Disclaimer: Don't grow up, it's a trap filled with "Taxes" and "Responsibility" and "Bills"

AN: I am making it up as I go along, and also looked up nothing about Port Townsend, just opened up a map of Washington state and pointed.


Chapter Eight: Alone-ish

Myka woke violently, drenched in a cold sweat, sitting up quickly, trying to escape the nightmare more fully.

She sucked in a deep breath and gaged, scrambling out of bed. Her feet became tangled in the twisted sheets, tripping and landing hard on her hands and knees. She didn't have the presence of mind to untangle herself, and was forced instead to crawl as best she could with moist palms and scraped knees to the bathroom.

She made it just in time to vomit the bile burning a hole in her throat, chocking and gasping in the thick air until she could lay her overheated face on the edge of the cool bathtub.

It had been so real, so terribly real, she wasn't even completely sure that it hadn't actually happened, and she had to fight the urge to find a phone and call anyone, everyone who could tell her it wasn't true.

"Myka?" a sleep roughened voice called softly as a pair of feet came to a stop at the threshold of the room, toes painted pink wiggled as weight shifted from right to left and back, unsure of where they wanted to go.

"You know, Trace," Myka's voice cracked as she spoke, "You're going to need to know how to deal with throw up eventually. Katie won't be a happy baby forever."

"Her terrible twos have bled into the terrible threes.," Myka could practically hear the eye roll, and the feet moved further into Myka's line of sight, "I'd hardly call her happy."

Myka grunted her response, closing her eyes to try and keep the room from spinning, unable to shake the feeling that she was trapped to a demented tilt-a-whirl.

"Mykes," came the heavy sigh accompanied by the barely audible sound of bare feet padding over tile, "You look like shit." Fabric brushed against itself as Tracy knelt beside her sister, putting the back of her hand to Myka's forehead, "Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"I'm fine," Myka rolled her head away from the touch, "It's just a bug, I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Mhmm," Tracy hummed disbelievingly, "That's what you said yesterday, and the day before that. Everyday you've been here, and I'd venture to guess since before you got here too."

"I said I'm fine," Myka snapped, prying her eyes open to glare blearily at her sister's worried expression, "If I wanted to be babied, I would have gone to mom and dad."

"Why did you come here, Myka?" Tracy, instead of being put off my Myka's attitude as had been the intention, got comfortable, sitting cross legged on the floor, back to the sink, "I mean, I know you said you needed to get away from your girlfriend where you could think, but this isn't the first place they would have looked for you anyway?"

Myka's jaw flared, but she refused to speak, irrationally angry for whatever reason.

She had driven aimlessly for a few days, it wasn't until she saw the "Welcome to Port Townsend" sign. Of course, where else could she go but to her sisters? Isn't that what people did when they fought with their significant other? How it took her almost five days to drive fourteen hundred miles she'll never know. It had all been a sort of blur.

And when she had stumbled up David and Tracy's porch at ten o clock at night, after a moment of shocked hesitation, Tracy pulled her inside for a hug and a mug of tea that Myka could only remember the warmth of, not the flavor, as it unthawed her veins.

She hadn't been able to quite explain what had happened to Tracy, wanting to keep her younger sister away from the craziness of the warehouse. All she told her was they had a huge fight and needed space.

"Or were you hoping she did come to find you here? Is that why you're so pissed? Because she didn't? Because if you told her not to come, maybe she thinks it's what you want. I know with David, he doesn't quite get it sometimes and I have to-,"

"God, Tracy, shut up," Myka squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her sisters rapid speaking and hand movements was contributing to her anxiety now, and she lurched forward to throw up once more, but it was useless, her stomach was empty.

"Look, Myka, I don't know what happened between you and Helena-,"

"You're right, you don't." Myka snapped.

"But," Tracy continued, "I know that what you're doing, running away, it isn't dealing with your problems. It's just avoiding them. I mean seriously Mykes how many times are we going to go through this with you two?"

"I'm not avoiding them I just need space." Myka grumbled.

"Well, I'm not letting you mope around here anymore, Mykes. Honestly it's depressing." Tracy brushed invisible lint off her sleeping shirt, trying her hardest not to reveal how worried she actually was.

"I'm not moping," Myka sneered, "I'd like to see how you would cope with ending a four year relationship."

"Whatever," Tracy huffed, returning to her feet, "But you're leaving the house today."

"What?" Myka's anger fell away quickly, eyes wide with a sad panic, "You're sending me home?"

"No," Tracy shook her head, "I just refuse to let you lay in bad all day again. So you're going to get up, take a shower and brush your teeth, eat some real goddamn food and go do something! You are a secret service agent, you are a New York Times bestselling author, you are my big sister and you will get in this shower willingly or I will make you get in this shower."

"Tracy!" Myka protested as her younger sister yanked her to her feet, reaching around her to turn the shower on, "Don't you dare!"

Tracy smiled wickedly before shoving Myka into the shower fully clothed. Myka squealed as the freezing water poured over her, but she quickly retaliated by pulling Tracy in with her, using her body to shield her from the torrent of water.

A very immature fight ensued that ebded with water and various bathroom products strewed around the room. The sisters only stopped when the sound of someone clearing their throat had them noticing David staring at them, eyebrows raised, with a giggling Katie on his hip.

The girls looked back to each other, Myka had Tracy pinned, preparing to cover her in shaving cream, Tracy was holding a towel out as a last barrier between her and her sister. They burst into laughter as they each sat back with their backs to the bathtub.

"Right, so, I'm not even gonna ask." David shook his head and walked down to the kitchen.

"You're laughing." Tracy pointed out after a moment, unable to stop herself.

That pulled Myka up short for a moment, "I'm laughing." She agreed, a bit of wonder in her tone.

"You're going to be okay." The younger sister's tone was filled with relief.

"I'm going to be okay." Myka gave her a small reassuring smile.


After cleaning themselves up, they both headed down stairs, and Myka found herself suddenly ravenous when she lay eyes on the breakfast David was preparing while talking over his shoulder to his daughter about what sounded like cake for breakfast.

"But why?" Katie's small voice inquiered.

"Because cake isn't good to eat all the time." David insisted as he pushed scrambled eggs around on the pan.

"Nuh uh! Momma's cake is always good!" Katie argued.

"Yes, well, that may be true, but if you want to grow up big and strong you have to eat your eggs and bananas." He pointed out, not bothering to explain that hadn't been what he meant.

Katie seemed to think for a moment, "Like Auntie Mykes?"

"Just like your Auntie Mykes, munchkin." Myka ruffled her hair as she moved around the kitchen behind her brother in law, grabbing a random assortment of food- an apple, yogurt, a chocolate cupcake, a spoonful of still hot eggs from the pan, a couple sliced of sharp cheddar cheese, a croissant and a glass of strawberry milk that was supposed to be for Katie.

She realized that she was getting twin dirty looks from Tracy and her husband, "What?" she asked with her mouthful.

The other adults in the room exchanged a look, "Yeah, you're quite the role model for your niece, Myka. Have you been hanging out with Pete too much? I thought you didn't eat sugar?"

Myka looked down at what she had grabbed, half way through eating it already. A wave of nausea rolled through her again, but she pushed it down, and the food away from her, "Sorry, I don't… I was hungry I guess…"

"Auntie Mykes," Katie demanded her attention before her parents could further comment, "Auntie Mykes, we gon to beach today. You come?"

"You're going to the beach today?" Myka subtly corrected her, and the girl nodded, and Myka looked to her sister, "Yes, I would love to go with you." She smiled and the girls face lit up.

After that it was impossible to get Katie to slow down as she rushed her mother and aunt about in an attempt to get them to the beach faster. David chuckled as he escaped to work.


Myka knew something was off as soon as they left the house.

She got a creeping sensation on the back of her neck, and her stomach rolled as if she was about to vomit once more. She glanced around quickly, searching for whatever set her off, but came up empty.

It was her PTSD, she was sure of it. The symptoms never fully went away, and never would unless they gooed the dog tags. She was still convinced that she was one who could work of feelings, she worked off the cold hard facts.

So Myka didn't speak up, just shook her head as she and her sister continued to walk down the semi crowded streets of Port Townsend, the sun finally breaking through the crowds and turning the day beautiful.

That's when it hit her again. The tingling sensation, the dread and sudden sense of urgency. And before she could shake herself out if it, a familiar scent briefly over powered the ocean brine.

"Do you smell fudge?" Tracy asked, nose twitching as she looked to Myka.

A man cried out in pain over Tracy's shoulder, Myka witnessed as his shoulder exploded with blood and he crumpled to his knees.

Myka grabbed her sister's arm and yanked her backwards, pulling the stroller with them. She glanced around madly, but no one else seemed to notice the man bleeding out on the pavement.

"Myka, what the hell?" Tracy demanded, voice raised, and Myka clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shhh!" She glared at her sister, turning her head and showing her the man on the ground. It was just in time to see a woman jerk forward as if being punched in the back, and she fell forward a twenty feet away from the first man.

"Oh ma gd." Tracy's words were muffled by Myka's hand.

"Exactly, lets go." She pulled her backwards once more, towards a small store. It was mostly empty but one man standing behind the register.

He noticed the freaked out look on the both of them quickly, "Whoa, are you two okay?"

"Do you have a cellar?" Myka asked him, "A store room? Anything?"

"Our cold storage is down stairs?" he shifted uncomfortable from one foot to the other.

"Fantastic, look you take my sister and niece down there, you lock yourselves in and you don't leave until I come back and say it's alright."

"Mykes-," Tracy turned a wide eyed gaze on her.

"Um, we're really not allowed to let customers down there-,"

"What's your name?"

"Uh, Lyle?"

"Alright, Lyle, look here," Myka pulled her badge out, "Look, kid, I am a secret service agent, and I am telling you to keep my sister safe until I can figure out what is going on outside those doors."

"Whoa," he said again, blinking slowly, "Yeah sure, alright, you got it," he lifted the partition between the counter and the store floor so Tracy and Katie could go through.

"Myka, what are you doing?" Tracy demanded as she was shoved in the direction of safety.

"My job." Myka snapped, not out of anger, but urgency, she had no idea if anyone else was getting hurt or dying out there while she stood here arguing with her sister and some intoxicated kid.

"Auntie Mykes?" Katie's small voice traveled up to them, and MYka crouched to look at her hazel eyes, filled with tears as she wiped the back of her hand under her little nose, "Are you gonna go get bad guys?" She didn't fully understand what was happening but she had seen the hurt people in the streets, and now her aunt was yelling.

"Yeah, kiddo, I'm gonna go get the bad guys." Myka assured her with a smile, running a hand down her hair before kissing her forehead, "You look out for your mom, I'll be right back."

"Be careful, Myka,"Tracy pulled her into a crushing hug, "I don't want your girlfriend coming down on me if I give you back in less than perfect condition."

Myka smiled as her sister tried to hide her worry behind jokes, as usual, but she was reminded of something, that she had a family at home, and she was putting herself in danger. But she didn't have a choice. She also had a family here, who was in danger, and the imminent threat outweighed the guilt.

She grabbed her bag from under the stroller before pushing them towards the door once more. Myka waited until the doorway to the cellar was closed, listened for the sound of a lock turning into place. She took a deep breath, rummaging around her purse.

Myka kept all the normal girl stuff in there, makeup, gum, tampons, tissues, pepper spray, random earrings, mints, receipts, old movie tickets, about five pounds of change, chapstick, pens, her wallet, some pain killers, her glasses, an extra pair of contacts, hair ties, band-aids, a utility knife, extra earphones... But what she held in her hand after a moment of searching was what she was after.

Claudia, once given the free reign of the warehouse and the small supply store in Univille, went right to work changing up hers and Helena's original design on the tesla. She made grenades, one that looked like a sniper and had better accuracy at longer distances, one that looked like a shotgun and had a wider spread, and this one, small, pocket sized to be easily concealed.

It only had enough power for two or three charges before it needed to be recharged, but it was all Myka had to work with now, she had left her gun and other tesla in her room at the Bed and Breakfast. It was a miracle at all she had thought to bring this one and her badge.

She left her purse on the floor and ventured back outside, keeping her back to the building, her tesla close to her chest. There were three more people on the side walk or on the street. Some were groaning in pain, some lay still.

Myka swore under her breath and looked around. People were shouting and running in every which direction. Panic had finally broken out as people realized what was happening. Just before another man in a business suit went down, Myka caught a glimpse of a flash, light reflecting off a lens.

The building across from her, some type of government building, on the roof, she could make out the shape of someone laying on their stomach, and what looked like a sniper rifle propped under his chin.

She would have to cross right in front of what his apparent target range was. Her heart pounded in her ears at the thought. But what choice did she have? To keep letting these people get picked off one by one?

She had a job, and the smell of fudge that seemed to be getting worse definitely put this in her jurisdiction. Sticking close to the row of buildings, Myka started jogging down the sidewalk, back the way her and Tracy had come, for about a half a block before finally crossing the street at a dead sprint.

She tried to slow her breathing as she kept close do the buildings on this side of the street, hoping his effectively put her out of the shooters line of sight. As she got closer to the government building, she found herself wishing her partner was there as back up. Pete and her had created a working system, and now wit out him here, she had never felt more alone and exposed.

But more importantly, she wished she hadn't run off from home. Because if something were to happen to her now, their last memory of her would be of her yelling at Helena, leaving Christina in tears in her bedroom, abandoning them in the dead of night because she couldn't handle her own shit.

She found herself begging god, or whoever was listening, that she get through this so she could make it right.

She didn't have time for long prayers as a woman in a red jogging suit and earphones fell to the ground right in front of her and she realized she was standing in front of the building, she turned into the glass doors.

She swung her tesla around, but it seemed to be empty. She ignored the elevator and began her way up the stairs, taking them two at a time, keeping all her weight on her toes to move quickly and as quietly as possible.

By the time she reached the door that lead to the roof, having been propped open by a cinder block, she was drenched in sweat, her hands shaking around her weapon, and her breathing and heart beat were erratic.

She opened the door slowly with her shoulder as she stepped sideways through it, keeping her tesla aimed at chest level.

There was only one person up there, a man with grey hair and a sniper rifle. Myka fixed her aim on him and stepped forward.

Her foot kicked a rock that skittered noisily over the stucco.

"Shit," she hissed as the man rolled to his back, bringing the gun with him and pointing the business end of it at her chest.

Myka pulled her trigger a moment before he did. The crack of the gun overpowering the electrical sound of the tesla.

Myka froze as the man fell unconscious. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to make itself known. She remembered all too well what it felt like to get shot. But she counted to ten, and then to twenty, and nothing happened. She took a breath in and nearly chocked. She opened her eyes to realize she was surrounded by dust. The bullet had missed her by a couple of inches. Burying into the side of the doorway.

Myka moved forward then, keeping her whining tesla trained on his unmoving body. She kicked the gun away from him, looking over him with careful eyes until she noticed what he wore around his neck. It was a sniper rifle cartrage, tied around his neck with a leather cord.

Myka tucked her tesla into her pants and pulled a tissue from her back pocket, being careful not to touch the bullet as she yanked it from around his neck.

She pocketed it, using the tip of her shoe to turn him over and keep a knee in his back. She found a cellphone in his back pocket and dialed 911, though from the sounds on the streets below, they had already arrived.

"Police don't move!" they shouted as the door behind her was kicked open with more force than necessary, "Show us your hands!"

"My name is Myka Bering! I am a secret service agent!" she yelled back calmly, "I'm reaching for my badge, do not shoot me!"

She pulled her badge out once more, holding it up for the closest police officer to see the insignia.

"Put down your weapons!" he ordered his men, "Sorry about that, Agent Bering." He gave her a hand up, "Do you mind telling us what happened?"

After a twenty minute debriefing, where she had to explain just what she was doing in Port Townsend, they let Myka go, and she immediately ran across the street to the small store. She knocked on the cellar door.

"It's safe, come on!" She shouted.

"How do we believe you?" the guy called out to her, "how do we know its actually safe?"

"Lyle, you idiot, open the door!" Myka growled.

"What's the name of your kid?" Tracy asked next, sounding closer to the door than Lyle did.

"Christina Anne Wells." Myka replied, her voice cracking slightly.

The door opened and she was tackled by a hug from Tracy, "Don't ever do that ever again." She punched her in the shoulder when she pulled back.

"Ow!" She complained, rubbing her arm as if it actually hurt, "It's kinda my job, Trace."

"Not alone it isn't." she mumbled.

"Come on, an officer is going to drive us back to your place."


David burst through the front door about two minutes after they had gotten home. Running straight to his daughter and pulling her up to his chest, breathing in deeply the scent of her hair before he glanced around hurriedly, looking for her mother.

"Dave," Tracy called softly, and just like that, she was pulled into the embrace and kissed repeatedly where ever his lips could reach.

"The police chief called me and told me what happened." His voice was gruff with emotion, "Are you alright? Where's Myka?"

"I'm right here, getting seriously grossed out." Myka mumbled around the chocolate muffin she found on the counter.

David passed his daughter over to Tracy and took a step towards Myka, an intense look in his eye, and she prepared herself for his anger. After all, hadn't Myka put his family in danger?

But just as she flinched away from his advance, he pulled her into his chest with a tight hug. "Thank you."

Myka opened and closed her mouth a few times, "For what?"

"If you hadn't been there… They walk down that road almost every day Myka, and if you hadn't been there…" he seemed unable to complete that line of thought and just hugged his sister in law tighter.

Myka was so caught off guard. She hadn't thought that. What if Tracy and Katie had gone to the beach without her there today? Would they be among the injured and dead? Would she have been called down to bury her sister and niece?

Myka pulled away from David suddenly, running to the downstairs bathroom and throwing up again, the nausea rolling violently through her once more.

"Jesus Mykes," Tracy's chuckle could barely be heard over the ringing in her ears, "Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

Myka rolled her eyes, "That joke is going to get old really fast, Tracey." She croaked before pulling herself up to the sink and rinsing her mouth.

"Myka," Tracy spoke up after a moment, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think it's time for you to go home. I'm greatful for everything you did here, and I love having you over, but… I really think it's time."

"Even if it wasn't, I have a really dangerous artifact in my back pocket that needs to be neutralized before it causes anymore damage." Myka shrugged.

"Myka," Tracy said in her threatening mom tone.

"I know, Tracy." Myka shut her eyes tightly, "They were all I could think about. And I think two weeks is long enough."

"Go home, sis." Tracy put a hand on her shoulder, and Myka straightened her posture resolutely.

"I'm already on my way."