Belief & Betrayal Chapter 12

[grumpybear1031]

+ Title: Belief & Betrayal
+ Authors: grumpybear1031  and shaych_03 
+ Fandom: Warehouse 13
+ Pairing: H.G./Myka
+ Notes: Ladies lovin’ ladies ahead… and angst, and action, and well, just read it – we promise you a happy ending. Takes place where 2X12 Reset leaves off, possible spoilers for both seasons. Some liberties taken with certain events, as we don't have actual dates for H.G.'s bronzing etc...  We are finally finished and doing a second round of edits...whooo hooo.
+ Rating: We'll play it safe and say R throughout NC-17 Chapters will be clearly marked.
+ Disclaimer: Warehouse 13 and it's characters belongs to Syfy. We're just borrowing them for a while and promise to give them back.
Thanks to taterc  for help with a quick beta.

Author's Note: Shay, I hope you can forgive me for dragging you into this mess. My obsession with H.G. Wells blinded me, and a need to correct the total mess that was “Reset” kind of made me crazy. I'm not much of a writer so your help in getting this from inside my head to down on paper is very much appreciated. I'd also like to say a big thanks todarandkerry  for being an amazing beta. Your suggestions and punctuation help are invaluable.

Author's Note: Jen, you may have dragged me into watching Warehouse 13 kicking and screaming, but I've had more fun working on this story with you than I have in a long time. Your ideas are great; you have a natural ability to kick start my muse and keep her chugging along happily. Should I even bother to mention how good you are at calling me on BS characterizations or reinterpreting the sometimes cornball melodrama that my muse creates? Anyway, I'm glad you got me into this. I would also like to add my thanks todarandkerry , for her spot on beta skills. I hope we didn't kill you with all the missing commas.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 2  CHAPTER 3 & 4  CHAPTER 5  CHAPTER 6  CHAPTER 7  CHAPTER 8  CHAPTER 9  CHAPTER 10  CHAPTER 11


CHAPTER 12

Throughout the day, Helena's mood darkened. Each time she glanced over at Myka, she was reminded of the way she'd hurt the other woman. She'd left a very impressive shiner on Myka's cheek, and the angry red line of the cut only seemed to grow redder and angrier as the day wore to its end. Even the memory of the sweet kisses they'd shared earlier couldn't alleviate her guilt.

Retreating into silence, Helena pulled inward, barely answering Myka's queries with much more than a single word or grunt until sometime around four in the afternoon, when she drifted off, almost gratefully falling into Morpheus' arms.

On the other side of the car, Myka fretted. Her thoughts turned circles within circles over the puzzle of Helena and how ,why, and when she had become such a danger. With no easy access to her usual support network, Myka felt like she was running in all directions, unable to pick just one avenue to investigate. It didn't help that her emotions were playing merry havoc with her thought processes, causing even the most logical of ideas to morph into fantasy-filled dreams of lust and romance.

She hadn't noticed Helena's ill mood until it was too late. By the time Myka realized that the other woman was brooding, H.G. had fallen asleep. Good going there, girl. You're doing a bang-up job of supporting your partner in this, aren't you? In the absence of Pete, Myka had come to think of Helena as a kind of stand-in partner as they had deconstructed the events of the last several days. I still think it's utterly adorable how concerned she was over whether or not she'd set up a scholarship for Gabrielle Tilson. After promising Helena that they would look into it, Myka had then asked, "Why would you think you'd done such a thing, anyway?" This had led to Helena confessing that she'd had moments of lucidity - periods where she had awakened in strange places, or found herself staring at a plate of food she hadn't remembered ordering. It seemed that the Pearl only exerted itself when it was necessary.

Startled by Helena's admissions, Myka had then asked, "So why didn't you call m-us? We were all certain you were evil. If you'd have called during one of these lucid periods, maybe we could have figured out what was wrong."

Blankly, Helena had stared at Myka and then, had shaken her head and said, "You know, I don't think it really occurred to me that anything was wrong. I'm quite certain that I felt that the job was done and that we had all returned home for some well deserved rest. I thought everything was perfectly normal."

The more she thought about it, the more Myka became convinced that the Pearl of Wisdom was one of the most dangerous artifacts with which she'd ever dealt, and when this situation was over, she would have to give careful deliberation to her rash decision to leave. Now that she was almost certain that her own judgment had not been compromised, after all; she knew that her talents were sorely needed by Warehouse 13.

Another hour passed and traffic began to increase as she neared civilization. Every time a patrol car whizzed by, Myka prayed that they weren't looking for her; that Artie hadn't issued an APB for the van's plates. As grateful as she'd been to Gladys, she knew that once Pete had gotten an opportunity to show his credentials, the charade would be up, and what little information the kindly waitress had gathered about them would be willingly shared. We'll have to ditch the van soon. We can use taxis once we're in Chicago, and if we have to leave, we can always get another car from a used car dealer.

As afternoon settled into dusk, Helena stirred, stretched and then said, "Have we reached our destination?"

Myka grinned and said, "Is that your very polite way of asking, 'are we there yet'?"

Perplexed, but very amused by the child-like inflection Myka had placed on the latter portion of her query, Helena raised an eyebrow and replied, "Well, I don't know that I sounded so completely impatient, but yes, I am curious to know if we are stopping soon. I simply must find a WC."

"Awww, do you gotta go to da bafroom?" Myka said teasingly.

Startled, and now quite concerned, Helena sat forward and gave Myka a good, long look. After a moment, she said, "While I do not believe the blow you sustained was sufficient to addle your wits, I'm concerned that I may have dislodged a tooth. Are you quite all right?"

Unable to hide her mirth, Myka burst out laughing. "I'm fine, Helena. I guess there's a bit of a generation gap showing right now." As she launched into a lecture about modern car culture, including references to families going on longer and longer vacations that led to their children demanding frequent bathroom breaks and updates on destination ETAs, Myka found herself wondering if she and Helena would always have to cross such a cultural divide.

Helena, on the other hand, was fascinated. Since MacPherson had released her, she'd done as much studying on the modern world as she could, but there was only so much information she could absorb before she'd needed to just get out and experience it. After that, it had been easier to let her past recede as new memories and new skills quickly took the place of the old. Some things, such as learning to use a cell phone or a microwave, had come naturally; others, such as driving, had taken work, but had been worth the effort. The one area where she had failed to excel had been the computer - modern machines were simply far too complex for her to be considered anything other than a novice user.

They were still discussing the relative merits of car travel versus horse and buggy when they passed a sign stating that they were nearing the turn off for Wells, Minnesota. A quarter of a mile later, there was a second sign advertising a local campground.

Myka glanced over at Helena and said, "Shall we stay over in your town?"

A glib reply was at the tip of Helena's tongue, but as Myka had moved, her hair had flipped away from her face, revealing that the bruising had spread and now engulfed her cheek, a portion of her jaw, and most of the area under her eye. Self-loathing hit Helena like a bucket of manure, spoiling the good mood she'd been enjoying. Shrugging halfheartedly, she said, "If you think it's wise."

"I do. You may be the one who has to use the restroom, but I'm starving." Myka grinned and jokingly chanted, “I'm hungry, I'm hungry, feed me or I'm gonna starve to death.” Laughing, she said, “If my parents had a nickel for every time I made them stop and get me something to eat while we were on vacation, they'd be millionaires.” Out of the corner of her eye, Myka watched as Helena seemed to slide back into her black mood. “Hey, are you ready to grill hot dogs on a stick, make s'mores, and suck down all the lemonade you can drink?” When no answer was forthcoming, she reached out and cupped her hand over the back of Helena's neck. “C'mon, it'll be fun. I promise not to hoard all the chocolate.”

Slowly, Helena responded to the coaxing tone of Myka's words as well as the light, gentle scratching on the nape of her neck. Making an effort, she said, “While I am relatively certain I know what two of those are, I've no idea what a s'more is. Enlighten me?"

"Pure, unadulterated heaven. And probably terribly bad for us, but it's a traditional camping out food." Myka took a second to glance over at Helena and grinned. "You should feel honored, since I'm going to eat refined sugar for your benefit." Thoughtfully, Myka added, "I seem to be capable of doing a lot of things I don't normally do, for your benefit. I wonder why?" She grinned and teasingly tugged on H.G.'s ear, causing Helena to duck her head and blush.

Gathering her dignity around her like a cloak, Helena straightened, shaking off Myka's teasing fingers and assumed a regal air. "I don't know. Perhaps it is because you have fallen prey to the notorious charms of H.G. Wells. I am given to understand that they are somewhat legendary."

"Oh really?” Myka's eyebrows rose dramatically. “Just how legendary are we talking? I mean, am I going to have to check your bedpost for notches?"

"Of course not. That would be crude," retorted Helena. She smiled slyly. "Besides, I've always preferred simpler, less destructive means of keeping tallies. How about you? I'm sure you've had your fair share of suitors."

The teasing statement drew Myka up short. What am I doing? Who am I to even think I could measure up to anyone who's shared H.G. Wells' bed? I mean, this is the mind behind some of the greatest novels of all time! All the warmth of the last few minutes vanished under a cold hail of nerves. Feeling slightly nauseous, she gave Helena an apprehensive smile and said, "Oh, I don't think you'll need to worry about that. I'm not exactly memorable."

“I find that incredibly hard to believe. Anyone fortunate enough to know the pleasure of your company would surely find the memory of you to be deliciously distracting. I know that I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since the first time we met at gunpoint.”

Though she was flattered by Helena's words, Myka couldn't help but think back on her failures as a lover. Sam... Aloud, she said, "You know, the last person I loved got himself killed because of me."

More than anything, Helena wanted to pursue the question of Myka's feelings. To hope that the other woman could feel something as deep as love for her made Helena giddy. Instead, she tucked the warm sensation away to cherish later and allowed a slow, sensuous smile to cross her lips. "Are you trying to warn me off? Because if you are, I'm afraid it's a bit too late for that." Helena shifted in her seat and carefully reached across to take hold of Myka's hand. Pulling it from it's resting place on Myka's thigh, she drew it toward her, turning it up so that she could brush a delicate kiss across the back. "You'll just have to trust that I can take care of myself."

Myka was so enchanted by the contact that she almost missed the turnoff for Wells.

**

The sun was setting when they finally pulled into their campsite.

Bemused, Helena watched as Myka raced about, unloading several bags and lining them up on a nearby picnic table.

"What is all this stuff? And did you happen to bring along something we could use to dig a latrine?" said Helena as she poked among the bags and boxes.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. Here, take this," replied Myka, holding out a small flashlight. With a confused look, Helena accepted it. Using another flashlight to illuminate a nearby porta-potty, Myka then said, "There's your WC. Watch out for spiders."

After thumbing on the light, Helena gave Myka a rakish grin and said, "Well, this should be interesting." Setting off for the vibrantly blue structure at a jaunty pace, she began to whistle an infectious tune that Myka soon found herself echoing.

While Helena occupied herself with the call of nature, Myka got a propane lantern set up and lit and then started to clean the on-site barbecue pit.

Soon, she had a pile of coals lit. It would be awhile till they were ready, so Myka turned her attention to setting up their sleeping area. Clearing the remaining shopping bags from the back of the van, she located, unboxed and rolled out the air mattress. She was just getting the nozzle of the 12-Volt air compressor fitted into the plug of the bed when Helena returned.

"Well, I can now firmly state that outhouses haven't changed at all,” said Helena with an air of cheerful disgust.

Myka chuckled. "That gross, hmm?"

"It was in need of a good cleansing, yes. Rather reminded me of the jakes in the ancient Bulgarian castle in which I had the extreme misfortune to become trapped inside." Helena's gaze grew unfocused as she was drawn back in time.

"Oh, this I just have to hear. Do go on," said Myka as she waited for the bed to fill.

Helena sighed. "I had gone to retrieve an artifact, of course. The Duke was supposed to be out of town, but returned suddenly, forcing me to act quickly. My choices were quite limited - it was either the jakes or the underside of the portly gentleman's bed. I'm sure you can understand why I chose the airier, though much smellier location."

As Helena described the adventure, Myka found that she could easily picture a younger H.G. clinging to the side of a castle, grimly determined to hang on until the duke had gone away.

"Did you ever get the artifact?"

"Of course - it was a simple thing really, but oh, so troublesome. A razor belonging to a chap named Sweeny Todd, if you know the legend?"

"The demon barber of Fleet street," said Myka. "I'm constantly amazed at how many so-called legends have an artifact that comes from a real event."

Once air mattress was full, Myka capped it off, unplugged the air compressor and turned off the ignition. Grabbing the sleeping bag from the nearby picnic table she made her way to the passenger side of the van and opened the side door. "Here, help me with this."

Handing one end to Helena, who took it with only a slightly amused expression, Myka climbed inside and then reached for the other end of the sleeping bag. Together, they worked to open it out over the mattress.

"There, all the comforts of home." Myka dusted off her hands and grinned in satisfaction.

Eying the extra large sleeping bag, Helena felt a rush of sensation race up her spine. One bed, one set of covers - dare I assume that we are, once again, sleeping together? Desire, only slightly tempered by guilt, warmed in her belly. Dare I let my need for pleasure overtake my quest for justice? She glanced at Myka and was caught by the look of frank appreciation in the other woman's gaze. Do I even have a choice, anymore? I set us on this path; do I have the courage to keep to it? Helena wasn't so certain. Banter, teasing, even head-spinning kisses were one thing, but letting herself feel the emotions that had been locked away for so long would be inviting a vulnerability that Helena wasn't prepared to expose just yet.

"It does appear rather comfortable, though I'm surprised at the presence of only one sleeping bag." She tried to sound nonchalant, but her nervousness caused the statement to come out sounding a bit haughty.

Myka blinked in surprise at the sharp tone to Helena's query. "Well, I could have bought two, but it would have ended up costing almost double this one. Honestly, I didn't think you'd mind. If there's a problem, I can always just cover up with my jacket."

Hastily, Helena rushed in to reassure the other woman. "Oh no, no there won't be a problem. I was just, surprised, is all." She winced at how awkward that sounded. "Oh, bollocks! Can we just forget I said anything and make supper now?"

Warily, Myka withdrew from the van and came around to check the barbecue pit. The coals were just about done. "If you're certain? I mean, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I know it's not a lavish set up by anyone's standards, but I thought it would be better than sleeping on the ground."

Stepping up beside her, Helena reached her good hand out and tangled her fingers with Myka's. "It's fine. I'm an arse." She looked around, taking in the rustic, tree lined pathways, wide, star-filled skyline, and the warm glow of the campfire. "It's beautiful, really."

Myka smiled shyly. "It is kinda nice, huh? I mean, if we weren't fugitives and all, it might be kind of fun, right?"

Helena's answering smile was just as shy. "I can assure you that I have not had this much fun while being on the run in at least a hundred years."

"Sweet talker," Myka whispered as she started to lean closer to Helena.

"It's one of my many, many skills." Drawn in, Helena raised her hand and brushed a stray lock of hair from Myka's face. Hesitant, feeling as though she were touching one of Tesla's coils, Helena allowed her fingers to graze the arch of Myka's eyebrow, and then stroked down to find the shell of her ear.

Myka gasped at the intensity of the touch. Leaning into it, she reached out and hooked her fingers in Helena's belt, drawing her so close, a piece of paper couldn't have passed between them.

They stood like that, perched on the precipice of their desire, until Myka noticed that Helena was trembling.

"Hey," she said, tipping her head forward to lightly rest against the other woman's forhead. "You okay?" They were both breathing heavily.

"I - I don't know. This is - you shouldn't trust me like this, Myka. I'm no good." Churning, turbulent emotions spun like pinwheels through Helena's thoughts. Flashes of memory of Christina, of MacPherson, of the past few days, of everything that Helena had ever done wrong, or had taken from her gathered upon a set of scales, and one side was dangerously tipped against her. Yet even with all that forcing her to a standstill, she simply could not let go of Myka, could not stop stroking the other woman's hair, face, neck, and ear. She was warm; pulsing with the kind of life Helena had only ever dreamed about, and she was right there, in her arms, and eagerly welcoming her touch. It was right, and yet, it was horribly, horribly wrong.

"For someone so incredibly smart, you can be monumentally stupid, Helena." Myka pulled her into an embrace and gently she encouraged Helena to lay her head on her shoulder. Holding her close, she pressed soft kisses against the smooth flesh of her forehead. "We've all done things we aren't proud of, Helena, but this time, someone used you. You aren't the villain here – you're just human, like anyone else.”

"You wouldn't say that if you knew some of the things I've done, Myka. Terrible things; there was a time when I was quite mad, you know, and I'm not altogether certain if that madness has entirely left me." She tried to find the strength to reject the comfort Myka offered, but Helena could only sink further into the loving embrace. Even as tears gathered in her eyes, even as her throat burned with the words that would reveal her deepest shame, she fought. I cannot. It is my burden to bear. I will not expose her to the nature of my crimes. Not here. Not like this.

“I know what you did, Helena. Elizabeth Arnold left a diary.”

Startled, Helena tried to shift away from Myka. “No.” Elizabeth had been one of the few agents she'd let get close to her while she'd been at Warehouse 12. She was also the only one privy to the details of Christina's murder. How many nights did you hold me and keep my demons at bay, Elizabeth? How many times did you save me, before you were consumed by my grief? I loved you, but never the way you wanted. That's why you died. I never saw Robin's Arrow fly, but you did, and you pushed me away even though I was not supposed to be in that section of the warehouse. If only I hadn't mentioned finding a reference to Orpheus' Lyre. You never did understand that I couldn't give up – that finding my way back to Christina was all that mattered. Ah, Elizabeth, I am sorry. Truly, I am. How you must have hated me, to leave behind a record of my confession.

Afraid now of how that knowledge would change Myka's opinion of her, Helena continued to fight Myka's embrace. “Please tell me that she did not reveal all my sins. I couldn't bear it if you knew how black the stain on my soul truly is!”

Myka refused to let her go. “She was very honest in her opinions of you and what you did to those men.” Myka had found the diary in a dusty box hidden deep in the back of the archives of Warehouse 12. Agent Arnold's descriptions had been dry, factual reports that had left nothing out – pages of details regarding the dozens of injuries suffered by the six men who had murdered Christina Wells. Put together, it created a picture of terrible brutality. When Myka had first encountered it, she'd been horrified, but Agent Arnold's diary also contained a horrific account of the rape and torture of Sophie, the brave housekeeper who'd tried to save Christina's life. There had been one further revelation, one that had, at the time, given Myka great pause. Elizabeth Arnold had been deeply, unabashedly in love with H.G. Wells. Even though there were very few entries in the diary that dealt with Agent Arnold's life outside of the warehouse, she had included several mentions of evenings spent at Helena's London flat. Myka had read between the lines and understood the depth of emotion Elizabeth had felt for Helena, and she'd also finally begun to comprehend just what it was she herself was experiencing. It had been an epiphany, on many levels. And it was probably one of the reasons why I felt so betrayed in Egypt.

"I can't say that I wouldn't have done something similar, if someone had hurt the people I cared about. Those men were animals and deserved to be put down like rabid dogs."

On a ragged breath, Helena whispered, "I lost her twice. No matter how hard I fought, she slipped right through my fingers. I couldn't save her. Every night for weeks afterward, I closed my eyes and watched her die over and over again, and I couldn't do anything to stop it." She pulled away from Myka and looked up, her eyes glinting diamond hard in the lantern light. "They had to die for what they did - that was certain. But I needed to make them suffer; make them feel all the pain Christina and I did. In the end, I even failed there, because they all died long before their torments were supposed to end."

Listening as Helena spoke, Myka felt a further understanding blossom; an awful insight that led her to whisper, "You used the time machine to go back to that day, didn't you? You were Sophie. You had to live through all of that – you were the one they violated." She knew she was right without Helena even having to respond.

"I had to go; I had to try. She was my daughter; my little girl - my angel. I had to save her, and I failed!" Helena covered her face as sobs wracked her body. Collapsing, she barely felt Myka's strong arms encircle her, catching her and drawing her close, holding her up as she wept for all that she had lost.

It was in this moment that Myka realized that she had slipped beyond the boundaries of attraction and into the realm of love. For even as Helena became a thing of frightful beauty, she loved her, she wanted her, and she needed to touch the icy heart of the woman who felt so close, and yet, so far away.

Tenderly, Myka held on to Helena, cradling her close until, eventually, her tears dried. Only then did she urge the distraught woman to go and rest until dinner was ready. While the hotdogs cooked, she took the opportunity to activate her new cell and sent a single, simple instant message to Claudia.

TBC