Fusion: Warehouse 13/Elementary

Notes: This is the second part in a collection of seven AUs spotlighting Bering & Wells - one for each day of AU week. Some will be one-offs, others I hope to revisit in more detail later.

This was intended for Day Two of AU Week, but also got posted a tad late. The dialogue was lifted directly from the pilot episode of Elementary, then reworked as needed.

~~FIC~~

Myka Bering's day started out normally enough - up at 7am like always for her morning jog, using the quiet time to clear her head and get her thoughts in order for the new client she was meeting with that afternoon.

The jog went about as well as could be expected, despite the somewhat damp weather, and Myka was still feeling the runner's high as she walked back through the doors of her apartment building. First meetings with new clients always made her both anxious and excited, but she found that the mixture worked for her.

She wasn't even through the lobby of her building yet when her phone rang. Checking the Caller ID and recognizing the name as related to her new client, she answered right away. "Bering. What? Yeah, I'm coming to get her in..."

Myka broke off as the speaker continued, not quite believing what she'd heard. "I'm sorry, did you say she *escaped*? Right. No, no, I have an address I can go check - I'm sure everything's fine."

Fighting back a sigh, Myka put away her phone and hurried up to her apartment. She'd had clients do some very odd things, but this was a little above and beyond - there was no way to know yet if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and the sudden flare of anxiety killed whatever was left of her endorphin rush.

An hour later, Myka was showered, changed, and standing in front of the fence enclosing the brownstone that matched her new client's address. There was a dark-haired woman visible in one of the bottom floor windows - Myka's eyes locked onto the tattoos covering the woman's back before she realized they were only visible because the woman was still in the process of putting on her shirt.

Forcing her eyes away, Myka grabbed her phone and dialed an international number. It rang for a moment, then kicked over to voicemail. "You've reached Charles Wells. Please leave a message with your contact information after the tone and I will return your call as soon as I am able."

Myka did just that, trying to phrase her message as positively as possible. "Hi, Mr. Wells. This is Myka Bering. I'm sure Hemdale has already contacted you, but I wanted to let you know that your sister left rehab a little early this morning. I'm at the brownstone now to check in on her - I'll call you back if there's a problem."

The dark-haired woman from the window came through the front door just as Myka hung up her phone. A quick glance at the woman's face confirmed that it wasn't Myka's client, but her outfit - tight black shirt, black hotpants, and black fishnets - made Myka nervous that her client might already be getting herself into trouble.

Myka made her way through the gate and up the walk, hoping to get the woman's help as they crossed paths. "Excuse me, I'm looking for-"

The woman just ignored her and kept walking without so much as a word, so Myka decided to risk going into the brownstone uninvited. It was definitely an older building, with a somewhat rundown interior, but it was not without its charms - it would probably look amazing if someone took the time to renovate it and get its occupants to tidy up a little.

There didn't seem to be anyone on the first floor, but Myka called out anyway to announce her presence. "Hello? Is anyone home?"

Noise began filtering down from the second floor as Myka neared the staircase - it sounded like several tv sets blaring all at once, and Myka figured she might as well check it out. Following the din up the stairs and down the hall led her to a room full of the expected television sets - and, thankfully, her client.

That client, somewhat improbably dressed in form-hugging jeans and an equally tight Doctor Who tank top, was standing in the center of the room beside a low table full of remotes, a ponytail the color of India ink bobbing against her neck and shoulders as she randomly looked from screen to screen. She seemed alert and focused, but also relaxed, which boded well.

Myka cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Miss-"

"Shh!" The client didn't seem to realize how rude that had sounded, not that Myka would have let it bother her even if they'd been deliberately trying to provoke her. The other woman was clearly in the middle of some sort of mental exercise or other, so Myka waited quietly until she reached for the remotes and paused everything.

Myka took a breath and jumped right in - this was going to be awkward no matter how she played it. "Miss Wells? My name is Myka Bering. I've been hired by your brother Charles to be your sober companion. He told me he was going to speak with you about bringing me in."

That garnered no appreciable response, so Myka pressed on into her usual introductory speech. "I'm here to make the transition from your rehab experience to the routine of your everyday life as smooth as possible - in your case, that means I'll be living with you for the next six weeks. It also means that I'll be available to you night or day during that time."

Something in that seemed to finally capture the other woman's attention - something flickered across the other woman's face too quickly for Myka to identify as they finally made eye contact. The other woman's eyes were so dark they were almost black, and Myka found that strangely unnerving.

Those black eyes suddenly fixated on Myka with an almost overwhelming intensity as the other woman finally spoke in a crisp London accent. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"What?" Myka fought the urge to backpedal as the room suddenly got about ten times smaller.

Myka had been advised already by Charles Wells that his sister was openly bisexual - hence her lack of surprise at the woman all dressed in black earlier - but had somehow failed to consider the possibility that she herself might get hit on.

It had happened before - albeit with male clients - and the best thing to do was make it clear from moment one that such behavior was unacceptable and would not be tolerated. Before Myka could do that, though, the other woman moved into her personal space, those impossibly dark eyes seeming to bore right into her.

Something in the other woman's honeyed, accented voice made it impossible to pull away or interrupt as she pressed on. "I know what you're thinking: the world is a cynical place, and I must be a cynical woman, thinking a woman like you would fall for a line like that. Thing is - it isn't a line, so please hear me when I say this: I have never loved anyone as I do you right now, in this moment."

Myka had to fight to keep her breathing calm and even as all the air seemed to slowly disappear from the room - she knew she should be doing something to stop this, to take back control of the situation, but she was as completely and effectively stunned as if she'd been hit on the head.

The spell didn't break until the unexpected and far too loud click of a remote brought one of the television screens back to life. The sudden noise startled Myka out of her paralysis, and her purse slipped from her shoulder to spill at her feet - looking up as she shoved everything back into her bag, she stared almost uncomprehendingly at the scene playing out on the screen in front of her.

As near as Myka could figure, it was a scene from some soap opera or other - a man and woman standing together as the man declared his love using almost exactly the same words that her strange new client had been speaking just a moment ago.

The two women stood together in silence as the scene played out, as if both checking the dialogue for accuracy. "Do you believe in love at first sight? I know what you're thinking: the world is a cynical place, and I must be a cynical man, thinking a woman like you would fall for a line like that. Thing is - it isn't a line, so please hear me when I say this: I have never loved anyone as I do you right now, in this moment."

Suddenly, Myka's client turned off the television and tossed the remote aside, bouncing slightly on the balls of her bare feet. "Spot on!"

Turning to Myka, she held out a hand. "Helena Wells."

Myka shook the offered hand, though Helena Wells was on the move as soon as she let go. "Please don't get too comfortable, darling. We shan't be here long."

Helena headed out the door and beelined for the stairs, leaving Myka no choice but to follow. "Miss Wells, did your brother tell you about me or not?"

Helena, apparently occupied with searching one of the first floor rooms for something, didn't even look Myka's direction, though she did grimace a little at the question. "Helena, darling, please. And yes, Charles emailed me, told me to expect some sort of an addict-sitter."

Helena's voice and word choice made her disdain for the idea quite clear, but that was nothing Myka hadn't encountered before. "So he explained his conditions with respect to your sobriety?"

Having found the boots she'd been hunting for, Helena settled into a chair to put them on. "If by 'conditions' you mean my dear brother's threats to evict me from this - the shoddiest and least renovated of the *five* properties he owns in New York City - then yes, he has made his conditions quite clear."

Helena, done tugging on her boots, began lacing them up. She looked up to meet Myka's eyes, attempting to convey both her understanding of and her dislike for the current ground rules. "If I use, I wind up on the street. If I refuse your graciously offered assistance, I wind up on the street."

Both boots properly laced now, Helena merely peered at Myka for a long moment. "It's my understanding that most sober companions are recovering addicts themselves. I'd wager you've never had a problem with drugs or alcohol in your life."

Myka nodded. "That's true. It doesn't mean I can't help you, though."

Helena smirked at Myka, who felt her heart skip a beat or two. "Oh, darling, I have no doubt that there are many ways in which you could assist me. I do believe you'd even enjoy most of them."

Myka took an involuntary step back as Helena rose to her feet, but was able to disguise it as merely stepping out of Helena's way as the other woman passed by her and into the hallway. Following after her, Myka settled herself against the door frame as Helena dug through a pile of clothes in what was clearly her bedroom.

Deceptively casual, Myka asked the question she'd been pondering since the phone call earlier. "So, why exactly did you break out of Hemdale when you were going to be released in just a few hours?"

Helena was busy searching under the bed, and her response was only partly intelligible. "...bored."

"You were bored?" Somehow, Myka could actually believe that, coming from this woman.

"No," Helena corrected as she got back to her feet, "I'm bored right now. It happens often, darling - don't take it personally. As for our mutual friends at Hemdale, I have no idea why they're so upset - hadn't they rather be thanking me for exposing the flaws in their terrible security system?"

Even Myka had to smile at that, a smile Helena returned as she finally located the button-down shirt she was after and confirmed that it was wearable. "Excellent."

It was a good moment, so Myka took advantage of it to ask another sensitive question. "The woman who was leaving just as I got here - did she get you high?"

Helena, seemingly unperturbed, just continued buttoning her shirt as her gaze flicked over to the library-style ladder on the nearby wall. "About six feet, actually."

There were handcuffs attached to either side of the ladder, and a silk scarf hanging from one of the rungs. Oblivious to the fact that she might be over-sharing, Helena walked over and grabbed the scarf, hanging it around her neck. "It's quite the conundrum, really - I do so love sex, but I despise people in general."

Helena, smiling, looked at Myka and shrugged. "Ah, well, one does what one must to tend to the body's needs - right, Doctor?"

"I... I'm not a doctor." The words still hurt, even after all this time, and Myka blinked away the sudden sting in her eyes.

Helena, fortunately, didn't seem to pick up on Myka's discomfort. "Ah, but you were - a surgeon, I'd guess, judging by those lovely hands of yours. Is your car parked nearby?"

Myka blinked again, this time in confusion, as she tried to follow the shift from innuendo to legitimate question. "Yeah, it's just out- Wait, how did you know I had a car?"

Helena just grinned. "Elementary, my dear Ms. Bering - I saw a parking ticket fall out of your purse when you dropped everything earlier. You can't have one without the other, now, can you?"

"We're late, darling. We need to get going." Helena added after looking at the bedside clock. Then she pushed past Myka into the hallway.

"Late for what?" Myka asked, trailing behind Helena again.

Helena said nothing, merely continued moving through the first floor of the brownstone gathering up the various scattered personal items she'd need in order to leave the house. Finally, she snatched up her cellphone just as it beeped at her. "Never mind about the car, darling - Manhattan Bridge is down to a single lane. We'll take the Tube instead."

"The subway," Myka corrected automatically. "It's called the subway."

Helena wasn't listening, of course. She was too busy looking around the brownstone with a faintly horrified expression. "Look at this place, darling. I can't wait for you to tidy it up."

Myka wanted to argue that she hadn't been hired to play housekeeper, but she didn't figure it would do any good - she was too much of a neat freak to let the mess and clutter sit for very long, and she had a feeling they both knew it.

Sighing, she followed Helena out the front door. This was going to be a very long six weeks...