Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13
A/N: Thank you so much for all your patience and support. I really appreciate it. Also, I just wanted to adress a few things that I've seen in the reviews. A lot of you have mentioned that Myka needs to calm down and get over it. I totally understand what you're saying, and even I want to get on with the fluffy cuteness, but here's my reasoning for keeping the tension high: Helena's been gone for months. It's been months since they last talked, months since Myka knew anything about the well-being or whereabouts of her, which was one step too many for her to handle. Now, this chapter brings us to the second morning since Helena returned. It's only been one day. I don't know about you guys, but it normally takes me more than a day to completely forgive someone who really, genuinely hurt me, and go back to normal. I want to stay true to normal human behavior, particular Myka's behavior, who tends to build up her walls when she can't handle her emotions. I appreciate all your opinoins and reviews, so I thought I would respond to this. Let me know if you disagree or if you have opinion at all about it! I love to hear from you guys.
Also, I want to respond to one reviewer in particular; a guest who goes by "E". First of all, you're a sweetheart. Thank you for your concern. I got off extremely luckily with Sandy. The storm basically went around my state and hit New Jersey straight on, so we didn't get too much damage outside of the towns on the border, and even then we weren't much compared to Jersey. I live in the center of the state, so I didn't get much but a day or two of crazy winds and a bit of rain. The damage was minimal, and the scheduling problems and lack of power for a day were easy to handle considering the minimal damage. Thank you so much for your concern! I hope anyone else affected by Sandy got off as easily as I did. I hope you all are alright.
Chapter 11
Myka Bering was not one to sleep in obscenely late, so when she awoke to a sunlit bedroom, she jumped up far faster than her body was ready to move. She had been careful not to drink too much, but she was beginning to think a few glasses of water throughout the night would have been a smart choice. Shaking the sheets off her shoulders and sliding out of bed, she stretched, hearing her bones crack in protest.
It took far too long for Myka to realize the banging she was hearing was not in her head.
Myka slid down the hall, thankful that socks and hardwood floors worked so well together, and made her way to the door, crashing into it with drunken grace.
"Myka!"
Myka cracked open her door and peeked out, hoping the night prior had developed relationships close enough for her appearance to be forgiven. Kelly and Fi stood in her doorway, both looking far too perky.
Myka groaned, trying to form a coherent greeting and failing miserably. "What time is it?" she managed.
"It is," Fi began, looking down at her wristwatch, "12:32."
Myka straightened, again moving faster than her body wanted to move. "Shit," she mumbled, glancing behind her at a lumpish H.G.
Fi and Kelly both laughed and Kelly outstretched her arm, handing Myka a glass she hadn't even noticed she was holding. "This building has hosted enough long nights for us to come up with an anti-hangover home remedy. Works like a charm." she promised, smiling.
"Thanks," Myka smiled, taking the glass.
"Sure! See you tonight!"
Myka eyed her, trying to figure out what she was talking about, before remembering; the tavern.
"Right, uh-,"
"One of us will pick you up." Fi smiled, understanding.
"Thanks," Myka laughed, waving them goodbye and shutting the door.
Myka eyed the orange liquid and smelled it suspiciously. It didn't smell anything like fudge, at least, so she took a sip, sliding toward the living room. It wasn't disgusting, but certainly wasn't something she'd like to drink daily. Myka just prayed it'd work.
"You're going to spill that." H.G. observed; her voice thick with sleep as she peeked out from under her quilts.
Myka slid to a stop just before the coffee table, indeed splashing a little bit as she did so, and eyed H.G.
"You're awake."
H.G. rolled onto her back, the blanket falling down to her collarbone, making her look far less lumpish. "What, with that insistent knocking? I didn't drink nearly enough wine to sleep through that."
H.G. sat up and immediately groaned, leaning her head against the seat.
"Not enough, hm?" Myka asked, eyeing her.
Nevertheless, Myka outstretched her arm, offering her the remedy, which she graciously took. Looking down, Myka noticed the book that had been left on the coffee table.
"Is this what you were discussing last night?" Myka asked, looking up at H.G.
H.G. took a sip of the liquid, making the same awkward expression Myka had when she first sipped it, before looking to see what Myka was holding. Recognizing the cover, she looked sheepishly up at her partner.
"It is," she said simply.
Myka nodded, looking down at the book.
"And what were you discussing about it?" Myka asked.
H.G. straightened herself, throwing her legs over the side of the loveseat so as to face Myka, taking another sip of the hangover remedy.
"Well, I had noticed it on the shelf before anyone came over, and when I was banished to the bedroom,"
Myka's eyes narrowed, and H.G pretended not to notice.
"I left it on the coffee table. Fi recognized the cover and asked if I was fan."
Myka looked up and outstretched her arm, asking for the glass, which was given to her. "Mhmm," she said, taking a sip, "and are you a fan of H.G. Wells?"
"I think he's a literary genius."
"Oh?" Myka asked, rolling her eyes.
"I do," H.G. continued taking the glass back from Myka and taking a sip. "I think he captures the aesthetics of language unlike any other, and I think there's a sheer brilliance behind the concepts of each story."
Myka laughed and H.G. smiled, a little too widely for her own good, for as soon as Myka caught sight of it her laugh died out.
"Do our neighbors share in your opinion?" she asked.
"They do. They do, indeed. Apparently Fi is a particularly devoted fan. Cam tells me they own nearly every novel I've written, and many short stories. This book in particular seems to be a favorite amongst our neighbors."
"That's interesting." Myka noted, looking down at the copy of Ann Veronica.
"How so?" H.G. asked.
Myka looked up at H.G and tried not to smile at the sight before her. Her hair was such a mess it looked as though it had been sculpted, and the lines of the couch had embroidered themselves into her cheek, leaving odd, red designs. Her eyes were misty with fatigue, but wide and intent. Clearly, this was more than casual conversation.
"Um, well, there are over 50 novels credited to the name 'H.G. Wells', and Ann Veronica isn't the most popular."
"What is the most popular?" H.G. asked quickly.
Myka hesitated, stuttering slightly. "Um, War of the Worlds, The Invisible Man," Myka looked up and found herself staring back at the same wide eyes, urging her to continue on, "The Island of Dr. Moreau, The Time Machine." Myka trailed off, watching H.G. "You okay?" she asked, watching the women fall into thought.
H.G. nodded silently before meeting Myka's eyes. "It's just that it's been over a century since I worked on those novels." She explained, "and you can list their titles like they're the names of your family members. A group of friends can spend over an hour discussing a particular character like she's a friend of theirs. Fi can consider H.G. Wells her favorite author, can read and re-read the novels I've written, and…" H.G. trailed off, looking down at the book.
"And what?" Myka asked, watching her.
H.G. hesitated before meeting Myka's eyes. "It was always Charles who got the credit for my books, as you know. People who enjoyed the books always wanted to discuss with him, and even then, the vast majority of them were women trying to seduce him. I just never realized that…"
H.G. trailed off again, something she rarely did, especially in the same conversation, but Myka knew better than to tear her eyes away.
After a few moments, H.G. looked up again. "Have you read any of my books, Myka?" H.G. asked. She knew Myka well enough to recognize the answer was probably obvious, but her relationship with Myka had tried very hard to remain as professional as possible and Myka certainly wasn't the type to allow herself to become star struck.
"I have." Myka nodded, a smile on her lips. She reached for the glass before continuing. "My dad used to read me your books when I was a kid."
H.G. nodded. She knew very little about Myka's family; just that she had been raised in a bookstore, which is where the love of literature was born, that she had a sister named Tracy and a had always had a rather difficult relationship with her father. Still, she recognized the expression on Myka's face, the nostalgia for something she held sacred. It was similar to the expression Fi had worn during their discussion last night, and H.G. felt the same emotions return.
"I hadn't realized that my books could be so sacred to someone." H.G. said, so quietly it almost wasn't said.
Myka smiled, taking a sip from the glass before offering it to H.G. "I think you would be amazed how high the intrinsic value of your books are to some people, Helena."
H.G. smiled softly, almost sadly. "I hadn't realized."
Thanks for reading. You guys have been so sweet lately I thought I'd take a break from the tension and put it some sweetness. You'll have more of this in later chapters :). Please review :)
-G
