Belief & Betrayal Chapter 13

[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.

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CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 2  CHAPTER 3 & 4  CHAPTER 5  CHAPTER 6  CHAPTER 7  CHAPTER 8  CHAPTER 9  CHAPTER 10  CHAPTER 11  CHAPTER 12



CHAPTER 13

It could be considered very anti-climactic, Claudia supposed sullenly as she glared down at the sight of a small, silvery pearl nestled in a bed of silk.

"Well, that's awkward," she murmured.

"Interesting," was all Mrs. Fredric said.

"You don't suppose there's more than one, do you?" At this point, hope was all Claudia had to cling to because she wanted so much to believe in Myka's innocence. Oh just be honest with yourself – you want H.G. to be a good guy because she's cool and Myka likes her.

"I have never heard of more than one Pearl." Mrs. Fredric grew thoughtful as she examined the gem. Something about it perplexed her, and the more she looked at the gem, the more she realized that there was something not quite right about it. So much of what she suspected greatly disturbed her, and even though her suspicion was built on thin threads of evidence, the ramifications would be dire. To have something concrete would be both a relief and cause for alarm.

"Miss Donovan, would you try putting the pearl into a containment bag."

"Okie dokie." Shaking open one of the self-sealing foil bags, Claudia removed the pearl from its cushion. "Here goes nothing," she said as she turned her head to the right, squinted, and let go. There was a soft thunk as the gem came into contact with the bag, but nothing else happened. Neither the bright flash of light nor the crackle of energy she had come to associate with the containment of an artifact had occurred.

Mrs. Fredric quickly pushed aside any surprise she might have felt and nodded slowly. "As I suspected. It is a fake. Come along, Miss Donovan. There is much to be done, yet." She spun on her heel and headed back for the office, leaving Claudia literally holding the bag.

Feeling a wave of relieved excitement crash over her, Claudia just about dropped everything and raced to follow the caretaker, but suddenly, she stopped, turned back and quickly checked the display next to the artifact's resting place. "Curiouser and curiouser," she muttered as only the log in date was available. To all appearances, the Pearl of Wisdom had never left the warehouse. When Claudia caught up to Mrs. Fredric, she relayed what she'd discovered.

A warm rush of pride ran through Mrs. Fredric, and some of what she felt was reflected in her words. "You continue to show good instincts, Miss Donovan. Your initiative in this matter is noted."

Navigating their way back to the office, they immediately headed over to the computer terminals with Mrs. Frederic leading the way. The Warehouse caretaker quickly took a seat and began inputting several commands.

"What are you doing?"

"I am attempting to discern when the Pearl was removed from the Warehouse. Because Leena was so terribly damaged by its effects, I logged in the artifact myself. We can assume that someone removed it some time after that.”

"I see," said Claudia distractedly as she watched the older woman hunt-and-peck her way through the various databases. Though she itched to be able to push her way in and take over, she knew better than to try. Instead, she grabbed another chair and opened her laptop, intending to start on the video footage from the highway cameras. What greeted her though was an instant message window containing only a ten digit number. Quickly, she closed the lid, but she wasn't fast enough.

Without looking away from her own screen, Mrs. Fredric said, "Have you found something?"

"Um, no, not really. It's just some spam, probably,” replied Claudia with feigned nonchalance. She actually had a pretty good idea that anyone who knew the particular screen name to which the message had been addressed was someone she'd friended. Given the situation they were facing, Claudia was willing to lay some pretty good odds that the text had come from Myka.

Turning away from her work, Mrs. Fredric just gave Claudia a long, penetrating look. "I would assume that an advanced user such as yourself would have the proper precautions in place to prevent such unwanted intrusions."

Smiling weakly, Claudia shrugged and said, "Well, you know spam - it's everywhere."

"Miss Donovan, do I look like I was born yesterday?"

Quaking at the stern tone in Mrs. Fredric's voice, Claudia managed to stammer, "N-no, of course not."

"Good. Now, obviously someone has sent you a message. Perhaps it is nothing; perhaps it is a clue. Don't you think it's worth investigating?"

Silently apologizing to Myka, Claudia nodded and said, "Yes, Mrs. F. I'll get right on that."

**

"Listen man, it wouldn't matter if you put me on a caffeine drip. Artie, I'm exhausted. I need sleep. So do you. For crying out loud, you're still recovering from being shot two days ago!"

“And who's to blame for that? It's just more proof of how dangerous H.G. Wells is. Don't you see? We need to stop them before they -” For just a brief moment, an expression of profound pain flashed across Artie's face. “Before they hurt someone else.”

Pete sighed and said, “You know, I get that you're bent about H.G. I can even understand why you're suspicious of Myka's actions, but come on, Artie, do you really think that she'd let H.G. hurt an innocent? No way! Not Myka. Think, Artie – Myka's not MacPherson! Whatever caused her to throw in with H.G., it's not because she's a crazed lunatic bent on destroying the world.”

Wearily, Artie rubbed his face. Grabbing hold of his temper with both hands, he calmly said, “Even if you're right, Pete, and let's, for the moment, pretend that you are – that doesn't excuse the fact that Myka has acted in a way that is contrary to her training. I know you want to believe that your partner hasn't gone to the dark side, but I've had a lot more experience dealing with these things, and believe me, anyone – anyone can be turned.” Softly he added, “Myka's betrayal hurts because we trusted her, but if it helps, I promise you, Myka will get a chance to explain her actions. H.G.'s fate, however, is out of my hands.”

Frowning, Pete said, “This is really getting to you, isn't it?”

Without any leads to follow, Pete and Artie had remained on Interstate 90, hoping that somehow, their path would cross that of Myka and H.G. It was exhausting, time consuming work to stop at nearly every single gas station, get out, and question the attendants. So far, they'd gotten a lot of false positives and one sure lead – a young woman manning the counter at a convenience store remembered selling a package of Twizzlers to a woman matching Myka's description. Other than that, there'd been nothing, and now, it was nearing sunset. Pete was so tired he could barely count to two, and to make matters worse, they'd just passed a sign advertising a Motel 6 five miles ahead.

“No, it's a walk in the park on a sunny afternoon. Of course it's getting to me! Myka was one of the best agents I've ever worked with, and she turned her back on the warehouse. That's why we need to keep going. Put aside things like sleep and force ourselves to work until it's over. You've got to be willing to keep going, even if you're staring down the Grim Reaper. Things like this, this so-called injury?” He indicated the sling cradling his wounded arm. “It's nothing. I'm fine. We'll stop and get some coffee and be as good as new. That's just the way it's done in the warehouse.”

As determined as Artie sounded, Pete could tell that the older man was bluffing. For most of the last two hours, he'd been nodding off, unable to do more than stare bemusedly out of the front window. Contrary to his words, Artie looked like he was hanging on to wakefulness with both hands and all of his teeth. Shaking his head, Pete said, “Artie, come on, would you just act like a real human being for once? I mean, honestly, do you really think Myka and H.G. are going to turn all Terminator and keep going all night?”

Artie grunted. "I would."

"Well, that's you. Myka's not like that. If H.G. is hurt as badly as those guys at the diner said, then Myka's going to do everything she can to help her get better, and that means stopping to rest." The truth of that statement was something that he felt so strongly that it wasn't just a vibe, it was a certainty.

The conviction in Pete's statements must have resonated with Artie, because he sighed and said, "Fine, fine. We'll stop and rest. But we must, we absolutely must leave at dawn."

"Thank you." Pete pulled into the lane that would take them off the highway and into the next tiny town. He didn't even know its name. All he cared about was that it had a motel, a restaurant, and a bed with his name temporarily stamped on the pillow.

**

Slumped in the room's only chair, Artie watched Pete sleep. His own rest would come shortly, but for the moment, he was content to wallow in his own thoughts. So much of the last few days had sped by, and so many events that he had feared would come to pass had come true, leaving him to face the knowledge that he had once again placed his trust in an agent who had, ultimately, betrayed him. Wearily, he wiped his face and then, softly murmured, “So when's it going to be your turn, hmm Pete? Are you going to stab me in the back, too?” No, no, he wouldn't. Pete's a good guy. He just wants to believe the best in people, like you once did. Artie sighed sadly. Even now, I can't help but hope he's right about you, Myka. The warehouse is your home. I know this. I felt this. Then you left because - He had to work hard to push aside his anger at H.G. Wells. Damn it, that woman has ruined everything!

Artie continued to sit, lost in the bitterness of his melancholy until the muffled chiming of his Farnsworth dispelled the mood. Scrambling to his feet, he staggered over to his bag, removed the device and opened it.

"Hello, Agent Nielsen, how are you feeling?" Adwin Kosan, looking as unruffled as ever, peered up at him expectantly.

Taking a deep breath, Artie grimaced and said, "Okay, okay. A little tired. A little sore. But good to go. I assure you, Mr. Kosan, Agent Lattimer and I are doing all that we can to apprehend the fugitives."

"Good, good.” Kosan looked pleased. Leaning closer to his Farnsworth, the regent smiled pleasantly and said, “Why don't you tell me how that's been going for you."

The calm, sympathetic tone was a welcome balm to Artie's ruffled ego. For the first time all day, he began to feel as if someone had finally remembered his importance to the warehouse and how he was the one to whom everyone should look for leadership and guidance. His opinion was the one that counted, damn it! Sitting up straight, he quietly began to detail everything that had happened since he'd been apprised of the situation. If a bit of his irritation at being excluded came through, well then so be it. By the end of the conversation, Artie once again felt like he was in control of the situation.

“I trust you to do what needs to be done, Agent Nielsen.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good hunting, Agent Nielsen.” Kosan signed off, leaving Artie to drag himself to bed for a few, much-needed hours of sleep.

**

"What do you mean, she's not dead? Are you that incompetent that you can't even handle a simple seek and destroy mission? Fine, fine, blame it on me. Next time, if you can't do the job, just say so!" The phone came down with a jangling crash. Anger wreathed like a cloud, filling the room. "Well, I guess if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." Inside a desk drawer was a beautiful, pearl-handled pistol. It would be messier, but it would definitely get the job done.

The smoothness of the grip was very satisfying. Even more pleasant was the simple click, click, click of the bullets as they settled into the magazine. Once loaded, the gun was lovingly slid into a holster and then tucked away. Plans would have to be made; no sense in having things go awry a second time.

On a single piece of vellum, he began writing down everything he would require to carry out his mission. In neat, dark print, several items appeared, each of which was just a single step that would lead to the utter destruction of H.G. Wells. Now all he required was the bait. As he reached the bottom of the page, from another part of the building, a voice called out, “Sir, you need to come see this!”

He sighed. Good help really was terribly difficult to find. Exiting the office, he made his way to a bank of computers. On the screen, two simple words flashed over and over.

"Knock, knock."

"Ask and ye shall receive." He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Call the pilot. Tell him to be ready to leave in half an hour.”

“Yes, sir!” The man jumped up and ran off to do as he'd been told.

“Enjoy your last days, Wells. Your time is over.”

TBC