow Myka back to South Dakota in the hopes Artie could be convinced she was trustworthy. Before retreating back into the shadows she spoke to Myka.
"Myka, I'm sorry about your friend."
Helena did not care for Agent Dickenson but found it difficult to ignore Mykas sadness. The idea Myka was mere sport was becoming unrealistic. This concerned Helena, she would not be distracted from her endgame?
Back at Leena's bed and breakfast Pete attempted to improve Mykas mood. He lay sockless on the couch acting out various impressions using quotes from movies. The idea was to guess the character. Claudia and Leena were the most active participants. Myka sat back and watched Pete's performances, he was a great guy. For the third time Claudia played Pete the voice greeting by HG. Claudia switched to speaker phone and Helena's accent filled the room. Pete stuck out his bottom lip and threw a cushion at a gloating Claudia. The voice sliced through Myka, she stood up immediately and made her excuses heading off up to the sanctuary of her room. Claudia kicked herself mentally, Pete was clueless and thought Myka depressed over Dickenson.
Breaking and entering had not changed or become any more difficult for Helena. She entered Myka's room and was pleasantly surprised. She had imagined seeing certificates on the walls, perhaps trophies from various extracurricular activities. Helena had envisioned a large photo of Myka shaking hands with some over paid SS commander, him celebrating her entry into the world of protecting her fellow American. She scanned the walls for the presence of the stars and stripes that most Americans in her experience clung to. None of these things were present. There was a picture on the side of a young Myka and what Helena guessed her Father. The bed was neatly made, thankfully no Teddy Bear insight. Hundreds of books, new and old stood from wall to wall. Helena estimated there to be close to 300 in this room. They were of course alphabetised; she searched for her own work only to find a book sized gap.
"Pete has it."
Myka had slipped in unnoticed behind Helena. She closed the door and folded her arms across her chest.
"Do you think me a vain woman"? Helena grinned carelessly.
"Yes I do."
Myka smiled sweetly, Helena thought it changed her whole being totally. She scoffed at Mykas honest response.
"Well in for a penny in for a pound, if I'm found to be vain I may as well ask"... "Which title has Mr Lattimer loaned from you?"
"The Time Machine."
Myka looked on at her expression.
"I know, I was shocked myself... he can read."
Myka quickly eyed the room for her gun and found it shoved down the back of Helena's pants. Myka was meant to notice this.
"I see you found my gun."
"Yes, I would have thought you more careful."
"Will I be needing it?"
"I haven't decided yet."
Helena still had her back to Myka taunting her with the view of her own weapon. She continued to scan all of Mykas books like a tourist at St Pauls Cathedral. Gob smacked by the sheer number.
"You have exquisite taste Agent Bering"
"Are you being vain again?"
Helena bounced down on Mykas bed and leaned back on her elbows, crossing her leather boots at the ankle. She smirked back at Myka as she allowed her a better view of her form. Myka couldn't help but look and failed to decide on Helena's best feature. It wasn't just an animalistic coveting; she thought Helena looked as if she belonged in her room. Myka averted her eyes and suddenly released the breath she had been holding onto for the last minute.
Helena rose from the bed and walked the outer circumference of the room, she liked being in here it was as if she was in Mykas headspace. A singular glass cabinet stood alone in the far corner. Inside must have only housed 10-12 books, all first editions.
"Are these books the property of the warehouse?"
"No their mine, my family owns a bookstore."
Helena edged closer to the cabinet. The lighting in Myka room was soft and from a distance she could not make out the titles. The spines of the books were tattered and the mass of white pages speckled brown baring testimony to their age. The gold embossed lettering of authors names were there if not quite complete.
Helena stopped dead in her tracks as if shot with a freeze gun. The colour drained from her face and she breathed in sharply. Myka noticed this very uncharacteristic mannerism.
"HG, are you alright?"
Her heart broke and her mind spiralled. Staring back from the cabinet the thick red leather encased book greeted her again after all this time, an old friend indeed. With its demons head embossed at the summit of its spine and matching motive on the cover. The gold letters of its author lay fractured and worn but she knew its name all the same, STOKER.
"My goodness, she whispered."
Myka spotted Helena's assailant
"That books probably as old as you."
"Not quite, Helena corrected her."
"I can open the cabinet if you like." Myka walked towards H.G
"No no, that's absolutely unnecessary."
Myka thought Helena afraid, yet another trait she had never witnessed in her before."
"I have...I had the same edition myself; I didn't think you a fan of the macabre Agent Bering."
"Macabre, that's not the word id use."
"How so?"
"What is this now, book club?"
Myka had deflected Helena's attempts on conversation and regretted it instantly. Myka had good reason for the evasion; she did not know how to articulate her feelings. She was not a fan of horror but had always loved Dracula, Stokers work that is. Myka thought the book very romantic. Pete loved Werewolf's, Monsters and Vampires, basically any character you could get a tacky outfit for on Halloween. Myka thought them all ridiculous. Claudia had tried on many occasion to frog march her to see the movie Twilight, Myka point blank refused. She had no interest in 90210 bite me.
"Very well then, open the cabinet." Helena softly spoke.
Myka did as instructed and manoeuvred the classic out from its secure settings and passed it Helena. The book felt heavy in her hands, Helena appeared emotional and lost. Myka was transfixed. She wanted to encircle Helena into her arms from behind. She pondered how Helena would react?
"This blasted book will not take its leave of me Myka."
Myka felt giddy at the use of her forename. The room remained silent but for the lashing of errant tree branches whipping the window, the rain assaulted Mykas window.
Myka thought Helena the most beautiful thing she had ever seen; she bravely broke her own silence.
"My favourite part is Draculas death."
"But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat. Whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the heart. It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight. I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there."
"The point is Dracula was not always a villain, he was driven by love. That book is about eternity, to love somebody for so long and deeply that it sends you mad. To know that only one person can stop you from causing others pain."
"I rather thought it about blood and sex." Now Helena deflected.
"I guess that's in there to, I'm sad for you if that's all you see."
For the first time in their meetings Helena felt at Mykas mercy, she had feared on first sight of Myka that there was something within that she wouldn't be able to control as she so loved to do. Not the laborious questioning not he muscle or duty to her colleagues it was this depth of romantic nature. Myka did not belong in this time frame and neither did she.
Helena walked painfully slow towards Myka as if injured, still clutching the withered old book in her hands. Stopping inches from Myka she stretched up and gently kissed her once on her lips and stepped back. It was a quick kiss but Myka felt a surge of pure energy engulf her.
Helena placed the book down and returned to face Myka.
At an almost mute volume she whispered.
"Do you think me the villain?"
Helena placed her hands on Mykas biceps. She gently squeezed the supple wiry muscles running her hands down towards her forearms and capturing Myka's trebling hands in her own.
Myka exhaled with heartache.
"Yes, you are capable."
Helena let go of one of Mykas hands and placed it on Mykas midriff running it down to rest on her belt buckle. Her stomach was as toned as Helena had hoped. She placed her mouth to Myka's ear
"Do you care?"
Myka was cemented in place with arousal.
"I have to care."
"That's not what I asked you darling."
Myka could not answer; she did not want to even consider her own thoughts. Helena gently tugged at the belt buckle and Myka moved closer. Myka closed her eyes and lowered her head letting her brow rest against Helena's. She heard her metal belt buckle clunk open and the leather slip through its grasp. Helena placed the zipper between her thumb and index and slowly pulled in down.
Myka found her speech.
"We can't do this here"
"Agent Bering, id say this is rather overdue."
Next chapter: Sex ,Trust and video tape.