I finally found someone who knocks me off my feet
I finally found the one who makes me feel complete
It started over coffee, we started out as friends
It's funny how from simple things, the best things begin.
- Barbra Streisand and Bryan Adams

"You catalogued the IRS Quartum according to the four periods: the Age of Emperors, the Age of Princes, the Early Habsburg, and Dissolution. This is a reconstitution of the entire section." Artie flipped back and forth through the thickly compiled proposal, rubbing his chin in the process. He muttered to himself as much as to his new protégé, "And structured at that. If only all my agents were as diligent!" He finished with a growl and threw the catalog book down as if it was too good to be true.

Myka smiled, taking the compliment. She enjoyed impressing the man. Despite the snapping jowls and 'shoo fly' demeanor Artie had a subtle way of showing his appreciation. There was a kind man beneath those untamed brows, and Myka was fond of that man. He pushed her to excel, go beyond the pale of normal academic research. In some ways it was like pushing a novice swimmer into deep, arctic chill waters. Artie did not coddle Myka, nor offer refreshment and a warm blanket. He gave orders and entrusted her to use her own judgment. It was more than Myka could ask for, so letting this new mentor down was not an option. Impressing her new boss was fast becoming a bright aspect of her days at the Warehouse.

"I hope you don't mind," Myka mumbled, suddenly aware that restructuring an entire section of the Warehouse was the very definition of stepping out of line.

"Mind?" Artie echoed, fixating on her from over his spectacles and sliding them up on his nose when need be. "Whatever makes my job easier is more like it. Keeps me away from antacids and Pete's whining about not finding something."

Surrounded by piles of books, papers, and index cards she had spent those past two days pouring over, the former professor shifted on her chair. "I know someone who could condense all these files using a more advanced system. Not that the current one is lacking in efficiency," Myka added carefully. "She's a real tech wizard."

Artie snorted. "Is she expensive?"

"She's a student."

"So cheap as they come," he settled. His jaw set, then, and his voice lowered gravely. "One thing you have to understand, Myka, is that we do not employ outside help. No consultants, technicians, or specialists."

"But –"

"You and H.G. Wells were exceptions." A portly finger rose in warning. "Special exceptions approved by the Regents themselves. Secrecy is of utmost importance, as you learned about in your orientation. You don't let the Commander and Chief access to this facility much less the pizza delivery guy as Pete has been tirelessly advocating for."

Myka nodded firmly. "Understood."

"Good."

The locket hung around her neck and rested on her warm skin. As all the times it hid safety within her pocket she would finger it in her hand. There were moments when Myka would pause in the middle of her day, looking around with a frown on her face as if she misplaced something. In those moments the locket brought her a measure of peace, though not to the extent its owner would promote.

She had not worn it before, believing it to be an insult to its meaning between a mother and daughter. Given that the sacred treasure was left behind with clear intent, Myka resolved to wear it as it was meant to be worn. The golden locket lay close to her heart and its pictures of two very well loved individuals were always kept warm and remembered.

"Artie, I've been meaning to ask you…" Myka played with the corner of a page before relinquishing hold. She folded her arms on the table, the curiosity growing in the lines around her narrowed eyes. "How did Mrs. Frederic and the Regents take me on so quickly for the Rosetta Stone case? You had been watching over Helena for years, so her abilities were not in question. The whole purpose of Warehouse 13 is to keep artifacts from the world, yet I was brought into the fold with little surveillance or background checks. I mean, up until that night in Chicago at the park Mrs. Frederic hadn't met me."

Arthur grew still. His shoulders sagged with the sigh, much as if shedding weighty disclosure. He tipped his head in Myka's direction and raised brow. "Your involvement in the Warehouse was no coincidence. Neither was meeting Mrs. Frederic, though the timing was sooner than anticipated." He settled in the chair next to Myka, close but far enough to give her room and time to process. "Like Miss Wells, you were watched over by the Regents. Myka…" Arthur exhaled a grunt, shaking his head, "you were selected to become a Warehouse agent long before you met Mrs. Frederic."

Myka's mouth hung open. No words came. All she could do was search Arthur's eyes for certainty.

"There was no doubt about your qualifications. The Regents voted unanimously to recruit you. I was instructed to find you in Chicago and encourage you to South Dakota. Once here, it was a simple matter of giving a tour before I formerly offered you the position. But life is full of surprises," he conceded, absently patting his hand on the table, "and the world is sometimes smaller than we'd like to think."

Myka nodded. Everyone was at the right place at the right time that night. It was kismet. Mrs. Frederic, Myka, Helena…

"Was she considered for the Warehouse as well?"

"No," he replied with finality, but the dismay on Myka's face spurred him to explain. "We do not normally hire those with family. Like all top-secret government jobs, personal ties are a distraction. Lack of attachments is by no means a precondition, but it certainly is a factor in the way we assess potentials."

"But everyone who works here has family," argued Myka. "And I've seen how Pete looks up to you even though you both grate on each other's nerves. He sees you as a father, and I'm sure I wouldn't be wrong in saying you see him as a son."

"While I will admit our agents will develop partnerships here at the Warehouse, they are merely attachments built in the field. It is based on a mutual faith essential to fulfilling our purpose. I know Agent Lattimer has my back just like he knows I have his. That is trust. Children just make things complicated."

"That is even more reason to consider individuals with children. They realize exactly who they are fighting for and protecting from artifacts."

"I'm sorry, but H.G. was never a candidate. Her involvement in the Rosetta case was strictly due to her association with Lewis Web."

Arthur felt a pang at how the color drained from Myka's face whenever her friend was mentioned. Ever since H.G. and Christina left the former professor had actively avoided mentioning their names.

"I will admit," he went on, his jaw tightening, "that after recent events H.G. had come to surprise the Regents. You know of Mrs. Frederic's offer. What is inside someone's files is one thing, but actions displayed in the field is another. H.G. had proven her courage and intuition in the thick of danger and in highly stressful, bewildering situations. She would have been a welcome addition to the Warehouse team," he bowed his head and granted resentfully, "if she had not turned it down."

Myka stared at him hard and silent, sucking her lip absently. "I see."

Some moments after the discussion came to a stunted close she stood and walked out the office to the balcony. Her one hand ran along the railing until it grasped. She felt the cold metal as her other hand did the same. She inhaled the Warehouse. She inhaled the Painite walls, the concrete floor, the stale artifacts… but the strangest thing caused her eyes to flutter open and pierce through the distance. It was so strange because in that 100 years old structure she smelled…

Apples?

Whether it was apples, oranges, pears, or Pete's new cologne, Myka breathed in the scent. Her throat hummed softly and she smiled. Myka liked it there. Who would ever pass up such an opportunity of endless wonder? The Warehouse was rich with history just waiting to be explored. Myka would venture to guess it would take her more than one lifetime to soak up all the mystifying knowledge the place offered. And it was all hers for the taking. Time was stretched out before her like a runway, going the entire distance of the Warehouse which was probably as endless as its custodian claimed it to be.

God, it was simply exciting to think about. Myka's blood ran fast and electric at the thrill of her new job. She wondered if agents before her had been as giddy as she about fieldwork, hunting the missing pieces of history, and salvaging the most beautiful, most dangerous things spawned into their world. She wondered if they had to make hard decisions as she had, if they were forced to choose between two loves. Were they as conflicted as she was then? Did they feel happiness and guilt simultaneously as they hung on that railing and gazed out at the expanse?

Myka sighed. Her chin dropped to her chest. The balcony may become a place of clarity. Her thumbs caressed the railing and she leaned back to stretch before folding her arms atop it and settling her chin down. This was a place of harmony and enlightenment. She would have to remember that given Pete's warnings. Myka would call herself a stable individual, sound of mind and physically fit. She couldn't imagine coming to the end that most agents of the Warehouse encountered. To turn evil, go insane, or pass before her time… those were not options. They were threats, and Myka would not allow herself to be threatened, blackmailed, or seduced. People cared about her, loved her. The professor – the agent – had to keep herself good, sane, and living for those that believed in her.

Though serving as an escape from tedious tasks of inventory and cataloging, the balcony did not offer complete clarity until days later. Myka was in her usual stance slunk over the railing with all the laziness of an undergrad but with the worry lines of a woman who had seen the unimaginable.

The smell of apples remained but it was no longer a mystery she wished to solve.

She finally turned her back on the grand landscape of snagged history.

"Finished brooding on your balcony?"

"Wha… huh?" Myka halted her stride into Artie's office. "How did you…?"

Artie rocked back on his chair, pen tapping at his chin as he continued to stare at a file in his grasp. "In all my years of being custodian here I have never had an agent as cogitative as you. You spend more time out there than you do in my office or down on the Warehouse floor." He pointed the end of his pen towards the slated window, stating plainly, "And I can see you."

"Oh." Myka frowned. She touched the hairs on a neck that certainly blushed.

"I won't tell. Forget I even know. Like Agent Lattimer doesn't know I know about his super-secret 'Pete Cave.'"

Myka's chuckle sustained at the presence of the man's small smile. Arthur rarely displayed humor, but when he did it warred with the bristles on his face which made it all the more genuine.

"Now that we're on the subject and considering the determined look on your face when you entered my office did your special place offer any pertinent insight?"

The concern in his voice knocked down a few bricks in her wall while making her feel warm and safe at the same time. If only her father had made her feel half that much.

"I've been thinking about what you told me the other day, that my connection with the Warehouse was fated." Myka had been talking to the floor but eventually she had the strength to face him. "Artie, I don't normally think that way. I used to believe we have full control over our choices and their results. A practical person like me… it is the only thing I could believe. But then I saw this place and witnessed with my own eyes the power of a calling."

Arthur shrugged. "Destiny and free will may have separate meanings but one cannot exist without the other. The power to choose is an extension of purpose. And one's purpose cannot exist without a choice to be made."

Though she was nodding, Myka was wrapped up in her current purpose. "I made a decision not long ago," she began slowly, hands clasped but antsy, "and I made it based on just one of two predestined futures I fully believed in. The Warehouse is… it's like home. I feel accepted here. Yet I can't help but think that other events in my life may not have been coincidence." Her eyes fell closed. Her brunette curls swung with her shaking head, straining for a simpler meaning. "There must have been some reason, some... occurrence in nature that led me to Helena just as I was led to this place." Myka gave a short laugh and gestured around her. She looked around in awe. "This wonderful place."

"You have doubts."

"Didn't you?" Myka asked hopefully. "When you first started working here?"

"My situation was vastly different from yours. It is a story that I cannot tell." He sighed. "Pete became an agent because he was born into it. Same goes for Leena. Our pasts before the Warehouse don't matter. It's still there for me. I think about it from time to time, but it does not define what I do in the present. Or at least I try to not let it affect my work." He cocked his head almost sympathetically. "We all have doubts, Myka. We all think about the roads we should have taken and where we would be if we didn't pick the secret life of artifact retrieval. Pete and Leena are here because they chose to be, not because it was fate. They still choose to be here. But that's them, and I am me. You are you."

A silence settled over the office. Arthur tried not to hope for one outcome over the other. Myka tried to weigh one over the other and with considerable struggle.

"I can't. Artie. I… just can't."

He studied her for a moment, wondering what it would have been like to have an agent that actually followed the rules, one who had read the manual, memorized it and frequently quoted from it. He wondered if she would have been groomed to take his place. Of course she would. She was Myka. He wondered if they would have become close, like friends, like family. Would he, when the time came, have treated her, loved her, as a daughter? Yes, he was sure of it.

Arthur gave a small smile and nodded his understanding. "I think I know that."

Myka's head fell to the side. She felt the warmth filling eyes that smiled back. She chuckled a bit because he was doing that thoughtful, gentle thing he tried so hard to disguise. And if he was accused of being that kind he would have disputed it gruffly, which made him all the more amusing.

"Thank you, Artie."

His double-take wasn't subtle, mouth agape, eyes softening to the impossible, perhaps because he wasn't the type that received such honest gratitude, but he covered it up with a grunt. He shooed her away with flapping hands before going back to his work.

She had only been there a week, but Myka knew that was his way of saying, "You're welcome."

Myka was packed that same day and prepared for her flight. Her belongings had not yet been shipped from Chicago so there wasn't much to shove in her suitcase. She would leave the bed and breakfast with the same amount she arrived with. Clothes and the supplies, that was. There was no substitute for the new experiences she would take with her: the ebbing thrill of adventure, the friendships, the memories.

She had said her goodbyes to Steve Jinks and Leena. Steve shook her hand with about the same professionalism as when she first returned it, however with the fresh addition of a smile and the wish to keep in touch. Leena did not shy from a hug. In fact, she initiated it with gusto, pulling Myka in and surrounding her in a memorable scent of tea and baked cookies. She even sent her off with a packed lunch which Myka was thankful for.

Pete was a different matter. She had left him for last not because of his predicted teasing but because goodbye would be a challenge. Despite the short time they had known each other, the man was like the brother she never had. She hoped he wouldn't be angry. She hoped he would understand. Though some would argue the contrary, Pete had it in him to understand the decisions people made and why they made them. He was smart, Myka granted, in his own Pete way, and she wished she could see him grow and evolve and prove the critics wrong. More than anything she hoped they would keep in touch because she didn't think she could go a week without hearing him talk about the newest episode of Revenge (with a mouthful of potato chips, of course). Maybe Steve could help out as Pete loved to torture the guy into watching it with him.

When the time came they were standing across from each other as if preparing for a duel. They mirrored one another, arms hanging at their sides, feet shoulder-width apart, and chins tucked in a serious bow. Her bags lay at her feet in the foyer of Leena's. She was ready to go, but had one last thing to do.

"Well, I guess this is it."

"Looks like," Pete agreed. His hands shifted to his hips. He shuffled his feet.

Her mouth tightened into a grin. She took in the interior of the bed and breakfast for the last time. The staircase, the hall to the library, the entryway to the deliciously smelling kitchen, and double doors to the sun room… it all had been a welcome, homey place. Myka was lucky to have lived there for as short a time as it lasted.

"So yeah," Pete mumbled.

He grimaced a bit, grasping for an idea for how to say goodbye to a girl like Myka. Though their personalities clashed, he and the newbie had been great partners. At least, that was how it seemed to him. It took him a while to warm up to the snooty professor, to get her to laugh at his jokes, and to craft some of her own. He liked her. He cared about her. Despite knowing where her heart truly lied Pete didn't want to let her go. He grimaced and stumbled because he knew this might be the hardest thing he's ever had to do – besides keeping himself alive on missions.

"I'm happy, Pete."

Myka's assurance was unwavering. Pete had been right about H.G. The Englishwoman had meant more to her than she let on. If it didn't occur to her Pete would have probably resorted to some childish antic where the two women found themselves trapped alone in some crypt or cellar or locked room in the bed and breakfast with nothing but their love and their hope for more.

"I'm happy," she repeated. "Or I will be in a few hours."

Pete Lattimer, muscular, cocky agent of the Warehouse ducked his head and laughed softly, nervously. Myka was not normally a touchy-feely kind of person. She saw the scared little boy who was always left behind and couldn't help herself.

"Hey now! Watch the merchandise." Pete forced himself to smile into the woman's diving hug, knowing that this was truly goodbye.

"Sorry," Myka mumbled into his shoulder and stiffened.

But he held on and refused to let her shy away. They hugged in their own awkward, nervous, honest way that friends and former partners in artifact snagging hugged. She gripped his shoulders as he cradled her in return. A grin spread across her face as she predicted him letting her go in a few seconds with a masculine yet tear-filled wave. Myka closed her eyes, safe and sound, and sighed.

Myka Bering loved the Warehouse and the people in it. She would never forget the good times they all shared. But the affection she felt for a building and the agents it employed was not similar to what was felt for the Wells'. She yearned for H.G. and Christina like she couldn't Pete, Leena, Steve, or even Artie. She fell so deeply in love with Helena and desperately wanted to fall further. She wanted to explore those depths, and that could only be done with Helena.

It was a fact of life – Myka's life – that she could not live without Helena. Try as she did, her heart could no longer be detached from its counterpart. For maybe once in her life, Myka was sure of something: she had a locket to return and this new, exciting love that filled the spaces too.

Pete held on to Myka with a chin on her shoulder. "Go get her."

And she did.

In the final days before saying goodbye to the Warehouse, even before her decision had been made, Myka had dreams. She missed Helena and Christina. She woke up from the usual dreams, but soon they began to feature more than kisses. She dreamt of their life, raising Christina and growing old together. It was so emotional and arresting that she woke up in sobs. With a hand clamped over her mouth she trembled and cried and… Would she forget them? Would they forget her? Might they ever see one another again? Those were the questions that plagued her in the last days living in the bed and breakfast.

One night Myka dreamt of the cabin in Spain. Helena took her there as promised and showed her the countryside. They talked and they cooked. They sat by the fireside and read to one another. Before the dawn broke they had already made adequate use of the master bedroom. Myka dreamt of making love to Helena and it was so blissful her soul expanded and merged with her love. They dove for each other, exploring depths only dreamt of until they ached deliciously. She felt so light, like her soul could float up and away and reunite with its other half in Chicago.

And that was what did it. Goddamn Chicago. With that single word, the image of a grand cityscape, Myka woke up with the haunting reality: Helena never took her to the cottage. They didn't hold hands as they walked through the nearest village. The kitchen wasn't in danger of getting burnt down from the Englishwoman's smug talent of flambéing. And they never consummated their feelings through fleshly delights. Myka had never thought of being with a woman in that way. If she was honest with herself, she had never experienced those things with a man. The ways in which she shared herself with Helena in the dream world was… incomparable. The woman was unique and beautiful, and such a woman as that needed unique attention.

It brought Myka's stomach plummeting. She almost never made it out of bed that morning, the day she said goodbye to Arthur Nielsen. Even Pete asked after her when she trudged in for breakfast at a whopping two hours following the latest B&B riser.

But that had been several days ago.

Myka withdrew her hands from her jacket pockets and stopped at the metal fence. Her fingers curled through the holes and hung on as she contemplated turning back. No, Myka Bering had quit turning her back on the people she loved.

Just that morning she called Pete, asking how he was and whether he already had his second breakfast. He sounded surprised to hear from her so soon, but expressed his enthusiasm once he swallowed his banana (or as much as his standards would allow). Myka had apparently called at just the right time because everyone was sitting for a late breakfast at the bed and breakfast. She could still feel the elated jump her heart gave when she heard the voices of Leena, Steve, and Artie over the speaker.

Fingers unfurling around the fence, Myka passed through like an early fall breeze. The park was busied with the usual humdrum: dogs and Frisbee throwing owners, a teenage football game, and children giggling on the playground equipment.

The anticipation brought a smile to Myka and something odd occurred to her. For as hard as she had fallen in love, she and H.G. hadn't known one another for that long. They shared but a few months together in monotonous Chicago and then two weeks at a bed and breakfast. At that point they thought they had learned everything there was to know about each other. Then came London, France, and Egypt where adventure bred unexpected dangers. And lastly, the turn of one historical certainty that led to a kiss so long anticipated it would seem inevitable.

Myka hadn't known H.G. long before she'd been swept up in danger, intrigue, and all manner of secrets. But if it weren't for any of that she wouldn't be standing where she was now, fully aware of what she wanted and how to keep it.

A mother and her daughter sat together under a large oak tree. The breeze tipped the ends of long, black hair just as its owner fought to bring it behind an ear. Her frustration was apparent, yet the girl by her side eased the worst of it. The woman surrendered a chuckle as her daughter read from the colorful pamphlet and used grand voices and gestures taught to her by a rabid Iron Shadow fanboy. The two looked happy – on the outside.

Myka felt more than heard the animated voices as they carried on the wind. There would be more than one void being filled that day, she thought.

Myka walked through the park, anxious to join the mother and daughter sitting under the oak tree, waiting as if they had always been waiting for her.