Disclaimer: I don't own anything or ever want to own anything related to Warehouse 13 or make any profit as a result of its production. It has provided a platform for the creation and development of my personal world. For that I say thank you.

A/N: Thank you for all comments and reviews. They are always appreciated and considered. Keep crying, keep laughing. Without one, you can't have the other.


"I don't know, Artie. It just happened," Claudia snapped back.

"I thought you said it was fixed?" He leaned over the railing rubbing his forehead.

"No, I didn't. What I said was it stopped and I don't know why and Mrs. F. isn't being very helpful with the whole guide the intern and let her figure it out routine." Claudia stared at the growing cloud, more ominous than before. "I'm just going to have to go back in."

Pete looked at her doubtfully when his phone rang. "Um, are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure and come on, Pete, will you grow up and change that ring tone already."

Artie smiled behind the hand rubbing his face.

"Hey, it saved my life once!"

"Sort of, and Myka's been running interference between you two ever since. One of these days she's just going to let HG knock you down." Claudia pointed out.

He made a face at her answering his phone. "Mykes?" He pointed at his phone rapidly for everyone else's benefit before walking into the office. "Hey, it's like midnight. Where are you guys? You keep sending all these really lame postcards."

"Well, yeah, I'm kind of up. Warehouse stuff, ya know?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. What's going on? Why are you calling me at midnight? You okay? Okay, okay...that was a stupid question. Please don't cry. Oh, geez...I hate when you cry on the phone…"

"You what?! When? Oh, Mykes that is so not cool. That is like girlfriend mistake number one. What were you thinking?"

"Mykes, listen to me. She has every right to be upset with you and you have no right to hold that against her. You didn't even know you were attracted to her, well okay, maybe you did, but it's not like you 'knew' or did anything about it. We all had to pull your head out of the sand. She should have been doing the horizontal hokey pokey with anyone she wanted to. After a century I would have. You know kind of lubricating the old kinks…and you've got to admit…"

"Okay, maybe not the best example…"

"Wait a minute…she never…ever? You? Seriously?" He fumbled with his phone trying not to drop it. "Until you. Ahem. You're joking, right? No! Of course not. Well, you know." He scratched his head. "Come on, Mykes, you know I hate it when you drag me into your sex life. Okay, well, maybe I don't hate it that much, but really? You? Okay, okay. I'm sorry. You. Huh. If she never, ever, you know…then what's the big deal?"

"Are you even listening to yourself? I'm sorry, Myka, but you're kind of being a big jerk and I think you need to pull your head out of your...Myka? Myka?"

He stared at his phone and then out at the two arguing on the deck overlooking the warehouse. Scratching his head, he walked out on the deck. "Claudia, did you know they were fighting?"

"Huh?" She looked at him over her shoulder.

"Myka just hung up on me. They're fighting and she didn't really like my pep talk."

"They're always fighting," Artie mumbled, waved him off with his hand.

"Yeah, that's why it's so awkward when they make up." Claudia tried to brush it off.

"No, they don't. Always fight that is. They sort of banter. The makeup part, yeah, that's awkward. What I mean by fighting is like, not good fighting, and she wouldn't tell me where they were and it's like midnight. Does that," he pointed to the cloud, "have anything to do with that?" He pointed to his phone. "Because I think it does."

Artie joined Pete's interest in Claudia.

Claudia looked from one to the other, smiling crookedly. "Maybe?" She shrugged.

"Claudia…" Artie started.


"Get up," Michael demanded, throwing the grungy clothes at her prone body spread across the bed. She twisted around sitting up straight with a jerk, disoriented, when her head became a target for the towel that followed.

"There. You'll find what you need in the bathroom. You need a shower and you definitely need a new change of clothes. When was the last time you had a shower?"

She flopped back down on the bed with a groan, rubbing her temples. "Whatever God awful day I left for this island. I'm not that bad, am I?"

"That was almost three days ago. What do you think? I have seen you in worse shape, but that's not saying much, is it? Now get in the shower and clean up. Does your wife know where you are?"

"I really have no idea. And she's not my wife," she snapped back.

"Testy, testy. Alright then, whatever she is to you, you are not facing her smelling like a drunken sewer rat, and face her soon you shall. Drink this." He handed her a glass of water. "How much more did you drink before showing up at my door? Never mind. I know your capacity. Gunter will feed you what you wish." Helena gave him a quizzical look. "He has done a very good job in keeping me unnoticed. Something I'll now need to alter, thanks to you. You always were a pain in my ass. Please, pull up that sheet while you drink that."

Helena looked down at herself, doing as he requested. "It never seemed to bother you before." An impish grin spread across her face as she sipped the water slowly, struggling to keep it down.

"Why would it? You teased me enough in the past. In part, I think it is your nature. However, I've met what you truly struggled with and I'm trying to keep you from losing her. Now get in the shower. Your present state is rather repulsive and I'm sure you'll agree when you see yourself in the mirror."

Helena got up off the bed. Wrapped in the sheet she grabbed her clothes. Her face screwed up in disgust. "Yes, a change of clothing is in order."

"There have been some new developments I need to look into. I will gather some clean clothes for you."

"Don't expect a warm welcome," Helena tossed over her shoulder, dragging the sheet behind her walking into the bathroom.

A foot stopped the door from shutting. "I don't. I don't know what is going on between the two of you, but I suspect both parties are at fault. Don't screw this one up."

Helena stared at the tiled floor, refusing to look at the reminder of her past.

"Tell me, Helena, when did you start to carry a gun? I was never able to convince you before, so why now?"

She looked directly into the hazel eyes above boring straight through her. "I'll do anything to protect Myka. I don't need full use of my left hand to be a straight shot."

"Anything?"

"Yes."

"Good, because I don't think you're going to be very happy with what that may entail." He pulled his foot out and left her staring at the room's door.


Michael heard the distinct sound of the safety being released from the service revolver when he looked down at the gun pointing at him.

"What are you doing here?" her cold voice asked.

"You're an early riser. Good." Michael held a hand up with the key hanging from his middle finger as a form of supplication. "I believe it is not MY head you wish to be pointing that at, but rather that of a certain arrogant, stubborn, cocky, pain in the ass we both know that is presently showering in my small abode. She is in desperate need of a change of clothes, though. If you would be so kind," he pulled a plastic grocery bag out of his pocket, "I'd be very grateful if you could provide me that change of clothing."

"She spent the night with you." Myka dropped the arm holding the weapon down and yanked the key from his finger.

"Not exactly how I would describe it, but yes, she spent the night at my place. I procured the key from her pocket before throwing her clothes at her."

"You threw her clothes at her. So, she wasn't wearing them?" Myka's eyebrows rose at this news.

"Ah, yes, well it would seem this is not going quite as well as I'd hoped." Michael took one step back towards the door.

"Oh, just sit down." Myka, exasperated, gestured to the chair with her gun before putting it away. "I know nothing happened." She laughed harshly. "You aren't any better at this than she is. She always talks herself into a corner with me. Anyone else and she'd have them in the corner, most likely gagged, by now." Myka leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, looking out the cloudy window into the quiet street.

"Not that I'm the best judge of things of this nature, but I'd say the difference lies in the fact that she loves you." He casually leaned back in the chair crossing his legs.

"You are not the best choice of allies for her, right now." She glanced at him.

"I'm not really an ally. I'm here to get her some clothes so we can all have a little chat, elsewhere."

"Why didn't you just knock on the door?" She backed away from the window.

"Honestly, it never really occurred to me. Professional habits? I didn't think you'd be here or you'd still be asleep, I suppose."

Myka shook her head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the statement and laughed outright. "Oh, what a pair the two of you must have been. Perfect match made in Heaven."

"Not at all. I was never her equal and she was always fighting an internal battle. A battle centered around you, apparently. Don't look so surprised. I knew she could never be completely invested in me. Despite all of my efforts and charm she never would, well, never mind that." He sighed. He had bigger fish to fry than a jealous wife. "She was fighting you. She was never able to let go of you long enough to commit to anything other than a distorted association with me. You have no reason to be jealous. She was yours long before even she knew it. I suspect that only you know the real Helena."

He placed both hands quickly on his knees and stood up. "Now, as much as I am enjoying this little chat, I am not a marriage counselor and there have been some developments that we need to discuss."

"Does it have anything to do with the white car that's been parked on the corner since she left last night? Now it's your turn to not look so surprised." Myka leaned down to grab Helena's bag from the corner it was kicked into the day before and threw it over to him. "You'll probably want this. I don't think we'll be coming back here, do you?"

Catching the small bag with a surprised "oomph", he smiled, handing her a small paper and a card key. "Meet us here in the next hour. It's your new room. Leave those keys on the table." He watched Myka try to process the information thrown at her. "I'm sorry for the circumstances in which we've met. I actually like you very much, Myka. Whatever was broken between the two of you, it must be made right. She's a very lucky lady."

"I always thought I was the lucky one," Myka said, sadly glancing out the window again.

"Now I know it was always you." He nodded, heading towards the door.

Myka turned away from the window, looking at him confused. "What?"

"She said the very same thing last night before breaking down in tears. I've never seen her cry before, nor have I ever seen her carry a gun." He started to open the door.

"Wait. What did you say? She hates guns."

He paused with his hand on the door knob. "Yet she carries one to protect you, not a tesla. 'Times have changed' were her words. Why do you think?"

"You love her, don't you?" Myka blurted out at the realization.

"No more than an hour. Don't be late." He shut the door behind him.


Helena quickly turned her head toward the door just before Myka inserted the card key and opened the door. Myka's eyes flashed a cold look before softening at the tired, sad eyes pleading to her from across the room. Like the day before, she dropped her bag on the bed.

"So, this isn't half bad. A little more public than I expected. Nice scenery," Myka commented, glancing out the window.

"The whole point right now is not to look like you know they are there. Didn't they teach you that in the Secret Service?" Michael sat at the table set with breakfast. "I wasn't sure if you'd eaten yet and Helena needs to put some more in that stomach of hers. I'm not sure how much she held down this morning. Thankfully, I wasn't there for that."

Myka sat at the table and poured herself some coffee, smirking. "You should be thankful. She performs an impressive show. Especially when she has the flu."

Helena pulled the chair out next to Myka hesitantly, waiting for protest. "And look what that got you?" Helena added, sitting.

"I'd put that ego aside for now if I were you." Myka made a show of biting into a pastry in front of her.

"Ladies, if you could, we have serious issues here besides your marriage…"

"We aren't married!" They spoke simultaneously, pinning him down with their eyes, then glancing at each other in surprise.

"What is it with you two? You're both wearing rings and…"

"Michael, let it go. Now that Myka is here, will you just tell us what's changed?" Helena tentatively took Myka's hand under the table and gave it a slight squeeze.

Myka pushed her coffee over to Helena unconsciously as Helena drank half of it first and pushed it back. "Nice to know some things haven't changed," Myka mumbled.

"Uh, take it easy with the coffee, Helena." Michael gave her an odd look. "When did you start drinking coffee, anyway?"

Helena rubbed her pounding head. "Michael, what's going on?"

"This is how it's going to be and no arguments. Helena your last meal may be lunch tomorrow. You are flying out for that surgery. Privately."

"What a lovely forced vacation this is turning out to be. Where is this much anticipated event going to occur?"

"I don't know. I'll know when we get there." Michael trailed off looking out the window over the table.

"Wait a minute, Michael. I know that face. What are you not telling me?" Helena's eyes narrowed when he refused to look at her.

"Sounds like a familiar question," Myka commented.

"Not now, Myka," Helena snapped, pulling her hand away. "Michael?" she demanded.

"Myka is on her way to the warehouse. It's the safest place for her now." Michael jumped up to look out the window into the plaza before turning around to face the two women.

"What?!" Helena exclaimed.

"You are not the immediate target. Myka is. They are watching Myka. They are targeting what will hurt you the most and that is Myka. We confirmed it last night when you showed up on my doorstep. They placed someone at the hostel and he didn't follow you, Helena. They've been watching Myka. We weren't sure until last night."

"And you didn't tell us this? You knew all of this before you even knocked on our door in Atlanta? You are an ass, Michael. A self-righteous, arrogant, ass," Helena hissed at him.

"Please be civil. I was filled in before I landed here. You've been out of this game too long, Helena. You know you have to sit back and wait sometimes. You want Myka to be my priority? I'm doing just that. You are just as important to me. You need that surgery and that's your safe place."

"But Myka is coming with me first, right?"

"No."

"Yes, she is."

"Um, excuse me…" Myka tried to interrupt.

"No, Helena. I'm sorry. She needs to be pulled out. We can grab the little boy out in the plaza watching you right now, but that isn't going to get us to the source. We both know, neither of you are safe until we get to the source. If you want her to be my priority, than this is what is going to happen. She goes to the warehouse and you get surgery."

"Excuse me! Don't I have a say in any of this?" Myka finally shouted.

Helena looked over at Myka before turning to look at the hazel eyes watching her knowingly, eyebrows barely raised. She closed her eyes and swallowed, nodding her head slightly.

"Not really." Michael shrugged his shoulders.

"This is exactly why we wanted out of the warehouse," Myka shot back. She rubbed her head. "Rebecca was right."

"You can leave the warehouse, but the warehouse never leaves you." Michael gave a half-hearted smile at Helena's blank face.

"Then what the Hell are we doing here?" Myka asked. "I don't get it."

"Actually, it was intended as the vacation you were planning. We'd clear it all up and you'd go home. When asked, Mrs. Frederic said this would probably be your first choice. She laughed a lot over it for some reason. Something about honey rum and airplanes? Must be a good story there somewhere."

"Mrs. Frederic laughs?" Myka asked in disbelief.

"Actually, quite often I understand when Helena's name is brought up."

"This is so wrong. We can't do this right now," Myka complained.

"You don't have a choice. You know that. You have tonight and you go your separate ways. If you go out, stay public. I'll be close. If I were you, I'd spend my time here with room service. But, I was never you." Michael smiled sadly in Helena's direction. He looked at his watch. "You have 18 hours. I recommend you make the most of it. Helena will meet you at the warehouse as soon as we can get her there. She needs that surgery."

The two women looked at each other before unconsciously being drawn to the hand at Helena's side.

"I'll be picking you up at 5 am."

Michael got up and walked to the door, closing it quietly behind him.