Belief & Betrayal Chapter 19

[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  CHAPTER 13  CHAPTER 14  CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16  CHAPTER 17  CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

"Yep, this is the right one," Pete said as he confirmed the plate numbers they had for the vehicle H.G. and Myka had purchased in Cottonwood with those of the van parked in the bus depot's long term lot. "Tell Claudia she did it again."

While Artie continued his conversation with Claudia, Pete peered inside the van. Through the heavily tinted windows, he could discern several empty and half-full plastic grocery bags, a cooler, and toward the back, a sleeping bag and air mattress.

Moving around to the front passenger side, he absently played with the handle, yelping in surprise when the door popped open. "Well I'll be damned," he muttered, grinning at the stroke of luck. "Hey, Artie, check it out - they didn't even lock the doors!"

Artie glanced up from the Farnsworth, squinting as he tried to see anything beyond the glare of the setting sun. In the distance, he could see fast approaching rainclouds and knew that by the end of the night, he'd be cold and wet. Pete's revelation didn't do anything to improve his mood. "That's great, Pete. Just great. That means they're gone and not coming back." He grumbled some more and then shouted, "See if you can find something that tells us where they're going!"

Pete sighed and shook his head. Some days, he wondered if Artie really thought only imbeciles and idiots got important jobs like Secret Service agent.

Climbing into the van, he began searching through its contents. There was little to discover - the cooler contained the remnants of a camp cookout style dinner, the bags were filled with mostly trash and a few half-eaten packages of food, including a mostly full box of cereal bars, and the front seat only contained two empty soda fountain cups from a fast food restaurant.

Moving toward the back, he began to wonder just what had happened when he found a blood spattered, lacy white bra discarded on the floor. Glancing around to be sure he wasn't overseen, Pete quickly sniffed the bra. The musky, coppery overtone of blood didn't quite overwhelm the spicier scent of H.G.'s preferred perfume.

Setting aside the garment, he continued his search. The makeshift bed had obviously been slept in, and if the rumpled state of the sleeping bag was any indication, one, or both of the women had been plagued by some terrific nightmares.

"Looks like they didn't get much sleep," he said as Artie joined him.

"Good. If they're tired, they'll make mistakes." He took in the scene and grumbled. "It really tears me up to think that Myka's sleeping with the enemy."

By this point, Pete had unzipped the sleeping bag and what he spotted lying crumpled at the very bottom of the bag made him swallow heavily.

"Um, Artie?" he said as he used a pen to drag a pair of women's cotton panties into view. "Do you think it's possible that..." Trailing off as his hormone fueled brain came up with a picture that seemed wholly unreal, Pete could only stare at Artie.

As Artie began to grasp the implications of Pete's inarticulate commentary, he turned scarlet, and then white. "So now we know why Myka turned on us."

"What? No, come on!" Pete scoffed. "Not Myka! She's not - I mean, she was totally into her high school crush, and that guy was definitely a guy's guy, if you know what I mean." But in the back of his mind, Pete was recalling a conversation he'd recently had, where H.G. had piped in with "I know a thing or two about the opposite sex. Many of my lovers were men." This thought led Pete to wonder if maybe Myka's constant defense of H.G. had been born out of childhood hero worship that had turned into a full-on infatuation when confronted with the incredibly hot reality of the living flesh-and-blood woman behind the dusty old words of, what everyone believed, was a man long dead.

**

The restaurant, Myka and Helena discovered, was only open for breakfast and lunch. Sheepishly, Helena grinned and said, "I guess I didn't notice that part when I was here last. Shall we try again in the morning?"

Myka nodded. "Sure. The menu looks pretty good, actually."

They were standing in front of the entrance to a small, elegant cafe. Just inside the door, they could make out a freestanding chalkboard advertising a variety of interesting dishes.

"Shall we investigate the address Claudia found, then? 'Soonest begun is soonest done' and all that?" Helena leaned in close and added in a soft, teasing whisper, "Though if you'd rather put it off 'til the morning, I won't be disappointed."

Myka turned and leaned against the window of the cafe. Crossing her arms and resting one foot against the wall, she arched one eyebrow expressively and said, "Are you always like this, or is it just me that makes you act like a randy teenager?"

The gently chiding tone to Myka's voice stung Helena deeper than she wanted to admit. Exhaustion and the sudden, sharp pounding in her head merged with the still present sense that she was unworthy of love, forced Helena to icily retort, “I apologize if my petulant desires have caused you any discomfort. I can assure you that it will not happen again."

Spinning on her heel, she limped back to the car and refused to turn around when Myka called her name.

**

"Pete, really, this is nothing. We need to work on locating Myka and H.G., not be wasting time poking around some dirty old dockside warehouse looking for invisible hackers!" hissed Artie as he and Pete edged around the corner of a corrugated tin wall.

"Look, I'm sorry, but Mrs. F said to check it out, so we have to do it. I don't get it, either. All I know is that, supposedly, this is where the computer that hacked into the warehouse financial accounts is located, and I guess she wants us to secure it to gather more evidence against H.G."

Artie frowned darkly. "I wish she'd answer the Farnsworth. Then we could straighten this whole thing out and get back to the important task of apprehending two very dangerous women." When he'd tried to contact Mrs. Fredric to confirm the order, he'd had no luck. It wasn't that he was worried - this wasn't the first time he'd been in a situation where he couldn't contact her right away, but still, it irritated him to have his plans interrupted.

"Well, humor me, Artie. Let's keep looking. You never know what we'll find." Pete glanced around, noting the placement of guards on the roof of the building they were attempting to case. Who puts so many guards on a simple warehouse? What are they storing in there?

**

"Helena, I'm sorry, okay?" Glancing over at the sullen woman beside her, Myka raised her hand and touched Helena's cheek, causing Helena to flinch slightly. "Hey, what's going on, hmm?" Slowly, she ran her fingers through her lover's hair. This time, Helena didn't flinch, but she didn't exactly act as if she enjoyed the touch, either.

Myka sighed. "Is this because I teased you about wanting me?" Helena still didn't reply. Biting her lip, Myka said, "You know, this thing, this great big emotional bomb we have between us that sort of blew up everything and changed how we act - well, it's not like anything I've ever felt before, and sometimes, well, sometimes I kind of feel like it's not real. Like I'm dreaming, and I'm going to wake up one morning and you'll be gone." She smiled sadly. "I mean, I'm not the girl that gets the handsome guy - or in this case - the stunningly beautiful woman - I'm the girl that goes home alone, curls up with her cheap paperback romance and a bottle of wine and dreams of that kind of love."

Throughout her speech, Myka continued to touch Helena, playing with her hair, touching her cheek, even going so far as to place her hand around the back of Helena's neck and flex her fingers in a gentle, massaging motion. When there was still no response, Myka started to pull her hand away but stopped when Helena let out a soft sound of protest.

"Please don't," she whispered. "Don't you know how much I need you? How much I crave your touch, Myka?" She turned to face Myka, her expression both pleading and terrified. "What we have isn't some delightful roll in the hay to me. It isn't boorish, it isn't crass, and it's certainly not the result of a teenager's hormone fueled wet dream." Slowly, she reached up, took Myka's hand and pulled it down to her lap, where she tangled her fingers with Myka's. "After Christina died, I couldn't bear to feel anything but guilt, anger, and grief. Later, once my anger had burned itself out, all that was left was the guilt and the grief. Even whilst I was in the Bronze sector, all that I had were my memories, which ultimately would lead to more guilt and more grief."

She glanced down, hiding the slow trickle of tears that were wetting her cheeks. "Then came MacPherson and his grandiose plans for spreading artifacts all over the world. 'Come with me, my dear,' he said, 'and I'll hunt the ends of the earth to find anything you want.' I think he would have promised to make me a queen if I'd asked, but all that I wanted was to escape my memories. His petty machinations served to get me the things I wanted from the vault, but after that, he was only a mad dog that needed to be put down else he spread his disease to others."

Myka had no idea what Helena was rambling about, but figured it was best to let her keep talking. Something told her that no one had ever let Helena just talk; let her work out the pain and grief and self-doubt that had plagued her since Christina's murder. It was time and past for Helena to feel safe; to feel like she had someone to whom her words meant something other than fodder for a report.

Squeezing her hand tightly, Myka said, "I'm listening."

Helena's eyes closed. Is it fate, destiny, or just plain bad luck that I had to live more than a hundred years before finding someone who could possibly understand me? Behind the thought came a quick, sharp jab of pain which she was only partially successful at ignoring.

"After I killed MacPherson, I spent a lot of time wandering around, seeing the sights, taking in how much the world had changed while I was away, and you know, I almost came back to the warehouse and asked to be re-bronzed? But then one day, here in Chicago, I looked out the window of my hotel, and do you know what I saw?" The tears had ebbed, and now, Helena was smiling, a soft, hopeful expression that was hauntingly sweet.

Myka shook her head. "No. What did you see, Helena?"

Helena's smile broadened and she lifted their joined hands and kissed Myka's fingertips. "You, my dear. I saw you. There you were, walking down the street, like you'd been dropped there by destiny. It was a sign - my moment to understand what I was meant to do with the second chance I'd been given. That's when I realized I had to become an agent again. I had to be near you, because if I could feel so much just by looking at you, then I had to find a reason to be close to you."

"So, is this your way of saying I'm forgiven?" Myka said winsomely.

Helena chuckled and wiped her face. "It's my way of saying that there's nothing to forgive. I love you; I'm in love with you. You, Myka, are going home with the beautiful woman and she is all yours to do with as you please, for as long as you please." Taking up Myka's hand again, she pulled it up and kissed the back of it gently. Another jab of pain skated across her head, and this time, it brought with it a tiny curl of fear. Helena knew very little about the Pearl of Wisdom, but what she did know told her that what she was experiencing would only get worse. Choosing to ignore it once again, Helena whispered, "I am real, my love. You can touch me, and hold me, and if I'm very, very lucky, you can make love to me every day for the rest of our lives."

After that, there really wasn't anything Myka could say, so she chose instead to pull the car over, unbuckle her seat belt, and lean across the seats so she could fiercely kiss the woman she loved.

**

"See? I told you. It was nothing. Just a simple import/export business that didn't take kindly to a couple of secret service agents poking around without a warrant!"

Pete and Artie had been spotted as they'd tried to peek in a window and had been forced to do some rather fast talking in order to avoid having the police called. That had included Pete pulling out his credentials. Once they'd been shown, the security guard had backed down, but had insisted that if they had a legitimate reason to be investigating the warehouse, that they had to return in the morning with a proper warrant.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever - I still say we had to check it out. I mean, what if we'd found something? Then what? Then I'd be looking pretty good right about now." Irritation made Pete obnoxious. Something was definitely up with this warehouse. The little bit he'd been able to see before the guard had shown up told him that whatever was inside the building, it wasn't crates of tacky souvenirs or cheap electronics. In fact, the actual floor of the warehouse had seemed profoundly underused for a busy shipping company. Only one small corner of the warehouse had contained anything resembling shipping containers, and they hadn't occupied much space.

"Yes, well, instead, you get to be the one to look like an idiot while I go and call Claudia and see what she's been able to find on our real case," said Artie as he thrust himself into the passenger seat of the car.

Pete paused at the driver's door and glanced back at the warehouse. Scratching his chin, he tried to find some way to quantify the odd, buzzing sensation that prickled the hairs on the back of his neck, but just couldn't find anything that he could point to and say, "There, look, it's right there in front of you!" Instead, he sighed, and turned to get into the car, never realizing that less than a hundred feet from where he stood, Myka sat crouched in her rental car, watching until he drove away.

**

Discovering that the address led to a warehouse on the docks hadn't surprise Myka. What had caused a gasp of shock was spotting the shadow-shrouded forms of Pete and Artie as they scurried from building to building. She and Helena had parked across the street from the warehouse, huddled in the car and had been trading a pair of cheap binoculars back and forth when Myka had suddenly noticed one of the moving shadows was oddly squat in shape.

They'd both squished themselves down below the level of the window and Myka had held her breath each time she'd glanced up to see where the two men were. After about ten minutes, she was able to sit back up and let out a long sigh of relief. They were gone.

"Well," said Helena as she straightened the rumpled fabric of her improvised sling, "That certainly got the blood pumping. Now what?"

Myka's stomach rumbled loudly. Grimacing, Myka dryly replied, "Now we get something to eat."

Over dinner at a small, cozy, out of the way Italian restaurant, they discussed what they'd seen at the warehouse.

"Yes, but, why would they need so many armed guards to protect the place?" On a napkin, Myka had sketched what she'd been able to make out of the set up and realized that there had been far more security than a simple storage facility required. "I mean, if I didn't know any better, I'd begin to wonder if they were arms smugglers or something like that." A quick call to Claudia had only produced the information that the warehouse was owned by a company that was a shell corporation for another company whose board of trustees seemed to exist only on paper. In other words, it was going to take the hacker some time to dig through the red tape to find the real people behind the fake businesses.

Tearing off a chunk of oil-soaked bread, Helena bit into it and said, "Perhaps they are smugglers of a type. If, as Claudia claims, this is where the computer that hacked into Warehouse 13's finances is located, then perhaps those behind it are, in fact, aware of what it is that they are dealing with? Surely MacPherson had more than one or two toadies who understood the implications of the kind of power the artifacts he sought possessed."

The idea that there might be more people out there like MacPherson - that wanted to see the artifacts in the hands of anyone who could afford them - made Myka's appetite fade. Pushing her food around on her plate, she sighed and said, "We need some way to get inside that building. Damn it! Why did they have to choose you? If it were anyone else, Artie might believe me when I showed him the Pearl, but for some reason, he's got a real problem when it comes to trusting you."

Helena shrugged. "I can't really blame him. Even without all the havoc I caused in retrieving my personal possessions, I'm still an anomaly to him." She smiled sadly. "I'm H.G. Wells, Myka - a figure from another time; perhaps, in his mind, I'm little more than a walking, talking artifact that needs to be kept away from the unwary world." She winced as a sharper than normal throb of pain pulsed inside her head.

Setting down her fork, Myka shook her head. "That's not fair - you're not an inanimate object! It's not like you can just be locked up in a box and forgotten about for a hundred years!" Then she blanched as she realized that was exactly what had happened. Glancing up, she caught just the tail end of a pained expression fleeting across Helena's face.

Helena reached out and took Myka's hand and tried to smile. "No one ever claimed that life was fair, Myka."

"It's wrong." Even as she spoke, Myka watched her lover's face, seeking an echo of the pain she swore she'd just seen there.

"I'm not disagreeing with you." The headache blossomed, causing her nostrils to flair as she fought off a surge of nausea.

"I won't let him lock you up just because he's afraid of something you might do. You're innocent - heck, you chose to be bronzed in the first place! There's no reason to punish you just because you happen to have a birth date that begins with an eighteen!" Something's wrong. She looks like she's about to pass out!

Noticing that they were beginning to draw interested glances, Helena leaned forward and said, "Darling, while I do appreciate your support, perhaps you could do it a little less vociferously? I'd really rather not get a personal introduction to the inside of a modern gaol tonight." The pain had reached its crescendo, making it difficult for Helena to see more than a few, hazy blobs.

Instantly, Myka quieted, looking around and smiling in embarrassment at anyone whose gaze lingered too long on her. "Sorry," she said as she turned her attention back to Helena. "I just get very defensive of the people I love. Speaking of which – is something wrong with your dinner? You look like you just swallowed something and it moved.”

Helena grimaced. “Nothing so strange as that, love. I've just a bit of a headache is all. It's fine – it's already passing.” She forced a smile and took a hearty bite of a meal that was no longer appetizing.

**

If there was anything that he could say with certainty about why he hated having to get his hands dirty, it was that he hated the Badlands. Hot, dry, dusty, and at night, colder than a witch's tit, the boring little back of nowhere hole in the planet where the current warehouse resided made him want to spit nails at those who'd chosen to hide it in such a remote location.

He liked his creature comforts, and one just could not find things like freshly hand-rolled Cuban cigars in Univille. Still, at least this way, he had the satisfaction of knowing that the job would be done exactly to his specifications. Nothing would go wrong this time, he'd be sure of it. Taking a firm grip on the handle of his gun, he hunkered down to wait. It wouldn't be long now.

TBC : Due to unforeseen circumstances (RL) there probably won't be another chapter posted until next Wednesday but that's at the very latest. Please don't throw things at me...