Title: Ours

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

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

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13

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 and a half 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! And Max is mine, so please don't steal him!

Summary: Helena allows herself to want.

Author's Note: I'm so glad people are enjoying the sequel! Look forward to hearing what you have to say. Thanks so much!

Myka's heart is racing while she tucks Max into his newly acquired big boy bed. Max snores a little and fumbles for Pooh. Brushing his bangs from his eyes (and noting that he needs a haircut), Myka focuses on Helena's earnest and yet completely unexpected question.

"Goodnight, Max. Sweet dreams," she says with a deep sigh, steeling herself for the coming conversation.

She sneaks back across the hall and closes the door behind her.

"So," she says, settling onto her side of the bed. "A baby?"

"Have you never considered it?" Helena asks, sitting fully up in the bed. She sounds hurt.

Myka tries not to be distracted by the way the stretched out shirt exposes a delicious sliver of Helena's collarbone.

"No, I just- I didn't let myself think about it, Helena. It took you a year to spend more than a few minutes with Max. I thought with Christina-"

"I thought so, too," Helena admits, reaching for her hand. "And maybe I'm not ready, but Myka, it's all I can think about. Since our trip to Colorado... Before that, even. Every time someone mistakes Max for ours, I cannot help but think what if."

"Really?" Myka asks softly.

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," Myka nods, squeezing her hand. "Let's talk about it. Can I sleep on it? To catch up?"

"Of course, darling." Helena gives her hand a gentle tug, and Myka slips into the sheets, warm and inviting in the chilly South Dakota winter. "How was your trip?"

"Tentacles."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

Pete wakes up with a face full of Pull-Up.

"Max," he complains. "You have a bed."

"Wake up, Daddy," Max orders. "You're home."

"Go bug Aunt Myka. She's home, too."

"Nope."

"Max."

"Missed you. Wake up."

Pete lets out a roar that is only partly feigned and flips his son onto the pillow beside him, commencing a tickle assault. Max giggles manically.

"Alright," Pete relents eventually, tossing a still-giggling Max over his shoulder. "Breakfast?"

"Yes, please, Daddy!"

"Great. If we go fast enough, maybe we can have Fruit Loops."

"Aunt Mykes says no."

"She doesn't have to know. Shh."

They're up before the rest of the inn, so Pete pours them both some Fruit Loops and OJ and starts the coffee pot.

"What'd you do yesterday?" Pete asks.

"Nuffin," Max yawns into his cereal, scratching at his sloppy, too long hair.

"Nothing? You just sat there and stared at each other all morning at pre-school?"

"No," Max laughs. "Painted pitchers."

"Pictures? Oh cool!"

"Mhmm."

"What about after school? Who picked you up?"

"Aunt Leena," Max answers with a grin. "Went shoppin'."

"For... shoes?"

"Noo," Max giggles.

"For... computers?"

"Nooooo."

"For... bananas?"

"Yeah!"

"You went shopping for bananas?" Pete laughs.

"Yep, at the grocery store."

"Ohh," Pete nods. "You're an expert at that. How was the turkey man?"

"Good," Max tells him around a mouthful of cereal.

"What did you do after school?"

"Dunno."

"Did you hang out with HG?"

"Yeah," Max smiles.

"And what did you do?"

Max shrugs.

"Good morning, guys."

"Hi, Dre," Max greets the newest Warehouse agent easily as he passes through on his way to get some coffee from the kitchen.

Former CIA agent Deandre Williams still bears the title New Guy, even as he approaches the end of the second year he's served in Univille. Considering Steve had the designation for about four years before him, no one is too worried about the length of his tenure.

(Steve had briefly tried to argue for HG to be "New Guy" after her return, which prompted an "Old Guy" joke from Pete, a glare from HG, and the subject to never be broached again.)

Despite basically everyone's misgivings, Deandre has blended rather easily into the group: his comfort and ease with Max is the primary reason. A secondary one was how nonchalantly he took the revelation of HG's identity. "Takes a lot to surprise the CIA," he'd quipped.

"How're your 'loops, Max?" Dre asks the toddler as he takes the seat across from him. "You tell your dad what we did yesterday?"

"No! You didn't tell me you hung out with Dre, too," Pete nudges Max.

"No? Max, I'm hurt. What'd we do yesterday?"

"Ice cream," Max grins.

"Exactly! He was getting a little antsy after dinner, so I offered to take him out."

"And get him sugared up?" Pete grins.

"I let him run laps around the ice cream store," Deandre laughs. "How was the mission?"

"Tentacles," Pete declares gleefully.

"Oh man. Poor Myka."

"She's so easy," Pete laughs.

"I'm going to tell you something. You have to promise not to tell anyone."

Myka's sudden announcement is quite the contrast to the very quiet morning they've had doing paperwork. He'd assumed she was still just shaken up by all the tentacles. Pete quickly stops his chair-spinning to look at her.

"Okay..."

"And you can't freak out."

"Mykes, what's going on?"

"You have to promise," Myka insists, looking around the office to make sure they're alone.

"Okay, okay. I promise. I won't freak out."

"Helena wants a baby."

"Alright. Trying really hard to not freak out right now," Pete gapes.

"Thank you."

"So, what do you want?" he asks, pulling his chair closer to her.

"I have no idea."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I'd think about it."

"I've always thought that you'd be a great mom," he says easily, meeting her eyes. "Hell, you are a great mom."

"Aunt."

"Potato, potah-to, for Maxy," Pete points out. "I'm actually really surprised that HG-"

"Yeah, me too," she cuts him off. "That's why I haven't really thought about it. Which I need to do. Think. Pros and cons and-"

"Okay, yeah, thinking is good," Pete nods along, "But how do you feel?"

"What?"

"What does your gut say?"

"That's your thing," Myka protests.

"Yeah," Pete agrees, rustling up some blank paper and finding his pen under his mountains of reports. "But I'm gonna humor you on your list thing in a second, so how about you humor me? When HG brought up a baby, what was your gut instinct?"

"I was holding your son at the time, so my gut instinct was to not drop him."

"And I appreciate it, but beyond that. When I say, 'Hey, Myka, do you wanna have a kid?' what does though your mind?"

"Not with you," Myka quips.

"You're S.O.L., 'cause he's already in pre-school," Pete fires back. "Answer the actual question, Myka."

His partner sighs. It's been a long time since Pete has seen her so pensive; it's obvious that this decision is weighing heavily on her.

"Yes," Myka finally answers, and there's a bit of a smile lurking underneath her furrowed brow. "Yes, but-"

"Nuh-huh, buts are for later when we do your stupid lists. This is gut instinct. And you said yes."

"Buts matter, Pete! It's one thing to make the best of the situation as it existed. When a baby showed up on our doorstep. But it's a whole other to make an active choice to bring a child into the world. Into our world."

"Okay," Pete allows, pushing the pen and paper across the desk to Myka. "But also, there's already a plan in place for raising a baby here. Max already baby-proofed our lives. You have a family here that loves you and would love any kid you brought into it. So let's do the list. I'll start: Pro: any kid of yours would be really, really cute."

Myka laughs as Pete continues:

"Con: more diapers. Now you go."

Helena looks up at the sound of a knock on the doorframe of her work space. The Top Secret Shed still gets much use, but their official Warehouse tinkering is done here, in the Warehouse itself.

"I'm going home," Myka says with a soft smile. "Wanna come with?"

"I think I'll stay a bit longer, if that's alright. I believe I'm quite close to figuring out what this damned thing is," Helena grins wryly, motioning to the contraption on her table.

Myka pushes out of the doorway and into the laboratory, slipping behind Helena's seat, laying her hands on her shoulders, and kissing her gently behind her ear.

"Want me to stay?" Myka asks warmly, massaging the knots in her shoulders.

"Unless you have something else you need to be doing, love?"

"Nothing," Myka promises.

"You don't need to get home to see Max?"

"I went home for lunch with him," Myka shakes her head. "I can wait. What are you working on?"

"An excellent question," Helena chuckles, taking the device into her purple-gloved hands. "I believe it is some sort of incendiary device, built, according to my research, some time ago."

"How long?" Myka asks curiously, moving to lean against the work table.

"Some time between the year I was bronzed and the year I was unbronzed."

"So you've narrowed it down," Myka smirks.

"Exactly."

"How do you know it starts fires?"

"Aha," Helena grins, handing Myka some goggles and pulling her own up from around her neck. She pushes at Myka's hip. "Stand back, please, darling."

Myka does as she's told, holding the goggles up to her face as Helena manipulated the teapot-sized (and vaguely -shaped) machine for a moment. Suddenly, fire springs from the "spout". In a rather large quantity.

"Is that a fire-breathing teapot?" Myka asks incredulously as Helena shuts it down. She smothers an affectionate laugh as Helena pats out a stray ember dangerously close to one of her many Post-Its.

"I guess that is one possibility," Helena says with that look of child-like glee she gets when things light up or explode or do anything else only she and Claudia would classify as "cool".

"I thought you said you were close to figuring it out."

"I am. I can feel it."

This time it's an affectionate eye roll, and she makes no effort to hide it.

"Okay." Myka leans over to kiss Helena's cheek, but it's apparently not enough, because Helena ducks her and then turns the tables, pressing a warm kiss to her lips, gloved hand lingering at her hip.

"Just a bit longer. I promise," her mad scientist swears.

"Take your time," Myka reassures her, picking out a stool a few paces away: far enough to not be in the way, close enough to shameless ogle the master at work.

"Five minutes" becomes ten minutes becomes twenty, and Myka's mind is left to wander, to work itself all the way up to -

"Our lives are dangerous."

Helena's hands freeze at their work.

"I mean, really dangerous, in ways normal people can't imagine."

"Yes," Helena agrees, setting down her work and beginning to strip off her gloves.

"Why are you willing to take that risk? Even if we could insure the safety of the baby, we couldn't say we'd always be safe. The chances of one of us-"

"I know," Helena nods. "Myka, I know, all of the risks. I just want us to discuss whether they all are worth the reward."

"A child."

"Our child."

"Our child," Myka ratifies with a smile as Helena moves closer.

"Christina's death had nothing to do with the Warehouse."

Myka feels her stomach drop out at the mention of Helena's daughter, the girl she's come to love and mourn despite the century separating them. But Helena's face merely shows the slightest frown, her eyes reflect just that quiet sadness reserved for Christina's memory these days, and she presses on.

"She was with my perfectly safe and normal, as you say, cousins. I'd dare say that a child would be far more safe in that bed and breakfast than anywhere else in the world. We've already made sure of that."

"But our jobs still aren't safe," Myka counters.

"No, but neither is the world, and at least here we're doing some good."

"I know, I know, I just..."

"So if we lived in a quiet little town, much like this one but with fewer... oddities, would that make the decision easier? If we could live a "normal" life, disregarding the fact that I am over a century out of time, would you want a child?"

"Yes. Definitely yes."

"Is that what you want then?" Helena asks softly, tugging on the end of Myka's blazer. "Because we could-"

"No, that's not us," Myka shakes her head. "Maybe someday, but not yet. Our whole family is here."

"Excepting your parents and sister."

"We're sure as hell not moving closer to them."

Helena laughs, her nose wrinkling in amusement.

"Darling, I only want you to be happy."

"I'm happy now," Myka insists, looking off. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't be happy with our kid, I just... Helena, I'm scared."

Helena smiles softly.

"That fear is there for any parent. The terror. It's as if your heart is walking about outside of your chest and you've so little control over what happens to it. Christina was my heart. And when I," Helena closes her eyes, "When she died, well, you know what it took to put me back together again."

"I do," Myka agrees insistently, focusing on Helena. "And I don't understand why you want to risk that again."

Helena laughs, but it's half-sigh, a soft release of air with a barely upturned smile.

"Because I wouldn't trade a moment that I had with my Christina for anything. Every second with her was a gift. It was worth the pain. She was worth the pain."

Myka closes her eyes against the tears.

"And are you sure you're ready for all of it again?"

"No," Helena says honestly. "But I'll never be sure."

"I want you to talk to Dr. Zhang about it. Or anyone else a little more removed from everything."

"I was already planning on going on Thursday," Helena assures her.

"And I need a little more time to think it through. Then, if we both decide the answer is yes, we'll take it from there. And if the answer is no?"

She searches Helena's face for an answer.

"Then that is the answer," Helena shrugs. "I don't need a child of our own to be happy, Myka. You make me happy. So if we think it over and decide we are better off as we are now, then no harm is done."

"Okay," Myka nods, pulling Helena into a tight embrace and finally relaxing a little. Reviewing the lists with Pete had been helpful, but no one knows her better than her Helena.

tbc