Artificer & Phile

Chapter Five, The Hatchet

Summary: Myka is not currently a secret service agent. She has the credentials but after Denver she needed to get away from the bad memories. So at 29, she takes a leave of absence and is presently an associate professor at Hudson University, a totally made up college in NYC. She studies and teaches 19th century literature and teaches one class every semester on early science fiction and fantasy. It is her most popular class.

Notes: This is where the story will (kinda) pick up on canon. Myka meets Mrs. F and heads to the warehouse, because, as Helena says, that place did already have it's claws in her.

Enjoy everyone, and special thanks to Spockette for the amazing beta (and britpick)!

She didn't know how to process what was going on around her. Disbelief colored Myka's every feature as she couched, half-hidden from view, behind a bookshelf. What was Helena doing here? What were Pete and Claudia up to – what did the hatchet that that girl was carrying have to do with anything?

Myka bit her lip, glancing around as she did so, trying to find cover, trying to advance closer to the conversation. Her training had taken over; this was what she had been taught to do from day one in training during hostile situations. She was alert, ready to spring into action if she had to protect or diffuse the situation.

Inwardly, her mind was in turmoil. She didn't know who the hell these people where, or why the fuck they shot a kid. Myka couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around how Helena knew them, or why she was professing her innocence while staring them down behind the barrel of a gun. It just didn't make any sense. None of this did.

"I am not the enemy here," Myka looked up from the floor to Pete to Helena to the floor again. The girl was starting to twitch, coming to, she supposed. She shifted, keeping her body low to the ground as she moved to check on the girl.

Pete leveled his … god it must have been something like a ray gun at Helena and Myka swallowed. If this was all some elaborate steampunk fantasy game on both of their parts, Myka was going to flip the fuck out. She couldn't handle much more of this, there was only so much a person could take before the felt like they were truly going completely and utterly mad. "I don't know, lady. You've done enough damage already."

Helena took a step forward, one hand lowering to the bag at her hip. She reached into it and produced a metallic bag similar to the one that Myka had seen Claudia holding earlier. She bent and scooped the hatchet into it, tilting her head off to one side as she did so. Myka had to raise her hand to cover her eyes as the bag sparked and sputtered violently and brightly. "I had no intention of ever coming out of there," Helena hissed, her eyes were dark, almost frightening. Myka was shaken by the coldness of her words, by how much hatred was clearly held within them. "Your man decided that I was to be his patsy."

"So you just up and killed him?" Pete adjusted his grip on the gun. "We don't do that!"

Helena raised an eyebrow and Myka felt the color drain from her face. Helena had killed someone? She didn't believe it, or at least, not without asking about it. Obviously there was more to this than met the eye. Myka cringed, thinking of how haunted Helena had seemed the night before, maybe there was some truth to it after all.

They obviously knew each other , after all. But Pete and Claudia were… well, they weren't exactly traditional Secret Service agents. Myka still wasn't entirely sure she even could even believe that they were that, badges, after all, could be faked.

She'd have to ask.

Her breath came in uneven pulls, shaky and fearful. She had to calm down or else she wasn't going to be able to make good decisions.

"And here I was thinking that I had done you lot a favor." Helena shrugged. She bent, set the silvery-metallic bag on the floor and tucked the stun gun into the back of her pants. Myka watched as she turned and smoothed her jacket flat. "Your revolutionaries and their artifacts…" She shook her head.

Pete lowered his gun and Claudia moved out from behind the bookshelf. The girl stirred under Myka's touch and she backed away. She felt awkward, like she shouldn't be there, like she was intruding on a conversation that she could only just barely follow.

"I'm calling an ambulance for her," Pete muttered to Claudia, who nodded. The red head began checking vital signs, Myka knew the progression well and knew that she was no-longer needed.

She stood, hesitantly backing away as Pete spoke quickly and efficiently to the 911 operator. He was a smooth liar, talking in circles and explaining that a girl had gotten accidentally electrocuted because of all the water leaks that the university had been experiencing today.

When Myka was sure that he was completely occupied, she pushed off, sprinting off after Helena. She had to catch her, had to figure out what was going on. She didn't know – Helena would tell her.

"Helena!" she shouted at the smaller woman's retreating figure. Her chest felt like it was full of lead, but Myka kept moving, hurrying towards the woman who had somehow stolen her heart out from under her. The woman who knew far more than she was letting on about everything that was going on.

Helena stopped, turning to watch as Myka drew level with her. They were deep in the stacks now, Myka knew that there was a fire exit just off the next row and that that was probably where Helena had come in from.

She was panting, out of breath. "Is it true?" Myka gasped out, staring at Helena with wide and disbelieving eyes. She couldn't believe it, refused to. There was no way someone as wonderful as Helena could have actually hurt someone – let alone killed them. Myka would not accept that reality.

Brown eyes, full of hurt that Myka had never quite seen before, turned to face her. Helena took a step forward, her hand coming to rest on Myka's shoulder. "I should have known you would find yourself involved with all of this," Helena muttered, her accent thick with emotion.

Myka's back hit the bookshelf behind her and Helena came even closer, she was still talking – it almost sounded like what Helena was saying was not meant for Myka's ears at all. "You are so innocent to all this, and yet that place already has its claws in you," She kissed Myka's cheek, kissed her forehead. "I am so sorry, Myka."

"Sorry for what?" Myka breathed. She couldn't think. Helena was pressed up against her, eyes darkly intense.

She could feel Helena's sigh on her lips, "Please remember that I am not the enemy." Helena leaned forward and closed the distance between them, her lips were hot on Myka's – and full of desperation and promise. Myka kissed her back with everything that she did not know how to say. She was beginning to feel as though she had fallen in love with Helena Wells, and there was a good chance that Helena would soon disappear again.

Helena's fingers ran down Myka's front, her eyes never leaving Myka's as their lips parted. Myka was out of breath, but Helena seemed barely phased. "Remember."

And then she was gone, Myka heard the fire door open and close and the rapid approach of footsteps. Her fingers flew to her lips to touch where Helena had just kissed her so commandingly.

"Dude," Came the voice of Pete Lattimer, Myka turned to see both he and Claudia hurrying their way down the long corridor of bookshelves towards her. He skidded to a stop in front of Myka and gave her what must have been the best semblance of a bright and friendly smile he could. "HG Wells just kissed you!"

Myka opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. She didn't know what to say. "HG Wells..?" She turned to stare off in the direction of where Helena had disappeared to, disbelief clearly written across every aspect of her visage.

x

"What is that thing?" Myka asked Pete as they sat next to the girl – Jessica Carter – at the ambulance. She didn't remember anything that had happened in the library, for which Myka was grateful. She gestured to the metallic bag that Helena had put the hatchet in. It was sitting across Pete's lap.

Pete gave Myka a rueful smile, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Myka stuck out her chin defiantly, but Pete drew his finger across his lips and mimed throwing away the key. Myka wondered if he was even an adult or just an overgrown child and shook her head as he waggled his eyebrows at her. She couldn't help it, it was rather endearing.

She reached for the bag in his lap, curious as to the contents. She'd seen the hatchet, and how the bag had sparked when Helena had put it in there, but Myka could not for the life of her figure out how that had happened. It looked like just an ordinary hatchet, used for cutting wood and the like. She'd used one when she and her parents had gone camping when she was a kid.

Back when everything in her life had made sense.

Pete shifted, his shoulders tensing through the fabric of his t-shirt and he laid his hand across Myka's and shook his head. "Just don't," he said quietly. "There are things that you shouldn't know."

Myka hated need-to-know stuff like this, she really truly did. She knew better than to question it; she had been trained to respect the work that her compatriots did. Sometimes just knowing would be enough to put their lives into danger, Myka did not want to take that risk ever again.

She stared out at the scene before her. Students milling around, gawking as firefighters hurried in and out of the building – a gas main had somehow broken in the confusion of Jessica Carter's attacking her boyfriend with the hatchet. It had begun to drizzle, and Myka pulled her jacket more closely around her body, shivering against the cold.

Her lips still burned, she couldn't get the feel of Helena pressed so completely against her out of her mind.

From the back seat of Pete's rented SUV, Claudia was moodily clicking away at something on the computer. Myka turned to watch her through the window of the car. It wasn't tinted, she could see the hurt and disbelief clearly written across Claudia's expressive face. This mission had apparently not gone as well as Claudia had hoped, Myka knew that look well.

"She's a junior agent," Pete had offered by way of explanation when the NYPD had rolled up and he'd flashed his badge at them to explain away his presence. They'd questioned him more, but Pete's voice commanded authority and Myka was impressed by how he'd managed to corral all of their doubt and push it into a better course of action – evacuating the building.

Myka could see how young Claudia was; she could a lot of herself – ten years ago – in Claudia. It was a little unnerving, honestly.

Claudia was glaring at her over her laptop screen, as if daring Myka to do something. Myka shifted and nudged Pete, "What's up with her?" She hadn't meant to ask, but the question fell out of her mouth before she'd had time to fully think it through. It wasn't her place, or any of her business, really.

"The woman who kissed you earlier – Helena, you said her name was?" Pete sighed and fingered the metallic bag in his lap. "We know her because she killed someone who was threatening the only place Claudia's ever called home."

Then why is she so angry with me? Myka thought desperately. It didn't make any sense.

There, again. Helena had killed someone. Myka couldn't abide by that. "Did she really?" Myka still wasn't sure she believed it.

Pete nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I really can't tell you much more than that, but be careful around her. She isn't who she seems."

Myka later decided that Pete thinks he's a big damn hero and wants to point out that sometimes it's better to talk to other people on your quest to save the world. Not everyone can go at it alone.

They left a few minutes later, fading into nothingness as Myka stayed with Jessica Carter to make sure she got home safely. She took the train all the way to Jessica's stop in Brooklyn before she felt confident that the girl was going to make it home in one piece.

And then Myka walked. She'd gone nearly fifteen blocks before she found another subway station and slowly made her way home. The train moved sluggishly through the spitting rain and Myka stared out at each passing stop that took her further downtown, closer to her tiny and unwelcoming apartment.

There would be no comfort there. No explanation for everything that she had seen or witnessed today. All there would be was an empty bed and the sense that maybe she was going about this whole 'healing' thing all wrong.

Myka unlocked the door wearily and flipped on the light. Everything was in its place – there was no breaking and entering this time around. She was almost grateful for that.

She crossed into the kitchen and opened the cupboard over the sink. Her fingers touched the cool of one of the shot glasses that had survived her college years as well as the time she'd spent in Denver. She pulled down the glass, and then the bottle next to it.

Good whiskey, as a rule, should be savored and sipped. Myka had taken after her father in that respect, curling up with a good book and a glass of this stuff, contemplating the words of long dead writers long after she should be in bed. Tonight, however, Myka did not want to sip and savor the drink, she wanted to forget what she'd seen.

Shot in hand, she closed her eyes and threw it back, enjoying the feel of the whiskey as it burned its way down through her stomach and settled there, warmth spreading outwards. She coughed, just a little, and poured herself a glass of water out of the pitcher she'd set to filter yesterday in the refrigerator.

A post it note fluttered down the door Myka pushed it shut and she bent, water glass still in hand to find a phone number in hand writing clearly not her own. She stared at it for a minute, memorizing the numbers, before tucking the note into her pocket.

Something creaked from her bedroom and Myka started, eyes narrowing. "Who's there?"

She couldn't take much more of this. Her nerves were shot and Myka knew if this happened any more, she was going to start to get paranoid. She'd just finally relaxed enough to get over what had happened with Sam – she couldn't take a relapse.

Plus it was goddamn annoying. Did anyone have any respect for privacy anymore?

"Turn the light on," Myka's hand shot out and hit the switch above the stove. There was a dark-skinned woman with horn-rimmed glasses sitting at one of the stools above the island. A tall, thick-looking man stood behind her, mute and menacing. Myka dropped her glass and backed up against the refrigerator, water soaking into her socks and pant legs. "Myka Bering, you have been reinstated."

Her hands shook and Myka's eyes narrowed, peering at the woman, "Sorry, what?" She knew that she should be lunging for her phone, dialing the cops, the super, anyone who could potentially get her out of this situation with a crazy person sitting at her kitchen island as though it was the most innocent thing in the world.

The woman bridged her fingers and pursed her lips, "Myka Bering, I am offering you a ticket out of this dead-end job."

Myka opened and closed her mouth several times – confusion clearly written across her face.

"You are a secret service agent, one of the most promising young minds if the reports are to be believed – you do not belong here." The woman had a kind look about her, but she was so damn intimidating that Myka didn't dare make a move for a weapon. She didn't think she could take down the goon that this woman had with her that easily. Probably weighed a third of what he did.

So she played along. She leaned forward, eyes still cautious and asked, "Then where do I belong?"

Myka was pretty sure she knew already. It was the same reason that she'd followed Pete and Claudia across the green and into that potentially hazardous situation in the library at Hudson. The same reason that she'd chased after Helena and had stuck around after to make sure that Pete and Claudia – as well as Jessica Carter – were okay.

She loved teaching, loved her work, but it was not her true calling.

"You're bringing me back…" Myka breathed.

The dark-skinned woman smiled, slow, menacing. Myka shivered despite herself.

The security guy held up a packet of papers and a three-ring binder so thick that Myka wasn't entirely sure how it remained closed. Papers were practically burgeoning forth from the seams and when it finally found its way into her outstretched hands, Myka was shocked at how heavy it was. She shifted it onto the counter, in front of the dark haired woman and turned to the envelope.

"You have a flight out of LaGuardia tomorrow at three." The woman's lip curled. She nodded to the gigantic binder on the countertop. "And there is some in-flight reading."

That was it; Myka couldn't handle it any more. Her hands clenched into fists and she practically spat the words, "Just who are you?"

She was trying to be subtle, shifting her weight, but her body motions fell short when she read the codes along the top of the paper. They were legit, and from as near to the top as they could be. She swallowed, knowing that going for the knife she'd left in the sink yesterday morning wasn't the best plan. She didn't know what to do.

"My name is Frederic, you work for me now."

A million thoughts flew through Myka's brain. She knew that she could not directly disobey an order, not one as high-ranking as this. Thoughts of the life she had in New York, at Hudson. She had a few acquaintances there, no one who would really miss her other than a few of her students and Helena. Oh god, Helena who was apparently not who she said she was. Myka swallowed, processing one thing at a time, "But my classes, I can't just up and leave…"

"That will be taken care of." Frederic stood, her eyes flashing dangerously as she pulled the coat that she'd draped over the countertop back onto her shoulders. "You have until noon tomorrow to tie up any loose ends here. That does not include seeking out the woman you've been seeing, Agent Bering."

Myka blinked – was there anything this woman didn't know? "Helena?"

Frederic nodded. Her eyes looked almost pained as Myka's hand fell to the pocket of her jeans, resting on the carefully folded note concealed there. "Take the note she left you and go to where you're told. All will be explained in time." Frederic straightened her coat. "Your relationship with her may prove useful yet."

Myka frowned, she would not be used. It wasn't fair – not how the government worked at all. She felt like she was being shanghaied into going to wherever it was that she was being sent. She didn't want to go, there were so many questions that she didn't have the answers to right now. She was afraid, terrified, that she would do wrong.

She was a member of the US Secret Service. If called upon, she was always ready to do her sworn duty.

"Wait…" She said, flipping open the envelope, they were sending her to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. "What should I bring with me?"

Frederic's smile was cool and collected, "Pack light. We'll ship what you need and store the rest." Frederic paused, "Also we will take care of the fact that you broke your lease."

She mouths her thanks and Frederic sweeps her way out of the door, her voice calling down the hall, "In time, Agent Bering."

x

Have been called out of Secret Service retirement, will call when I arrive on assignment.

The text, Myka felt, read stupidly. She was standing in a town in the middle of nowhere – a town that she wasn't even sure had a name. Her rental car was currently parked at a gas station and her apparent destination as just ten miles away from her.

The drive from Sioux Falls had been long and entirely too boring. There was nothing but conservative talk and country music on the radio and Myka wasn't entirely in the mood for either and the badlands stretched out for miles in front of her in every direction. There was, quite literally, nothing to see here. It was as unknown as it came. Myka was exhausted, and the reading that she'd done on the flight over here had been informative, but terrifying and confusing.

Apparently there were things that went bump in the night, and she was going to become one of those who bumped back.

Not that she believed in any of that, but she had seen how the other agents who worked at this 'Warehouse' had functioned in the field and Myka wasn't entirely sure that she wanted anything to do with it.

So she sent Helena a text and went inside to pay cash for her gas because the pump didn't accept credit cards. She hoped that Helena wouldn't be angry – as she was apparently somehow connected to this place as well – that she wouldn't judge Myka for taking the chance when she could.

She climbed back into the rental just as her phone rang, Jefferies, from Hudson. She answered it, "Bering."

"Myka, where the fuck are you?" Jefferies' voice was loud and brash and entirely New York, Myka winced and put the car into gear, shifting as one tentatively does in a new car – unsure of where the clutch catches. "You have classes this morning that you're completely skipped."

"Alan," Myka began, taking a deep breath and turning where the onboard GPS indicated. "I'm really sorry, something's come up that I cannot actively refuse." She shook her head. He was an academic, he had no idea how to cope with the duty and obligation that came with being a Secret Service agent. He couldn't know.

"Myka, unless the fucking president himself ordered you to wherever you're going you get your ass back here right now -" But Myka didn't hear any more. She'd dropped the phone onto the seat next to her, amid the remains of the sandwich she'd eaten for lunch and her carry-on bag from the airplane. She felt oddly at peace, as though she was doing something for herself, for once.

This wasn't about Sam, or about her father. This was about Myka Bering.

Myka pushed the accelerator and sped off down the town's single road. Dust curled around the back of her car and soon she was once again driving with nothing but the badlands surrounding her.

"Turn right," There was a gate just next to the road, metal and rusted over. Recent tire tracks cut across the grass there and Myka could see a clear trail heading off into the distance and over a ridge. This place, Myka realized, whatever it was, was going to be hell in the winter.

She stopped the car, got out and opened the gate. She didn't think that she should leave it open, so she eased the car into first and slowly made her way across the gate's threshold and then stopped again and closed it. It felt strange, like she was coming home. She'd never been here before, but it felt more right than teaching ever had.

As Myka drove over the grassy ridge, a large building came into view, built into the side of a rocky outcropping of hills. She drove closer and could see several cars parked out in front of it. Myka exhaled, staring up at the rusty shell of a building, noting the satellite and radio antennas on top of the roof. Obviously, this place was far more advanced than its outward appearance let on.

She parked next to an older looking Grand AM – and got out. Her suit felt ill-fitting in the heat of the sun, but Myka exhaled quietly. This was new, this was different, this almost felt like belonging.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, fingers dancing over the keys. She didn't know what to tell Helena, but she had to say something, she owed Helena that much.

Wish you could see this place.