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 eventually.
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 law degree (holy crap) 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: So sorry about the delay. I started a real job at the end of October with 3/4s of this chapter written…. And it has taken that long to eek out the end of this chapter. But I am finding my footing, I think. Time's speeding up a little in the story, but I reserve the right to fill in with one shots later down the road.
Christmas 2016
While during her time in the twenty-first century she has come to appreciate the era's holiday music, it is when Artie plays the old hymns that HG really feels in the Christmas spirit. And yes, the irony of Arthur Weisfeldt pulling the beautiful old Nativity music from the piano is not lost on her, but Artie seems rather secular, only in it for the music.
Unfortunately, despite the snow piling up outside, the sinful smells constantly radiating from the kitchen, and Macsen's mounting excitement, the Christmas spirit is not really a good place for her to linger. It has, against all odds, finally gotten easier every year to celebrate without her daughter, but the holidays are still a particularly sensitive time. Furthermore, the topic of Christina has remained even closer to the surface than usual for the last three months, given their three attempts (two failed and one still undetermined) to replace her.
She chides herself on such thinking, knowing it's unhealthy but seemingly powerless to stop it. Especially-
"Agey!"Max pounces, and HG flinches in surprise. The boy can be exceptionally quiet when he actively tries.
"Hello, darling."
His cheeks are pink and cold, his eyes bright, and his smile beaming.
"Have you been in the snow?"
"Aunt Mykes an'Daddy an'me made a snowdude."
"A snowdude?"HG chuckles.
"Yeah. With a cowboy hat,"Max says matter-of-factly, hopping onto the couch, smiling in the fire-warmed room.
"Very nice. I'll have to see it in the morning, since it looks a little dark now."
Max nods. "He's taking care of the shovel."
He's dressed just in his long johns and fuzzy wool socks. She can only imagine the pile of outerwear by the door, slowly being added to as Myka and Pete shed their winter clothes more slowly than the little speed demon snuggled in beside her.
"Are you cold still?"
Max shakes his head and shrugs, then pauses, cocking his head towards the piano.
"S'pretty."
"It is. Grandpa Artie is very talented."
Max nods, keeping an ear on the piano even as he wiggles his toes under her thigh. This Christmas time, as if sensing her sadder mood, Max has been very patient and gentle with her, close at hand but often calmer than usual.
"How's he do it?"he asks several minutes later, after HG has returned to her book.
"Do what, darling?"
Max motions to the piano.
"Aha. Years of practice. Likely many lessons.
"Lessons?"
"Someone taught him to play."
"Oh."
"If you go closer, Max, I'm sure he'd answer any of your questions."
"Yeah?"Max asks for confirmation, sounding oh-so-much like his father.
"Indeed."She smirks only a little as she sends the inquisitive little boy off to his often impatient grandfather.
"Okay!"
He lunges forward and kisses her cheek, then hops down and sprints on stocking feet towards the piano.
Claudia, Leena, and Pete have the turned the B&B into a winter wonderland of holiday crap. Artie really has no patience for it, but Vanessa, in town for a few weeks for the holiday, seems to find it charming. With her encouragement, he's been spending more time at the B&B's piano playing carols both modern and ancient. So far there have been no objections, and even a few sing-a-longs.
There's a tell-tale pitter-patter charging in behind him. Vanessa, leaning against the piano, beams and greets:
"Hello, Mr. Max!"
"Hi,"Max answers back, stopping short of the piano bench, just off Artie's shoulder. The boy hasn't shown any interest in the piano since he was an infant fascinated with the keys, but tonight he seems intrigued. "What ya playin'?"
"Lo, how a rose e'er blooming,"Artie answers without stopping.
Max's silence broadcasts his confusion.
"But maybe you'd prefer a little 'Jingle Bells',"he suggests, easily transitioning to the more upbeat tune. Max steps in closer, climbing onto the bench beside him, staring intently at his hands.
"How do you make the music?"he questions.
"With my fingers."
"Artie…"Vanessa reproaches.
"Each of these white and black keys makes a different sound. When I put the sounds together I make songs."
"Which keys?"
"Whichever ones fit together. And I learned that through practice and lessons."
"Agey says someone teached you."
"Yes, someone taught me,"Artie says, not missing a note.
"Who?"
"My father."
"Oh."
Artie moves into "We Wish You a Merry Christmas"and Max watches, enraptured. Halfway through "Sleigh Bells", Max blurts:
"Can you teach me?"
Artie pauses, and the music falls away.
He's only four (and four months), albeit a very bright four from what Artie can tell. And many of his father's students had started on the basics that young, a little exposure to the art, at least.
"Maybe."
"If your dad says it's okay."
He begins to brighten against.
"And you promise to listen to me."Max nods. "And practice every day."That's not actually going to happen, but it's good to start the expectations early. "And always wash your hands before you touch the piano."Max nods again, vigorously. "Do you promise?"
"Yes, Grandpa Artie!"
Later, he'll defend against the teasing by saying that he was powerless to say no with Vanessa looking at him like that and that he is in no way soft. But for now, he'll admit to feeling a strong surge of affection when Max beams at him. He definitely isn't teary as he says:
"As long as it's okay with Dad, we'll start after New Years."
"Oh, Mummy. The baby is beautiful. Thank you."
Christina has that absolutely radiant smile in pace, her eyes alight with joy. She holds a bundle of blankets in her little arms, and Helena's heart skips in her chest as a tiny hand pushes up into the air from the blankets.
"I always wanted one. So sweet,"Christina nuzzles the infant in her arms, inhaling deeply and looking over at her mother, eyes sparkling. "Thank you so much."
"You're welcome,"Helena manages to croak, not quite sure what she's accepting gratitude for.
They sit for what feels like an eternity, Helena sitting dumbfounded on Christina's nursery bed as her daughter rocks the baby and sings familiar lullabies.
"I've been ever so lonely, Mummy,"Christina sighs, finally looking up. "But now you've brought me some company."
Helena's blood runs cold and she tries to reach for the infant. Christina laughs and dances away, holding her sibling out of reach.
"No, no,"she tuts, and the baby starts to cry. "Mine to keep. My mummy brought me a baby, and it's mine to keep. It's - "
Helena wakes with a yell.
That's rare. Her dreams are often bad, nightmares worse, but she has, despite Myka's reproaches, trained herself to wake from them pretty soundlessly. This time, though, she cries out loud enough to wake Myka, if she hadn't already been awake herself, battling an uncomfortable insomnia made even more frustrating by the fatigue that's plagued her waking hours of late.
Myka has her arms around Helena in a second, hands slipping on shoulders slick with sweat. She kisses her temple and soothes:
"Hey. Hey, it's okay. I've got you. I've got you."
It's too dark to make out Helena's face, but Myka's seen it often enough to know: fear, then confusion, lost in time and space, and finally that half-second of heartbreak and devastation before she composes herself.
"Myka?"
Her voice is still so shaky: maybe she needs more than half a second this time.
"I'm here. It's okay. Go back to sleep."
"Not tonight."Helena clears her voice, more composed. "Sorry to wake you."
"I wish you had,"Myka sighs, holding her close.
"Still not sleeping, darling?"
"Nope."
"Well, at least we can keep each other company."
Myka looks at the clock. "At least for the next hour or two before Max starts running around yelling about Santa."
Helena manages a little chuckle. Last year was the first year Max understood the concept of Santa Claus, and since he has been humming with anticipation since Thanksgiving, they have no reason to think he won't be even more exuberant this year.
After a few moments where their soft breathing is the only thing that fills the room, Myka starts:
"Do you want to talk-"
"No. Not yet."
It's a silly little project that has Helena in the Top Secret Shed today. It doesn't really matter what she's tinkering with, really. She just needed an excuse to escape for a few hours. They've all been together quite a bit during this lull between Christmas and New Years. While it's been lovely for the most part, and she's mustered quite a bit of genuine holiday cheer, there has been a weight on her shoulders, a hard to shake shadow that sends her frequently seeking solitude.
The banging of the door is loud, especially given that until now the only sound was the quiet hum of the soldering iron. She jumps, giving herself a quick burn. She curses and sucks on the offended finger, pulling the protective goggles down around her neck.
"Peter,"she calls loudly, "For the last time, I will not make that train set go any faster, and I've forbidden Claudia from- Myka!"
Breathless and flushed, Myka is, to be perfectly honest, a bit of a mess. And, completely coat-less in late December in South Dakota.
"What is it?"Helena asks, pulling her into the shed and all but shoving her closer to one of the heaters. "What's wrong?"
Myka trips a little at the manhandling, revealing untied boots and no socks.
"Are you trying to freeze?"Helena admonishes.
"I took a test,"Myka blurts. "I didn't want to tell you, because you make this face, every time."Myka pauses, apologetic. "I thought it would be negative again, but…They were positive. They were all positive. I'm-"
"Pregnant,"Helena finishes for her.
Myka nods, beaming. There are snowflakes in her hair, melting in the warmth of the shed.
Helena's world tilts. She grabs onto the work table, flashing back to the dreams that have plagued her, her darling Christina turned slightly sinister, coveting and keeping that faceless child in her nightmares. And then further, to the first time she held Christina in her arms and swore to never let any harm come to her.
She failed.
This time-
"Hey,"Myka interjects softly, placing a cold hand on her cheek, smile fading just a little.
Her world shifts again. All the progress she's made comes flooding back to her, reminding her of the life she is building with this amazing woman. The life she has created with this amazing woman.
"Are you-"
"Ecstatic,"Helena answers enthusiastically before she can finish. "Utterly ecstatic."
She pulls Myka towards her, an arm around her waist, a hand in her hair, her forehead against hers.
"I can't believe you were so impatient,"she murmurs, teasing. Though if she's honest, perhaps it was for the best. The seconds ticking away as they waited for test results had left her far too long to think on her anxieties.
Myka laughs in relief, and Helena smiles wider as warm breath sends errant curls tickling across her cheek.
"I didn't want to tell anyone yet, but I think it's going to be hard to get away with that when I just sprinted barefoot past a full living room,"Myka says.
"They're probably all gathered at the back window right now,"Helena agrees.
She kisses Myka then, grateful for the persistent frost on the Top Secret Shed's only window. They stand like that for several minutes, exchanging soft kisses and possessive caresses until finally they pull apart.
Her hands slide to Myka's stomach, resting lightly, and she meets her eyes.
"Thank you."
"Thank me when he or she is screaming at three in the morning. Or slamming doors as a teenager."
"No. Thank you, Myka,"Helena insists. "I know all about the work it takes to carry a child. So thank you for carrying ours."
Myka smiles, covering Helena's hands with her own.
"Well, I expect you to be holding my hair every time I puke. And I have a lot of hair."
"Gladly."
"And if what they say about crazy cravings is true-"
"It is."
"Then you might be taking a lot of late night trips to Featherhead."
"With pleasure, darling."
"We'll see about that when I'm a giant, cranky whale."
"I'm sure you'll continue to be a complete delight."
"Are you going to be this nice the whole time? Because it's kind of starting to freak me out."
"I'll attempt to be more cruel, then,"Helena teases. Myka laughs, and Helena relishes the light in her eyes. She takes a moment to hope that their child's eyes are as green as her wife's. It's the most she's really allowed herself to hope, and it quickly sobers her. "I will probably worry quite a bit. Too much, in fact."
"That's okay,"Myka promises, seriously. "And I'll be here to help you not worry too much. Deal?"
"Indeed, my love. I do believe we have a deal."
tbc