Author: Kloperslegend
Pairing: Myka Bering & HG Wells
Rating: PG
Spoiler: Season 2
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, but some days I sure do wish I did.

Summary: Unleashed into the world, the last thing Helena could ever wish for is to be wide awake. After killing Macpherson and fleeing, Myka and Helena have a few things to resolve.

A quickie before thanksgiving break. I assure you there will be more to come; the scaffolding for the next three chapters is already in place!

Days later Myka would reflect on what was said in the hotel room, all in the new light of what had happened. The woman had killed. Artie had been telling her as much the entire time, but death was something that was easily denied from a distance. No one could deny how devastated Artie was when Macpherson had essentially melted in his arms.

What had she said? "I'm disappointed, but not surprised."

Myka remembered clearly the distaste she expressed for Macpherson during their late night conversation. But had the artificer harbored enough distaste to kill?

All these thoughts roamed through her head listening to the low sounds of the bed and breakfast waking. First, Pete's solid thump onto the hardwood floor (an alarm clock never seemed to be enough for him), then the small sounds of Claudia stirring in the room across the hall. Artie's penguin-gait to claim the shower. Leena's sizzling kitchen sounds. It was a language of normalcy rarely interrupted by outside life, necessary for maintaining sanity. Sanity, after all, was a rare commodity in their day-to-day dealings.

Myka threw the blankets from the top of herself, stretching in bed before rising to meet the day. She frowned a bit as she quickly ran her fingers through her hair. As was common every morning, there was practically a mop on her head. To put it shortly: she was a mess.

Grumbling, Myka padded over to her dresser and pulled out the blue-grey blouse she planned on wearing for the day. As usual, Artie's five-minute shower started right as she was ready to wake up.

Suddenly there was rap on her door. She looked over, noticing for the first time a sticky note attached to the wood with scotch tape. Furrowing her brows but ignoring it for the moment, she opened the door.

"I think the football found a ping. Something about a high-school sports team." Claudia looked about as haggard as Myka felt, but her eyes twinkled as she continued on. "I'm just letting you know so you don't dress in sweats today."

Myka gaped at the young woman, exasperated. "I only did that once! It was a Saturday!"

"Yeah, and Artie about blew a gasket when no one would take you seriously because, as that farmer said, 'no respectable agent would be in the field wearing that.'" Claudia's fingers formed banana quotes as she repeated the offending words.

Myka grinned, eyes twinkling as she shook her head. "Just get out of here, before Artie isn't the only one blowing gaskets!"

Claudia waved the comment away. "Pfft. As if you could complete." She began walking back to her room as she continued, "He's, like, the world-renowned gasket-blower."

Myka snorted as she closed the door, grabbing the sticky note and brushing her unruly hair from her eyes. All humor bled from the moment as she gazed down at the elegant cursive hand:

Agent Bering,

I realize my departure was somewhat unruly, but I feared – and still do – Arthur taking rash action against me. You would do me a great honor by meeting me in the alley behind the postal service between 9 and 10am to discuss the implications of recent events.

Ever at your mercy,

Helena G. Wells

Myka crumpled the note in her hand and dropped it in the trash next to her dresser. Mercy? That was most definitely not on the list of things she wanted to give Helena Wells. Not only had her actions turned Artie into an irrational jumpy man, they had inspired fear in the heart of Claudia, whose dreams had (for the past few nights) been fraught with nightmares of Wells stealing Artie from their lives.

Sure she would meet Helena. Fine. But, Myka thought as she gripped her towel, it will be my turn to do most the talking.

This would be the first time she'd see Agent Bering since their encounter in the warehouse. Helena kicked a small rock around the alley with the tip of her boot, crinkling her nose as she caught the smell of garbage from a shift in the wind.

She didn't have to wait long. "Wells," She heard, and looked up. Myka Bering was walking toward her with a look to kill on her face, and in three strides the agent's hand connected solidly with the older woman's face.

Stunned, Helena lightly touched her cheek where it stung, mouth in a silent 'oh.'

"And don't think that just because I'm a secret service agent, I won't slap you again. You betrayed me, used my kindness to get inside my head, and went behind my back to get what you wanted out of a complex situation."

Helena wiped the edge of her mouth, checking for blood. "I've no doubt you'd slap me again," she replied with sarcasm, "We are ever women, before anything else."

"You told me you just wanted to get your things and leave, Wells, not some cock-and-bull act of retribution"

"I did exactly as I said I would," Helena defended, jamming her hands into the pockets of the leather jacket she was wearing.

"You killed Macpherson, Wells, I'd say that was a pretty big detail to just forget."

Helena's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the infuriated other. "I didn't forget, Agent Bering, I improvised based upon how the situation needed to be handled."

"And the situation called for killing?"

"Macpherson was an evil man bent upon bringing about the end of the world, and you and your petty agent friends let him escape not once, but twice. I couldn't risk him escaping again."

Myka moved within inches of Helena's face. "You say he's evil, Wells? You killed him, so what does that say about you?"

"Nothing." Helena retorted, turning her back from Myka to put space between them. "I haven't changed since we last spoke, Agent Bering; I hold the same sentiments."

"You hold the same sentiments?" Myka's voice rose an octave, her hands open at her sides."So you were planning on killing Macpherson the entire time?"

Helena whipped around, finally roused to anger. "Given his plans to destroy the world, yes! Killing Macpherson has prevented the deaths of huge populations of people and species, if not life as we know it!"

"Bronzing him would have served the same purpose, Wells; you didn't have to kill him!"

Helena paused, grinding her teeth and looking down. "You intended on bronzing him, then?"

"Yes." Myka snapped, "Obviously."

"Then death was a mercy he didn't deserve."

Myka's jaw cracked shut, glaring at Wells. "Killing him wasn't merciful, Wells, it was taking justice into your own hands! And it harmed more people than just Macpherson."

"Warehouse justice is slow, convoluted, and overwhelmed with credulity."

"And who are you to pass that sort of judgment? And for your information, I have never seen Artie more upset in the entire time I've worked here. He's after your skin, and I'm this close -" Myka held her pointer finger and thumb barely apart, "—to handing you over to him. Do you understand that, Wells?"

"This conversation is concluded, Agent Bering." Helena turned to go, but was stopped by Myka's hand on her shoulder. She stiffened; if there was the one thing she didn't want to do, it was turn this into a confrontation. Myka hadn't even given her a chance to talk about what the entire meeting was for.

"No, Wells, answer me; what possibly could have happened to make you the sole… the sole…" Myka struggled for the right words, "Bolverkr* for the warehouse?"

Helena began moving towards end of the alley. "I don't work evil for the warehouse, Myka, and while comparing me to a God is flattering, it certainly isn't accurate."

Myka threw up her hands, sarcasm lacing her tone. "Okay, alright: tell me what you are, then. Enlighten me, Miss Wells, victim of so many injustices.

"Merely someone intimately familiar with the short-comings of the warehouse."

"Yeah?" Myka spat, "Are they shortcomings because they're legitimate issues, or are they shortcomings because they're inconvenient for you?" With the last word, her finger dug harshly into the other woman's chest.

Helena coldly removed the hand from her chest, stepping back a few paces and staring steadily at Myka with a chilling lack of emotion. "As I said, Miss Bering, this conversation is over."

"Yeah, maybe today it is. But the next time I see you, it will be down the barrel of a gun on terms much less agreeable. There will be no more 'honorable meetings' between us."

Helena's face fell then, and Myka almost regretted her words. She bit back an apology, not wanting to go back on her word, clamping her tongue so hard she almost drew blood.

"Myka Bering." The time-traveler said, and it was so softly Myka almost didn't catch it. "I have a certain fondness for you." She paused, not meeting the taller woman's eyes. "This is not the direction I intended our relationship to go."

And before Myka could reply, Helena turned and speed-walked down the alley, boots clacking in time with her swift step.

*Bolverkr is another name for Odin, specifically meaning 'evil-worker' or 'the doer of evil deeds.'

Critique appreciated!