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heartsways - Only When I Sleep

WAREHOUSE 13 - MYKA BERING/HG WELLS

Only When I Sleep

heartsways

Title: Only When I Sleep

Author: heartsways

Rating: PG–13

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Pairing: HG/Myka

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for–profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Summary: Set Post Season 3 finale so spoilery as heck. Myka is having dreams of the warehouse.

Author’s Note: Trying a little something new here, so be gentle with me. // You can find me on twitter: @heartsways

LJ Post: heartsways.livejournal.com/124394.html

Only When I Sleep

heartsways

She dreamt of the warehouse. It had started creeping into her dreams in a vague way at first; glimpses of artifacts, stacked high along rows that stretched as far as the eye could see. She would wake from her dreams, sometimes in the middle of the night, staring into the darkness and remembering objects, labels, mysteries housed and contained.

The dreams were always of how the warehouse used to be: rich and full and humming with energy. She never dreamt of the last time she had seen the warehouse: burned to the ground, a charred husk of greatness reduced to ashes. It was as though her mind couldn’t – wouldn’t – forget the unerring beauty of the place. How it had become a part of her, just as she had been a part of it.

Myka’s nights were increasingly spent wandering down between the stacks of the warehouse inside her head. Limitless wonder, Mrs Frederick had said. And the warehouse had delivered, time and again, expanding Myka’s perceptions of reality so that disbelief itself became suspended.

She began to expect the dreams, settling down in her bed with an almost childlike anticipation. They were unreliable, of course. The nights when she wanted them the most, they remained indistinct and out of reach. Just when she’d almost given up on having them, they would intrude once more; bright, colorful, vivid. She could smell the gathering dust and wooden packing crates. She could feel the metal struts of the huge shelves under her touch.

Pete told her that the dreams signified the love that she had for her job, for the warehouse, for everything she’d seen and shared. For a man who, at times, had the inability to possess an unexpressed thought, Pete didn’t say much more about it. But Myka knew that he was suffering too; that the loss of the warehouse had rested heavily on their shoulders. It was how it worked – how it had worked for the last few years. The warehouse wasn’t just a location; it was another member of their team.

A member whose loss they felt as keenly as they did that of the other operatives who had fallen.

Myka didn’t want to think about that, though. About the specter of death that followed in their wake. She’d already lost enough, anyway. Sometimes it felt like too much. No; she didn’t want to think about that. Thinking about it would make it real.

She began to explore the further recesses of the warehouse, her dreams taking her into colder, darker stacks. She found herself wandering through areas where shadows lurked and whispers still echoed, unheard and unheeded.

Just like people, the warehouse was unpredictable. It had the power to betray, to deceive and to harm. Limitless wonder and limitless danger. But Myka’s love was borne from acknowledgement; from understanding and accepting the rich dichotomy that her new life presented. So she continued to love and believe in the place, even if it was just in her dreams, just like she did with people. It was in her nature, after all. Once she placed her belief in someone, she found it almost impossible to stop.

Even if people, like the warehouse, were capable of the most heinous acts.

It was a week before Myka dreamt of the warehouse again. She had missed it. In the seven nights that had passed, dreamless, she had woken unsatisfied and restless. There were even dark circles under her eyes as she wrestled with the contradiction of sleeping for eight hours yet waking with the sense that she hadn’t found any peace at all.

When the team gathered at Leena’s, it was with an exhausted solemnity that trickled an undercurrent of regret throughout their meetings. Their future was uncertain; the warehouse razed to the ground and the Regents in a state of alarmed disarray. No matter how they tried to hide it, it was there nonetheless.

That night, Myka crawled into her bed and closed her eyes, expecting nothing. Almost immediately, she was whisked into the warehouse again. Her heart leapt as she found herself walking the long, never–ending corridor created by high shelves that loomed over her. The sound of her footsteps echoed in her ears and she reached out, trailing a finger along the edge of a wooden pallet, feeling the rough material under her skin.

It was so real. So distinct. Just like nothing had ever happened.

She found herself in the Bronze section, surrounded by statues poised in a constant state of indecision, halfway between waking and sleeping. Some she recognized, some she didn’t. It had seemed cruel, at first; halting a life in such a way. But protection came at a high price, something that Myka had rationalized along with her inherent sense of humanity, of forgiveness and an unmovable faith.

Even if that faith did only exist in her dreams, Myka gave herself over to it for a moment, pausing among the figures around her. Dreams of hope and faith were better than nothing, after all.

“Well, you took your time.”

The voice was unmistakably familiar; the light, gently mocking tone moving over syllables in an accent that time had not dulled. Spinning around, Myka’s eyes were wide, mouth open in an odd mixture of fear and joy.

Helena shrugged in light of Myka’s alarm and proffered a smile towards the dumbstruck agent. Her gesture was casual but HG Wells had spent over a century perfecting her insouciance. Even when bronzed, her mind had never stopped working, calculating machinations of stealth and skill. Her demeanor was the cloak that shielded her, that protected her.

It was with some humility then, that Helena saw Myka blink and, in an instant, rip away the shroud that she clung to.

“Of course,” Myka said, discovering her voice and nodding. “Of course you’d be here.” She clutched her arms around her chest and shifted slightly on the cold floor, feet scuffling on the stone.

“This is my home,” Helena said with a wry smile. “After a fashion, I suppose. I’ve spent more time here than anywhere else.” She spread her arms, gesturing around her in the dim light. “I can’t leave the warehouse any more than you can, Myka.”

“In my dreams, maybe,” Myka answered. She let out a tiny laugh, her eyes following the lines of Helena’s face; lines she’d followed many times before, tracing each one with apprehension and desire.

She stepped closer to Helena, gaze narrowing. The other woman looked real enough: her hair was a sheen of black, her chest moving up and down with each breath, fingers flexing slightly. Her skin, porcelain pale with two bright spots of color high up on her cheek.

“You’re a dream too, right?” she said, and watched carefully as Helena bit at her lower lip in contemplation, eyelids fluttering down to hide eyes that had seen everything, seen too much. “I mean, none of this is real.”

Myka wasn’t sure whether she was stating the facts or trying to convince herself of the truth. Truth, after all, had been such a nebulous creature between the two of them, flitting nervously from one to the other and always just out of reach until the last, agonizing moment.

Helena moved forwards too, reaching out her hands and closing her fingers around Myka’s wrists. They were warm; the agent gasped at the contact.

“Reality is an odd concept when it comes to the warehouse, isn’t it?” Helena murmured, her eyes searching Myka’s face. They glistened in the yellow light from above and a tiny silence fell between them as recognition burned a flush across Myka’s cheeks.

“There are things this place is capable of that are beyond either of our realms of knowledge,” Helena continued, letting go of Myka’s wrists and shoving her hands into the pockets of her pants. “It’s only when we suspend disbelief that we really, truly start to believe that anything is possible.”

“Right,” Myka said abruptly with a faint smirk. “You mean like I used to believe that one day you’d stop talking in riddles and actually tell me what the hell is going on?”

Helena chuckled, a low, musical sound. Myka realized with a lurch of her gut that she’d missed it. She’d missed everything about HG. A lump of sorrow formed in her throat and she swallowed over it, half–turning away so that the other woman couldn’t see her.

“You died,” she said in a husked voice. “You died, Helena. I watched it happen.”

“Myka.” Helena was close behind her now, one hand curling over her shoulder.

“No!” Myka spun around, brushing away Helena’s hand and frowning at the other woman. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this, Helena. It won’t work. I dream about the warehouse because I feel responsible for its destruction. But you were responsible for what you did. This isn’t my dream.”

She paced away from Helena now; anything to get away from the ghost that had haunted her conscience for weeks. Perhaps Pete had been right when he’d told her she should get angry about what happened rather than beating herself up about it. Because when it mattered, Myka cursed herself for not doing more – for not saving Helena.

“You’re right, actually.” Helena’s voice was stronger now, reacquiring some of the confident swagger that she exuded so well. “It’s not your dream at all.”

Myka turned, facing Helena once more. Their eyes met and HG smiled gently.

“It’s mine,” she said, with a self–deprecating roll of her eyes.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” Myka shook her head, curls tumbling around her shoulders.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Helena explained. “I knew you’d come here sooner or later.” She quirked an eyebrow and let out a small huff of laughter. “I thought it might be sooner, of course, but you never were easy to predict, Myka.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” the agent spluttered. “That all my dreams about the warehouse have been…what, leading me to you?”

“In a way, yes,” Helena nodded. “The human brain works in mysterious ways. Your brain, even more so.” She had the audacity to wink at Myka, whose lips tightened in silent rebuke, arms reaching around her own torso again, striving for comfort.

“You remember the locket…my locket?” Helena’s eyebrow rose in enquiry as Myka’s head bobbed up and down. “Do you remember what was inside it?”

“Your uh…a picture of your daughter,” Myka said, oddly breathless, uncertainty rushing through her tone.

“When you spend as much time around artifacts as we have,” Helena continued, pacing a little, “you know that they can sometimes become imbued with energy or…or life force.”

She halted and turned to glance at Myka over her shoulder. “Science can only go so far when it comes to explaining this sort of anomaly,” she smiled. “That locket was the only tangible memory I had of my daughter; the one thing that reminded me I was capable of giving and receiving love.” Her voice broke and she lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing at an errant tear with an impatient finger.

“I remember.”

Taking a fortifying breath, Helena nodded. “Then you remember where it is now.”

Myka did. It was in the top drawer of her bedside cabinet, carefully wrapped in a velveteen sheet. She’d carried it with her until, for fear of damaging it, she’d reluctantly removed it from her pocket and kept it by her bed. It was, after all, the only tangible memory she had of HG. Precious. Delicate. Not nearly substantial enough.

“Anyway,” Helena’s voice broke Myka’s reverie and the agent looked up into dark eyes that were firmly fixed upon her. “The locket brought you here. It encouraged you to find your way through the warehouse to find me. After all, this is where we first met.”

“But…” Myka was frowning again, shaking her head. “I’m dreaming. This is a dream.”

Helena shrugged, the corners of her mouth turning down in doubtful thought. “My consciousness was separated from my physical form for months. I existed in bronze for years. And let’s not forget the whole cat incident in Wyoming,” she shuddered.

“I’m not sure pondering the physics of dream states is going to make for the reunion we’d both hoped for.”

A mischievous grin spread across her mouth. It was as infectious as the light sparkling in her eyes and Myka couldn’t resist the giggle that burst from her lips. For a moment, all was well. All was familiar. It was relief that flooded warm through Myka’s chest; relief and the sharp pang of something else that clutched at her heart.

As their laughter died, Helena looked at Myka with a considered gaze. The agent almost shivered as it swept over her. She never had discovered how to say goodbye to the person who knew her the best. She’d never wanted to. And as Helena moved closer, Myka knew that she never would.

“Is this real?” she whispered. Her voice sounded ridiculously loud in the quiet of the warehouse, as though the very place itself had stilled in reverence.

Helena blinked and her mouth curved into an impossibly beautiful smile. “It’s as real as you want it to be, I think. Do you want it to be real?” A desperately pleading tone lifted her voice and her smile faded to an expression of hope.

“I…” Myka began, and then stopped. She’d never really felt ready for this. And all the times when she could have acknowledged it, she had pushed it aside in favor of the mission. She’d put a pin in her feelings so that she could focus on the task at hand, promising to return to them when she had both the time and courage to deal with the questions her mind threw up at her.

But time had run away from her. From them. From this. And the locket, in bringing her back, had posed the same questions that had gone unanswered before.

The locket.

Myka paused, her mouth open. Lifting a finger into the air, she jabbed it towards Helena and frowned.

“You said the locket brought me here.”

“I did.”

“But you also said that it was a conduit for your feelings.”

“I did.”

“So why…I mean, how could it…” Myka was verbally floundering. But her mind – her heart – didn’t flounder. It hoped. It knew. The words were just so difficult to say.

“I’m assuming that before you wake up from this, there will be an end to that question.” Helena’s mouth twitched as she suppressed a smile. There was something to be said for living as long as she had; for living the life that she had. Sometimes that life required endless patience. Knowing Myka definitely did. So she stood and waited while the agent blinked and shifted in front of her.

If it took an eternity of dreams, Helena would wait. All she had was time, so often her closest compatriot and her greatest enemy. Time, and the love that had brought her back.

“You love me the way you love Christina,” Myka finally said, blushing furiously and averting her gaze as Helena let out a bark of laughter.

“I’m fairly certain that, even though I could be your great, great grandmother, my feelings for you are distinctly less than maternal, Myka.” HG’s voice was droll and only served to increase the crimson flood working its way down Myka’s neck. “And I’m also fairly certain that you’re not stupid enough to even consider that an option.”

“The alternative is kinda scary,” Myka muttered, shaking her head.

“I concur,” Helena nodded. “But it doesn’t make it any less real.”

Now Myka looked at the other woman. Now she met the dark gaze directed towards her and took a few, faltering steps forwards so that they were close, facing one another. She felt oddly unafraid. Regret was a powerful motivator and, even if this wasn’t real; even if it was a dream, she still wanted to assuage the nagging sensation in her gut that had haunted her ever since the warehouse had exploded.

“I believed in you when nobody else did. Even when you didn’t.”

“Especially when I didn’t,” Helena corrected Myka gently. “You can imagine it came as quite a surprise to me to feel something again. After Christina…after my time with the warehouse, I wasn’t sure I could. And certainly not for another operative.” She shrugged in acceptance and smiled. Being HG Wells had enabled her to accept many things. Loving Myka Bering might not have been a part of her master plan, but as revelations went, it had changed her in ways that she thought were beyond her reach.

“But you went away,” Myka’s lips twisted with the painful memory. “Sometimes it feels like everyone I love dies.”

“Oh, I’m not dead,” Helena reached out and took Myka’s hands in her own. “Not really. I’m…I’m always here, in the warehouse. Waiting for you.”

“And that makes it better…how?”

Helena smiled again. The disconsolate expression on Myka’s face told her all she really needed to know. All she’d suspected and hoped for. She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the other woman’s hand and took a short breath.

“It means that somewhere in the ether I’m still alive. That my consciousness and my…” she paused and swallowed quickly, “…my truest self is still present. Waiting for you to find me.”

“Find you how?” Myka insisted, perplexed.

“Well now, that I don’t know,” HG let out a breath of laughter and shook her head. “But I’m sure Claudia and Artie, not to mention Pete can come up with some grand design. Besides,” she added, “you found me here, didn’t you? I believe in you, Myka. I trust you.”

She lifted a hand and pushed back a few stray strands of hair from Myka’s face, fingertips lingering over a cheek. Myka’s breathing hitched and her eyelids flickered shut for a moment but she didn’t move, didn’t pull away. Because if this was a dream, then Myka was determined to savor every moment of it.

“And there was one thing I never got to say before…” Helena tilted her head onto one side as her fingertips tracked a pathway down Myka’s face. “Before time ran out.”

Opening her eyes, Myka stared at Helena and blinked. “Is this about apples?” she asked tremulously. “Because I heard that. You mentioned apples and – “

Any further words were stopped by the soft pressure of lips on her own. By arms encircling her waist and the sensation of a body pushed up against her own. Instinctively, Myka responded, straining towards Helena and grabbing at her. The body beneath her touch was firm, warm, real.

This was no dream. Only reality, suspended. Displaced.

After a moment, Helena drew back, reaching up once more to lay her palm over Myka’s cheek, locked in the agent’s embrace, feeling her tremble, hearing her sigh.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you, Myka,” she whispered. “Even though I didn’t know I could love anything or anyone again. I love you.”

“I know,” Myka nodded with a grin. “I knew when you had a gun to my head and refused to pull the trigger. I knew back then.”

“Hm,” Helena mused sardonically. “Hardly the epitome of romance.”

“For you? Yeah, it is,” Myka chuckled. She blinked again and frowned. Her vision was becoming blurry. Stepping back out of Helena’s embrace, she rubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes and squeezed them tight shut.

“Myka?”

“I can’t…I can’t see.” Panic sent a chill through Myka’s body and she opened her eyes, looked at Helena with anguish. “I think I’m waking up.”

“Impeccable timing,” Helena remarked with an aggrieved sigh. She reached out again, taking Myka into her arms and breathing in the scent of the agent, burying her face into luxurious curls of dark hair. “Don’t forget me,” she murmured. “Please don’t forget me.”

“I won’t. I can’t.” Myka’s speech was becoming slurred and she stumbled, bumping against Helena before lurching backwards to look at the other woman. “I promise I’ll find you again, okay? And Claudia…I mean, Pete and…” She let out a long breath through surprised lips. “Wow, I really am zoning out here.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Helena said, her fingers closing around Myka’s upper arms. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

If there was more to be said, it was indistinct and as hazy as Myka’s vision. Helena’s features became faint, ghosting into pale images as Myka felt herself drift from the warehouse, looming stacks rushing past her in a whirl of crates as she was pulled from the scene, tugged unceremoniously from the one place she wanted to stay. The last thing she felt was Helena’s fingers slipping from her own before she was finally, completely alone.

By the time she opened her eyes, she knew with a sinking heart that she was no longer in the warehouse. Because the warehouse was gone. Helena was gone. And Myka was back in her bed, the cotton sheets cool to her skin, the pillow underneath her head soft and inviting.

She gazed into the black room beyond the bed. Tentatively, she lifted a hand to her mouth and touched her fingertips to lips that still bore the heat of Helena’s kiss. Inside her chest, her heart was pounding with renewed knowledge, rediscovered emotion.

And she knew, without shadow of a doubt, that the next mission she embarked upon would be one in which her heart would be fully invested. That hope, even though it had been burned to ash, would spring anew once more.

~ ~ ~