Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season Three. (hurry, Lala, hurry!)


"I am not exactly thrilled to be here," HG Wells says dryly, playing idly with the ring on her middle finger.

"Then why are you?"

"The Regents told me you were my only option. The only one with the proper clearance. They still have quite a bit of power and control over many aspects of my life, and I much prefer to save any cache of defiance I have for more important battles to be fought."

"So why now?"

HG removes her "smart" phone from her pocket and taps a few times before handing it over. She watches cautiously as the picture, a snap of Myka and Max asleep together on the couch that Claudia sneaked to her, leaves her control.

"Ah. There has been much talk of Max Lattimer among the Regents."

"He's important to her. She is important to me."

Dr. Zhang nods, waiting for her to say more. When she doesn't, she says:

"You don't trust me, Helena."

"No. That tends to happen when someone asks you a million searching questions and then recommends you be split in two."

"I completely understand," Dr. Zhang says, in her almost gratingly soothing voice. Almost, but not quite. "The arrangement is certainly not ideal, but it is what we are given. We must repair our trust before we can begin to work on anything else. It will be a long road. Are you prepared to work with me on it?"

"Anything to get me home."

"That is your end goal? To move back into Leena's?"

"To stop punishing Max, and Myka, for awful crimes others committed several lifetimes ago."

Dr. Zhang looks impressed.

She probably wasn't expecting such forthrightness already, but Helena does a lot of soul searching on a regular basis: this is just the first time she has been committed to doing something with her self-analysis.

"I am willing to work as well, and I begin with an apology about my role in the Janus coin."

"I - thank you."

"Of course. Okay." Dr. Zhang takes in a deep breath and opens her notebook. "We'll start at where you and I last intersected. Tell me about Emily Lake."


It's been almost a month since their time in the B & B. They have seen each other twice, for a brief night in Jacksonville and a weekend in Sacramento. They've established a nightly (Univille time) phone call to check-in, missed only with apologies and usually with advanced warning. The phone calls are usually the highlight of Myka's day, but tonight she's a little distracted.

"Hey, sorry," she answers on what must be the last ring before voicemail.

"Are you alright, darling?" Helena asks.

"Yeah, fine. He's just - He won't stop crying, Helena," Myka says, hurriedly, desperately. "All day, and everyone is gone and - I think there's something wrong and I have no idea what and he looks so unhappy. I don't know what to - "

"Take a deep breath, Myka."

Helena can hear Max's pitiful wails over the line, and the panic in Myka's voice. Her heart contracts with sympathy for both of them.

"Is he warm?"

Myka fumbles with the phone to feel Max's forehead and cheeks.

"Yeah, a little? But he's been crying for ten hours, Helena. That could be from that. Hell, I'm warm."

"Of course," HG says soothingly. "How many teeth does he have?"

"How many - what?"

"How many teeth, love. Is there a chance he is teething?"

"He doesn't have any, yet."

"Ah. He's seven months, about, yes?"

"Yeah."

"That is certainly right on schedule. Do you have something for him to gnaw? Preferably something you can freeze first so that it will soothe his poor gums. Many children are also partial to fingers, though that can be surprisingly painful for the fingers."

"Oh. Of course. Teething," Myka groans. "I should've known that."

"It is often difficult to think outside of the moment when they are in such pain. Now go. Care for his traitorous gums. I'll call you back in, say, an hour? We can even dare to dream that he'll be sleeping by then."

"Thanks, Helena. Thank you so much."

"Of course, Myka. Godspeed."


"He's asleep," Myka answers the phone breathlessly on the first ring. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You're very welcome," HG chuckles. "Have you been alone with him all day?"

"Yeah. Pete, Steve, and Claudia are in Des Moines, and Leena is freaking out about the karmic alignment of the dark sector or something, so she and Artie have been at the Warehouse, all day."

"Ah. I see. Well, I'm glad to help you both find some peace."

"That was a great trick, the cold. Leena actually bought him a few rings with gel that go in the freezer, so I found those."

"Very interesting! Cool, but soft. There certainly have been quite a lot of advances in the one hundred and thirty years since I was raising an infant."

Myka laughs. "You still seem to know what you're doing. I'm kinda lost, sometimes."

"I rarely had Christina on my own for very long. There was always the housekeeper or the cook or a couple of maids, all of whom had years more experience than I did. I didn't even pretend to mother my dolls as a child: I staged elaborate plays with them. When Christina came, I was quite at a loss."

Myka, tucked into her bed with the phone cradled to her ear, weighs whether to ask her next question. Exhausted and loving the sound of Helena's voice in her ear, telling stories of the past, she takes a chance. After only a month with Dr. Zhang, Helena has started to (incrementally) reveal more about her past.

"What about Christina's father?"

There is a pause on the other end, and Myka wonders if she pushed too far.

"He was not a factor," Helena finally says. "An immature indiscretion with a much older man who did not deserve to even know her, nor would he be interested if he had known. Apart from my dear, well-meaning but utterly helpless, brother, I was the only family she had. I am told that is a more common occurrence these days, but I assure you then it was not."

"I think that's pretty brave."

"Perhaps. Also, quite foolish. Thankfully, it only added to Charles's fame to have him take in and care for his scandalous sister and her daughter. He was cast as the philanthropist; I, the gossip-inducing charity project. But I must say I am grateful for Charles, as much as we irked each other."

Myka smiles, taking in the gift that Helena is giving her, savoring it.

"Thank you. For telling me all of that."

"The more people know of her," Helena says simply, "The more people there are to carry on her memory."


Pete returns to Leena's at three in the morning.

Before, a projected arrival that late would prompt him to spend the night in a hotel and return in the morning, but these days, he doesn't like to spend an unnecessary second away from Max.

He creeps into the nursery and finds Max sound asleep in his nursery, limbs flung spread-eagle and pacifier hanging precariously from the side of his mouth like a mobster's cigar. There's a pile of neatly (anally) folded clothes on the changing table.

"Ooh, Aunt Mykes did us a solid," Pete whispers. Then he grins; he's definitely turned into a totally dorky dad, the kind that talks to his baby even after he's asleep.

He makes sure they're all stocked up on diapers and wipes for the next day.

Of course they are: Myka and Leena have had him for the last few days, and they are by far the most organized of his aunts and uncles. He probably had scheduled tummy time and scheduled meals and an enrichment hour every three. Heck, he wouldn't be surprised if Max woke up reading tomorrow. Aunt Mykes and Aunt Leena have got it together.

At least until Maxy got his very unscheduled first bout of teething.

Pete leans into the crib and kisses his son's forehead. He loves his work, but it always feels like he's leaving a huge chunk of his heart behind in Univille. This assignment also included yet another close-ish brush with mortal danger. He knows that no matter what, Max will be well taken care of by people that love him, but he always feels the need to hug his son extra tight after a day like today.

But in the morning.

Because not even he is a crazy enough dad to undo all of the hours of work Myka put into getting Max to sleep. Besides, he'll be up in a couple hours anyway, and Pete plans on beating Myka to the crib so she can sleep in.

On the way out the door, Pete trips on a firetruck. He grins, remembering HG awkwardly handing it over ("For Max. It lights up!") when she last crashed his bag'n'tag in Sacramento.

Myka had pretty much melted into a pile of super-smitten-Myka-goo on the spot. Pete had momentarily been jealous that half of Myka's away missions ended in booty calls these days, until he remembered why that is. Pete gets annoyed with HG's separation from the rest of the team, and the effect it has on everyone, especially Myka.

But he can't - won't - imagine her pain, and he refuses to be anything but as patient as possible with her.


tbc