A/N: Decided to add to the first part of this after this weeks ep, and all the great feedback on this piece :) Thanks so much to everyone who left such enthusiastic comments! Really great to see more fans of Myka and HG out there! So this is just more of Myka's musings about HG Wells after 2:07. Nothing really graphically femslash (at this stage) so don't get too excited. Just pointless rambling really, but enjoy!

Chapter 2

Standing alone in the Warehouse, staring down at the small piece of paper trembling in her hands, Myka feels more alone than she has in a long time. The oppressive weight of solitude is crushing her. But more than loneliness, she feels something like abandoned. She feels, almost, betrayed. She thinks to herself that there is nothing HG Wells could have done that would have affected her more deeply- than disappearing like that.

The reunion had begun as anticipated- at gunpoint. That was the part Myka had always envisioned clearly. But what followed had been totally unexpected.

That HG vanished again, slipped through her fingers, Myka does not find altogether too surprising. Frustrating perhaps, but not surprising. What startles her, almost horrifies her, is that she misses the other woman's presence.

On the one hand she is sorry to see the back of HG Wells. Damn sorry. But on the other hand, she can't help being a little pleased that HG is free. She knows Artie and the regents would not relent. They must have had one hell of a reason for bronzing her in the first place. Something HG can't simply talk herself out of. And if anyone could talk themselves out of anything- it's HG Wells.

Myka shakes her head, trying to dislodge thoughts of HG Wells. She was being cleverly manipulated, she reminded herself. If there was one thing HG Wells knew how to do it was manipulate people. Perhaps that's why HG had approached her- sensing that she was an easy target, a push over. Myka reminds herself whose side she is on. Reminds herself where her loyalties lie. Because for a moment, she had entirely forgotten.

At home, laughing with Claudia as Artie lectured them, Myka had felt at home. Felt like things were made right, like she knew where she belonged in the world, like she was safe. But after the others had left, her thoughts turned instantly to HG Wells. The story had resonated within her- the feeling of being disconnected, of longing to be part of something again. To be part of the warehouse again.

As she listened to the other woman tell the story about her daughter, as she saw the grief and pain mingled in her eyes, it occurred to Myka that HG Wells was not that much better off than when she had been bronzed. The people she loved are gone. The times she knew are gone. Everything is foreign to her.

Myka was amazed the way HG Wells was able to turn the tables so completely and make Myka feel like the criminal. Myka won't easily forget the look of righteous anger in HG Wells eyes when Myka had asked what she had taken from the Escher vault. Myka realised in that moment, that HG merely took back what was hers- her life, her possessions. It was the warehouse that had stolen from her, not the other way around.

Myka doesn't quite believe HG Wells is an innocent victim. She wants to believe her, and that's almost the same thing. She wants it badly. She doesn't know why it is so important to her to believe in the other woman. But it is. And HG was right. Myka did believe in her, just a little, right from the beginning. Or she never would have let her get away. She never would have given up talking to Artie about it. She wanted this, she admits it. She wanted HG Wells to have a chance. To be free. To prove herself innocent.

Myka admits she enjoyed working with HG Wells. She is intelligent. Creative. Passionate. She hasn't lost her touch in those long lonely years of imprisonment. HG Wells is damn impressive in the field. Saved Claudia's life, as well as Myka's. And despite Myka's protests about the old fashioned equipment, she was affected. Perhaps it was the adrenalin- but as HG pulled her close, Myka's heart was racing. Her hands trembling uncontrollably. Her breath stolen from her. That moment in time Myka felt truly alive for the first time in a long long time. And she tells herself, HG felt it too. She must have- that's why she left the gift behind.

Myka finds herself closing her eyes, and longing for HG Wells to sneak up behind her. She would feign surprise, perhaps anger, even horror. For that's how they played the game-as enemies. But HG would see through it- would just know Myka was pleased to see her.

Myka misses HG Wells, misses the conversations, the interactions. Myka feels like they are on the same wavelength- something she just never felt with Pete, with Claudia, much as she adored them. She always felt the odd one out. Like she never quite understood their jokes, like they were always looking at her as if she ought to lighten up a little. HG never looked at her like that.

She misses the way HG would stand so close to her, unnecessarily and tantalisingly close, and yet it didn't feel uncomfortable in the least. She misses that smug smile, the seductive accent, the way that voice could make you believe in anything even against all your common sense. She misses the way HG looked to her, with respect. With understanding. There isn't anyone who looks at her like that. And in spite of everything, Myka admits the feeling is mutual. She respects the other woman deeply. She admires her. And it's not possible for her to walk away from the thing HG has to offer her.

As she walks alone back to the B&B, she dreams about turning around, catching a glimpse of HG Wells shimmering, like an illusion, in the moonlight. She knows it's all in her head. A fantasy. That even if HG Wells felt the same way about her, nothing could ever come of it. But she allows herself to imagine working together, side by side. Things may have changed in a hundred years, but Myka knows HG still has a thing or two to teach her. She thinks she could teach HG, too. She thinks they would make an unstoppable team.

So caught up is she in the insanity of her desires, that she fails to see the other woman, standing still in the distance, watching her every move.