Disclaimer: I still don't own any part of Warehouse 13 and honestly, I really don't want to. It's much more fun to play with the toys and put them back to play with later.

A/N: Thanks to all comments and reviews. Always appreciated and considered. Keep crying, keep laughing. Without one, you can't have the other.

"So did you get it yet?" Pete asked climbing the ladder.

"Did I get what, yet? Hand me a glove will you?"

"Oh, come on, Myka. The ring!"

She smiled like a teenager on her first date. "What's it to you, Lattimer?"

"What's it to me? I was there with you in the antique store. That's what it is." He shook his finger at her. "Ah, ah, ah…you did!" Still pointing his finger at her he jumped down the ladder, sitting on the lower tread. "I knew it. Which one did you get?"

"You'll laugh."

"No, Mykes I won't laugh, unless it was a Mickey Mouse ring or something, but maybe she has a thing for Mickey Mouse..."

"I got the diamond."

"Wow! Mykes that's big."

"Not for the reason you think." She jumped in quickly. "It's the birthstone for April."

"Huh?"

"That's the day we met in London, Pete. April, 23. Kind of the birth of us, in a really twisted, ass backwards, sort of way."

"Really, was it April?"

"Pete!"

"No, no. I think that's really cool." He had his big, goofy grin plastered on his face. "Do you have it yet? It needed to be resized, right? And she has totally no clue, right?"

"I picked it up yesterday. I don't think she knows. She didn't ask for one when she gave me hers, but still, I've want to for a while. I just never took the initiative since she first mentioned it. So much has happened since then."

"She knows. She just doesn't need the ring. That's great, Myka." He got up and hugged her. "I'm really happy for you. I know how you feel about the wedding thing, but like you said, you might change your mind. I don't know, maybe this is somehow more special for you guys. When are you going to give it to her?" He was nearly bouncing on his feet.

"I don't know…"

"Hey, let's get this done so we can figure it out. I can't wait to see it. Hand me that tire. A tire…never stops being weird here."

They'd been down in the deeper parts of the warehouse when Myka stopped short.

"Hey, Mykes, come on. We need to finish this up. We're almost done."

"Pete, I've got to go. Don't ask. I don't know. I just need to go home." Myka turned and trotted down the aisle without another word.

Myka walked into the dim house to find Helena on the sofa listening to the stereo. She picked up the CD. "Okay. Bruckner Symphony 9. Hmm…3rd movement…what's up?"

"I'm being sent out tomorrow," Helena said flatly.

Myka swallowed her dread and sat on the sofa, reaching out to caress the blank face. "Well, it was going to happen sooner or later. At least you've gotten some good snags here and the ankle is holding up well."

"I'm never going to be free am I?" A tear finally broke.

"Honey, I think it's a matter of mind set. Don't allow them to make you feel powerless against them. They don't own you. You just think they do." She wiped the tears from her eyes as they fell down the sides of her face.

"You really don't understand, Myka and I can't explain it to you. How many times can I tell you I have no say in any of this and I never have? I never will. I don't want to go." She sat up clutching Myka to her. "When are we going to have that child we keep avoiding? I don't want to avoid it anymore."

Myka took a deep breath reaching inward for all of her strength. "Come on, Champ. Let's go upstairs. We can talk up there or not. Are you packed?"

"No."

"Well, let's start with that."

Helena pulled out her small bag placing things in the bag as Myka handed them to her. As always, the UCCS sweatshirt went in last. When she wasn't looking, Myka snuck in her copy of The Little Prince. Helena threw it to the top of the stairs to wait for her early departure before turning around to sit on the bed.

"How did you get out without Artie stopping you?"

Myka was leaning against the small balcony wall by the stairs, arms crossed.

"I didn't ask. I just left Pete in an aisle somewhere. When did you get the call?"

"Long enough to get to the 3rd movement." Myka sat on the bed next to her in silence. Leaning her head on Myka's shoulder, Helena reached her hand across to caress the face that leaned back against her head. "It's not like we haven't done this before," she reminded the younger woman. "We've just been spoiled having all this time together. I'd think you'd be tired of me by now."

"Never." Myka backed up the bed pulling Helena with her, settling her between her knees. She opened the drawer of the night stand, grabbing a box. "This wasn't how I wanted to do this, but then I didn't exactly have any plan yet. I want you to have it now, before you leave." She reached around placing the box in Helena's hands.

Helena turned and looked at her questioning, but knowing. She slowly opened the box. Myka reached around again taking out the ring, placing it on the slender finger of the hand she held. "Don't make too much out of the stone. It's the why. The day we met. April 23. It's the birthstone. The birth of us."

Helena turned around looking in the soft eyes. Gently she kissed Myka. "Thank you. This means more than anything." She leaned back against Myka wrapping the long arms around her. "I wish we had more time. I always want more time. Even just to sit against you. You have completely corrupted me. You've made me soft, Myka Bering, and I love that."

Myka hugged her back. Pulling the long, dark hair aside, she nibbled at the back of her neck, softening each increasingly harder nip with a soft kiss, and nuzzling her nose into her hair, memorizing the scent.

Helena forced a rough breath out bending her head forward. "Why do you do this to me?"

Myka licked the edge of the exposed ear whispering, "Because, I really, really like doing it and you really, really like that I do. You didn't think you were just going to walk out of here tomorrow, did you?"

Helena rolled around in Myka's arms pushing herself on her knees. She took Myka's face in her hands gazing into the darkening, green eyes, smiling. "I certainly hope not." Kissing her softly, delicate, strong hands made quick work of Myka's clothing before discarding her own. "Myka, I'm in no hurry. I want to memorize every inch of you; every sensation, every flavor, and every scent. I want to see every freckle, scar and bruise on your skin. I'm on a quest tonight. Take that journey with me?"

Myka wrapped herself around the woman. "I'll join you on any journey you ask me to take."

Helena was awake and dressed before dawn. She didn't want to wake Myka, but also knew she was feigning sleep for her benefit. Ordinarily, she'd be accused of staring. She missed those few words this morning. She placed the locket over Myka's neck as best she could. Leaning over, she kissed her forehead gently. "Keep it safe. I'll be home soon." With one last look she picked up the bag by the stairs, quietly latching the door behind her.

Myka rolled onto her back, grasping the locket as the tears fell randomly, to stare at the ceiling until the light of dawn cast its glow in the bedroom.

Artie stood up quickly from the table, croissant in hand. "Mrs. Frederic. What are you doing here?" Looking at his hand he dropped the croissant on the plate.

"Since when do I need a reason, Arthur?"

Pete stammered as usual, "Ah, since that's the only time you ever sneak up, I mean show up here?"

"Actually, I'm here to see Agent Bering."

Claudia dropped her coffee, the cup shattering on the floor, breaking the silence. Ignoring the mess, she stared at the woman, whispering, "HG?" Steve placed a hand on her arm.

"Agent Bering, please, in the office."

Myka had walked in as Claudia dropped her coffee.

"Agent Bering, what?" she asked the stolid woman.

"Perhaps we should go to the office…"

"No. What's wrong? Where is she?" Myka demanded. "Something's been off."

Looking around at the faces staring at her, Helena's family she realized, she acquiesced.

"Agent Wells did not make her last two appointed check in points and has been declared missing in action. I'm sorry, Myka; everyone. We don't know what happened. All attempts to find her have come up empty. Due to the nature of this particular assignment it is very likely…likely that she is dead."

"I knew something was off. It's been off for over two weeks." Anger immediately overwhelmed her. "Wait a minute, all this time, for all these special little jobs, the Regents had set check in points and no one thought to include me in on that? She's been gone for six weeks!"

"It was not only for her safety, but yours as well. You of all people should understand that. ALL of you. Myka, I am truly sorry. If there is anything I can do..."

"Anything you can do?" she yelled at the woman. "Tell the Regents to go to Hell. They do not OWN HER!" She enunciated every word in the woman's face. Myka's voice dropped, menacingly cold. "Not anymore. She's missing and they need to find her. They owe her that. She is out there. She is not dead." Without another sound, Myka walked out, the door slamming behind her.

He knew he'd find her here. She always came here to the maple in the center of the garden. They always came here. Even after the cottage was built, they still came here. Always. He knew he'd never understand, but that didn't matter.

Pete came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, for the first time in years not knowing what to do or say.

She stared at the ring on her finger. "She's out there, Pete. I know it. I can feel her. I'm going to find her."

"The freak thing?" Pete asked quietly.

She'd stopped crying now, a quiet anger replacing the tears, now clutching the locket as she'd seen Helena do so many times before. "Yeah, the freak thing. Regents be damned. The Regents no longer rule over me and they do not own her. Caturanga taught her, 'If the rules don't agree with one, it's sometimes necessary to change them'. That's what I'm doing, Pete. That's how she saved my life and that's how I'm going to save hers. I'm changing the rules."

A/N: Anton Bruckner died in 1896 leaving his ninth symphony incomplete with only three movements, and manuscripts for the fourth. It is said that Bruckner referred to the third movement as his "Farewell to Life". Coming from one who has personally performed this work more than once, in a key position to the work, one certainly does get the sense he knew he was dying. Listen to it and decide for yourself. It is well worth the time.