Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13

A/N: If you are actually reading this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I can't even tell you how grateful I am to anyone who has the patience to stick with me through this. I have never had such insane complications keep me from writing. First it was Sandy taking out my power, then it was the workload that came with the missed days of class and such, and the play I've been writing has kept me pretty crazy as well. However, I do still plan to finish this story, even if it take me the next decade. Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy. I'm on break now so I'll see how much I can get done over the next couple of days.

Chapter 10

"I really wish you would relax." Myka complained, eying the train of stubborn neighbors that had formed by her sink. She wasn't sure whether New York had forgotten or embraced the concept of overstaying, but her guests had officially spent over seven hours in her apartment and thus a small mountain of dishes had accumulated throughout the night. As much as she appreciated the help, the simple hostess etiquette she had learned from her mother was making Myka jumpy. Still, they refused to back down.

"We'll be leaving in a few minutes, Doll." Clara answered simply, passing a dripping plate to her husband for him to dry.

"Even more of a reason for you to enjoy the remainder of your night!" Myka countered.

Jerry sent Myka a sideways look that made her laugh despite herself. "I am an old man, Myka." He began, a smile on his lips, "another ounce of enjoyment and my body's going to give out."

Myka chuckled, shaking her head and accepting defeat. "What's your excuse?" she asked Jillian, who was quietly scrubbing a platter.

"I just like being helpful." She smiled.

Myka pursed her lips, mostly to bite back to smile that was appearing on her own lips, and squinted. "Bad excuse." She answered.

Jillian grinned anyways, passing the platter to Clara and pointing at a small pile of paper plates on the coffee table. "Fine, I'll sit back and let you take care of those."

"Fine," Myka said, smirking.

Myka squeezed through the crowd of neighbors that hadn't offered to help, mostly because they were all far too many glasses of wine in to recognize common courtesy, and made eye contact with H.G. There was a quiet solemnity in her eyes, not quite sadness, but so far away from her usual arrogant charm that Myka felt her stomach churn, something she was far too stubborn to call worry icing in her veins.

H.G. blinked, noticing Myka's expression, and offered a small, reassuring smile, far lighter than any other exchange between the two women since her return, and brought her gaze back to the small crowd around her.

"Myka!" Syd beamed, her attention shifting from the group to the brunette so quickly she seemed to get whiplash. "You headed to the kitchen any time soon?"

"Yes I am." Myka smiled, noticing the incredulous look Kelly shot Syd, "You need anything?"

"Yeah! Wanna fill me up?" she asked, draining the last sip of wine and handing Myka her glass.

Kelly sent Syd an ever sharper glance, which would have made anyone cringe, expect, apparently, Syd, who simply shrugged it off.

"It's my last one." She assured, ignoring the razor blades in her girlfriend's eyes.

Myka laughed, a bit uneasily, and eyed Kelly, who continued to stare and Syd, and, when she realized she would continue to be ignored, pursed her lips and shrugged, shaking her head. Myka took the glass, grateful everyone else declined her offer to fill them up, and tried her best to balance the stack of plates in one hand and the wine in the other.

Myka returned to the island, wishing she had more than two hands, and smiled and Jerry, Clara and Jillian.

"You're leaving?" Myka asked, noticing that Jerry had taken back the sweater he had taken off a few hours prior, emptying her handful of napkins and paper plates into the trash bin.

"We are." Jerry smiled, just the slightest slur in his voice.

"We need to get this idiot into bed. You would think he'd have learned his limits by now." Clara explained, eyeing her husband with amusement, not exactly sober herself.

"Limits," Jerry countered, a pointed finger emphasizing his point, "are all in your head."

Clara watched her husband, an unimpressed purse in her lips and the same amusement in her eyes as she watched him tap his forehead, slightly hunched.

"And I think you just called me old." He added, as if he hadn't labeled himself old just a few minutes prior.

Myka chuckled, watching the couple.

"You are old." Clara responded casually, gripping his arm.

Jerry, too drunk to come up with a clever response, dramatically kissed the forehead of his wife and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

Myka eyed them, smiling, and, when they each pulled her into an embrace far too tight for people who had only met a few hours ago, she hugged them back just as tightly.

"They're the craziest pair I've ever met." Jillian smiled, shaking her head as she watched the door shut behind them.

Myka smiled, thinking of Hugo and Artie and her own understanding of the word 'crazy', and nodded. "They're something else." Shea agreed, grabbing the nearly empty bottle of wine and pouring its remnants into Syd's glass.

"The two of them party harder than a lot of people our age, and it's been a while since they've had an excuse to celebrate a new tenant, so I think they had fun tonight."

Myka laughed, nodding, watching an opportunity to investigate unfold before her.

"Yeah, Jerry said it's been a while since they had a new tenant. He mentioned how hard he's been trying to rent this place out."

Jillian nodded. "Yeah, it's been a while since this place has been lived in."

Myka eyed Jillian, taking in the note of seriousness that had fallen into her voice. "Why? Did something happen here that we should know about?"

Myka added just the right amount of concern into her voice to allow Jillian to jump to reassure her. "No, no, you're good. Nothing crazy ever happened here. I think it's just the economy or something. Actually, considering who last lived her, you've probably got yourself the most innocent room in the whole building."

Myka chuckled lightly. "Why's that?" she asked casually

"Jenny was a sweetheart." Jillian sad quietly, "She'd lighten up the room when she walked in; had the most adorable laugh. She was really just the sweetest thing."

Myka nodded, smiling. "She sounds great. She moved away?" she asked, remembering the name 'Jennifer' stamped onto one of the x-rays in her folder.

Jillian sighed, looking up at Myka before responding. "She died a few months ago: car crash."

Myka's eyes widened, nodding, allowing sympathy to make its way into her expression. "I'm sorry." she offered, the kind of tone in her voice that could never express what someone wanted to say properly, one she had mastered over the years.

"It's okay." Jillian shrugged. "You know, you move on after a while. Thank you, though."

Myka nodded, watching Jillian carefully, noticing the slight distaste in her eye.

"Right, well, we're glad that you and Helena are here to patch up that hole. This place feels off balance when there's an empty room."

Myka smiled. "We're glad we're here too."

Myka glanced behind her in H.G's direction and saw the circle dispersing, Syd and Kelly walking toward her.

"Hey! Sorry this is a little late…" Myka offered, handing Syd the glass.

"No, she's good." Kelly said, shaking her head. "We're actually going to head home, thanks thought."

Myka placed the glass back on the island. "Oh, okay. Is everything alright?" she asked, looking to H.G. for an explanation, who didn't seem to have one.

"Yeah! Totally!" Kelly coughed, almost sarcastically. "I just, uh, bad shoulder." She said, pointing toward her collarbone, "going to try and sleep it off."

"Oh, alright. I hope you feel better." Myka offered.

Kelly, then Syd, pulled Myka into a hug, each doing the same for Jillian, H.G., Fi and Cam, and Myka watched the pair saunter out the door.

Myka looked up at Jillian, who shook her head, a small smirk on her face. "Don't worry about it; they're always at each other's throats." She muttered.

Myka nodded, understanding, and looked up at Fi and Cam. "Wine?" she asked, motioning to the glass beside her.

"No," Cam smiled, grabbing FI's hand. "Hung-over bartenders are not as good as they sound."

Fi groaned and buried her face in Cam's shoulder, clearly having already consumed a glass or two too many.

Cam bit her lip and smiled, running her hand up Fi's arm. "Yeah, we should definitely be heading home." She laughed.

"I'll follow you back," Jillian offered, sliding around the island to join FI and Cam.

Just slightly awkwardly, the three women shuffled around each other, each pecking both Helena and Myka on the cheek before slipping out the door, exchanging 'thank-yous' and 'good-to-meet-yous', and Myka and H.G. were left standing in their kitchen, a glass of wine no one wanted to claim sitting on their island.

"That was interesting." Myka noted, eyeing the door.

"That it was." H.G. agreed. "It's certainly somewhere to start." She added, wondering why the entire building seemed so effected by whatever tension lie in Syd and Kelly's relationship.

Myka nodded. "We need to look into the girl who lived here before us too. She's one of the victims. Jillian said she died in a car crash."

"Interesting." H.G. agreed.

Myka tore her glance away from the door and eyed H.G. "Are you, um," Myka trailed off, clearing her throat, "you alright? You seemed a little, I don't know, distant when you were over there."

H.G watched Myka for a moment before a small smile appeared on her lips. "Of course, Darling," a smile on her face that wasn't the least bit convincing, "we were discussing literature."

Myka watched her for a few heartbeats before shrugging. "Okay. Well, I'm exhausted."

"As am I." H.G. agreed, following Myka down the hall.

Myka slid her way into the closet, standing on her toes and reaching toward the shelf above her head. Coming back down with two quilts, she tucked them under her arm and grabbed a pillow from the bed, handing the pile to H.G.

"So, uh, goodnight then." She offered quietly, turning away toward the bed.

Understanding, H.G. took the blankets quietly.

"Sleep well, Darling."

Thank you again for reading. I really can't tell you how much I appreciate it. If you'd review, it would make my night :)

-G