AN: This is the third part of what I'm now calling the Remember series.

It was supposed to be a two month assignment. Now she had been living in the fucking capital of sin for a year. Well, not exactly one year. It will be a year in about two days. They were going to celebrate apparently. Her, Pete and Jon.

Pete loved it here. He said it has all the booze and hot chicks he needed. He was even planning to be stationed here after this is over.

But that's the problem, isn't it? It's never going to be over.

At first, it was about gathering information. It was just a precaution according to her supervisor. They were given intel that the Marcello family was planning to assassinate a member of the Senate.

"Who?" she had asked.

"That's why we're sending you," was the answer she was given.

Leland, her supervisor said it was just a routine check. It was probably nothing. And she would be back at D.C. in two months for her next assignment.

Most of the things she had been doing since she started as an agent were paperwork. So she was really eager to get a field job.

The only problem was it was in Vegas. The place where inhibitions go to die. She hated that. People need to understand that actions have consequences. All the time. She figured the fifty percent divorce rate was due to places like Vegas existing.

It was only two months, she had thought. This kind of assignment was expected. She had to make certain sacrifices to advance her career. This was one of it. And it was only going to be for two months.
If only she knew.

Yes, she did shed her good girl image once she went to college. Some say she went a little wild. But she still memorized all the rule books and manuals she could get her hands on. Certain things she did may seem reckless but she always remembered not to go too far.

Pete was the only person who saw through it. He always teased her about the stick that's halfway up her ass.

She didn't quite understand their relationship. He drove her crazy most of the time but there were moments when she didn't even have to say a word and he'd know what she was thinking.

Jon, however, was as miserable as her. He had a fiancé who he proposed to a year ago. They didn't even have a date for their wedding yet. It wasn't hard to guess why.

She was sure that Pete was the only one who was going to be celebrating in two days.

"Excuse me," a voice called out. A female voice. Thank goodness because she can't handle another cheesy pick up line.

She turned and found herself facing a goddess. Now she was the one wanting to deliver a cheesy pick up line if she could find her voice.

"Yes," she managed to blurt out.

"May I have an ashtray please?"

"Sure," Myka said. "I'll go get you one."

...

When she found herself not in 1891 Paris but in 2005 South Dakota, Helena was disappointed. It wasn't that traveling to the future wasn't great but she needed to save Christina. She had gone back four times now. The Regents will find out sooner or later. She suspected it would be sooner rather than later. And when that happens, they will take away her machine and she won't be able to go back anymore.

So she told the Warehouse Agent who greeted her, one Mr MacPherson that she wouldn't be long if he could point out where her time machine was currently at.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Ms Wells," he had said.

It didn't surprise her too much that he knew her name. They were in the Warehouse, Warehouse 13 to be precise. He had probably read her file.

Then she saw her reflection. She tried not to stare for too long. It was on the Lewis Carroll's Mirror.

But MacPherson told her to look more closely.

"Don't worry," he said. "It's properly secured."

She looked carefully at her face. There were some tiny creases where there weren't this morning when she woke up. They were barely noticeable but they were there.

"Am I older?" she asked. "Did the time machine do this?"

"You know as well as I do that physical time travel is impossible."

"Then why am I here? In my own body?"

There was one artifact that she could think of that could preserve her body and all its functions after a hundred years. But it was used as a tool for punishment for the most dangerous of criminals. And if it was used on her, it meant she was one of them.

"By the look on your face, I assume you have guessed the answer correctly."

She was quite annoyed with this man. She didn't trust him. But did it matter? Because if she was right (she can't quite believe it yet), she may be worse than him.

"So you have to understand why I can't let you tinker with our artifacts," he went on.

How dare he? Calling her inventions his. Like she didn't have the right to them. Treating her like she was untrustworthy. She gave her life to the Warehouse. So much so that she wasn't there when her daughter needed her. She didn't deserve this kind of treatment.

MacPherson wasn't finished. "Unless..."

"Don't waste your breathe," she said to him. She didn't trust him. "Whatever it is that you want me to do, it doesn't matter. I'll be back to my time in about twenty one hours."

He snickered. "Are you sure?" retaining that smug smile on his face. "That might be the case when you travel to the past but what happens when you travel to the future? You could be stuck here for weeks, maybe months or years. All those time wasted when you can save, what was her name, Christina?"

She charged forward and grabbed him by his collar. She was fuming.

"You do not use her name like that," she warned.

But she didn't follow through because she knew he was right. She had been to the future before and it was longer than 22 hours and 19 minutes.

Helena continued to stare as Myka walked away to fetch her an ashtray.

When MacPherson gave her a file containing the mission she had agreed to reluctantly, she was surprised to find a familiar face in it. It was like she had never forgotten about all those years ago when she was thrown into a strange but familiar world and fell in love for the first time. She didn't just know now, she remembered, like the memory was always there in the back of her mind.

She could tell that Myka couldn't recognize her. This Myka hadn't met her in her real body yet. But she could also tell regardless of that, Myka was very interested in this body.

...

Myka handed the ashtray to the woman.

She reached into all her pockets. Her pants. Her shirt. Even her jacket. Then she smiled sheepishly, "I don't actually smoke you know. I believe having all that smoke going into the lungs is potentially dangerously."

It was weird because everyone knew that smoking was a health hazard. But Myka didn't say anything because she would occasionally indulge with one or two cigarettes when she got the day shifts and hadn't seen sunlight for days.

"I just wanted to talk to you," the woman continued. "Then I saw the lady over there," she pointed at an old woman who was playing one of the slot machines, "asking you for an ashtray. So..." she trailed off. "I'm Helena. Wolcott. Helena Wolcott."

She knew it. The woman, Helena, was staring at her ass when she went to get the ashtray.

Myka smiled. She didn't normally do this, mixing business with pleasure but this was no longer a business she cared for. And she'd be stupid to turn this stunning goddess away.

"Nice to meet you, Helena. I'm Myka Baker."

"Baker!" her manager called. Asshole.

Other than the usual zombies at the slot machines, there was no one else around. He can't use that crap about attending to everyone's needs. The slot machine zombies preferred not to be distracted. So unless they called upon her, she didn't have anything else to do.

"Didn't know you're a dyke," the bastard said. "Besides, she's too pretty to be one. Let me handle her."

She never wanted so badly to use all her knowledge of martial arts to completely decimate this man. Instead she concentrated all that rage in her palms and gripped the empty air as tightly as possible.

This is one of those times when she craved for a cigarette.

"Whatever," she said. "I'm taking a break."

It's Vegas. Smoking indoors was permitted. But she preferred to stand outside in the cold. Something about the smoke of her cigarette mixing with the fresh air.

She didn't think smoking was cool. She thought it was a filthy habit and someday, it was going to take its toll on her body. But she needed something to take the edge off when she knew she was being impulsive or reckless and not following the rules.

She was exploring her options. She tried chewing gum. But it only managed to hurt her jaw than ease her nerves.

"Those little things are rather addictive, aren't they?" a familiar voice said.

"Oh, this," she wiggled the cigarette between her fingers. "I don't do it much. I'll just put it out."

"No," said Helena. "I don't mind."

"I don't mind too," she stubbed the cigarette on the charred top of the bin next to her. "Besides, they say second hand smoke is more dangerous than inhaling the smoke straight from the cigarette. And I don't want to endanger your life."

"How gallant of you. But I'm not sure to what extent as you just left me with a neanderthal."

Myka laughed. It was exactly what she thought, except, she had more colorful names for that jackass.

"He thought he could be a better company than me."

"He's sorely mistaken then."

The way she was smiling, it reminded her of someone. Someone she had shoved so far in the back of her mind, she was having trouble remembering his name. His real name. Not the fake one that she can't seem to forget no matter how hard she tried. It didn't help that he had the same name as her favorite author.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

She felt foolish now. "It's nothing." Who the hell still thinks about their high school sweetheart? Other than those who married their high school sweetheart of course. And she wouldn't call him her high school sweetheart. Maybe a fling since it only lasted for a week.

"I find it hard to believe that your thoughts are worth nothing."

"Well, you don't know me," she replied. "I need to get back to work."

...

She admitted she was a little out of line. And every being of her was starting to regret her actions. Helena was just being nice. And what did she get for it? A big dramatic storm off.

Myka didn't see her after that. She probably went to a casino with friendlier employees.

She didn't know why she was in such a bad mood.

It was the lack of sunlight, she reasoned. She loved sunlight. She loved the heat from it even if you can barely feel it when it's cloudy or raining.

"It's just sunlight, Myka," Pete would always say to her. "You know the kind of light I like?" and that goofy grin of his would come on.

Then she and Jon would pretend to ignore him.

But it never stopped him from exclaiming, "The dark kind!" which was completely ridiculous. "When the anonymity of your companion or..." he'd wiggle his stupid eyebrows, "companions strips her, or them, off their clothes and inhibitions. And you wake up the next morning feeling awesome!" Then he'd raise his hands for a double high five which had never been reciprocated.

Once, Jon asked, "Are you sure you've never slept with a guy before?"

It shut him right up.

Yes, that was it. The fucking sunlight. She had been doing day shifts for four days now. And the low lighting that casinos usually opt for wasn't helping.

It wasn't some high school ex-boyfriend who went crazy. No. It wasn't the fact that she fell in love with said boy when he was crazy. No. And it really wasn't because she missed him. That would be absurd.

This assignment was fucking with her mind.

Their target, Eddie Marcello only came in on Thursday nights. But in order not to raise any suspicions, she had to take regular shifts like all the other waitresses.

So basically, she was living a life of a cocktail waitress. That was money well spent on her college education.

She tried not to think about it when she was working. It tended to make her very angry which in turn, made her less patient. And her job required a lot of patience.

So when a customer tried to grab her ass today, she grabbed his hand before he could do the deed and twisted his arm until his shoulder was dislocated.

It was only when she heard the pop of his humerus separating from his scapula that she realized what she was doing. She was going to be in so much trouble.

But at least she got to get out of work early. And she can finally have a good night sleep since she didn't have to think about the sleazy men she would have to face the next morning.

She was going to take a nice long walk then go back to her motel room where a bottle of cheap wine will be waiting for her. And she could catch up on some reading until early morning without worrying about showing up to work with dark circles around her eyes. It was actually nice if she didn't think about the huge possibility of getting fired.

She didn't have to tell Leland straight away. He hadn't been picking up his phone as of late. And when he did, he would cut the conversation short with excuses like a meeting or there was someone more important than her on the other line.

She was just about to curl up in her bed with 'The Restaurant at the End of the Universe' when someone knocked on her door.

"Hey, Mykes," it was Pete.

"Pete, I had a very bad day. Could this wait until tomorrow?" she asked.

"It can't," he said. "And I think it's something that can make your day a whole lot better."

She sighed. "Spit it out, Pete."

"I met someone who could help us," he said, excitedly.

"Who?"

A woman stepped into view.

"Myka, this is—"

They didn't need an introduction. "Helena Wolcott."