Warehouse 13 Fic
BaringXWells Pairing
Rating: M, for because reasons (mostly language because I swear like a sailor, and possibly smut if I can write it without my face catching on fire)
Disclaimer: Syfy owns these characters, but they're not being nice to them so I have taken them away until they learn how to treat their toys nice. (But for realzies I be broke, so don't bother suing me)
AN: Be kind and let me know if you like it. This is my first fanfic. Which is odd since I spend most of my time on the internet here. Anyway, this was inspired by a gif set I found on Tumblr and I felt as if it was a thing that needed to exist, so here it is. I was originally going to have it be a one shot, but that didn't really work, we'll see how long I can keep this up.
Summary: (set sometime after that whole Nate deal that we are all still upset about) Our lanky heroin suddenly finds that she has been ripped from her reality and unceremoniously dropped into one where she is married to Helena.
Ch1: When am I?
It's not often that time becomes a question in most people's lives. Sure, you may ask "What time is it?" but generally speaking, if asked, you can give, at the very least, the year in which you are living. But for warehouse agents, where and when tend to go hand in hand.
Whether they are being removed from bronze encasing after a century, or using a temporal conscious transfer engine to solve a forty year old mystery, issues with time have come to be part of the norm for our agents.
But at least they always had some sort of warning. Then they could set up a guard to protect themselves from the shock of being ripped from their reality and thrown elsewhere. So was not the case for our Myka Bering.
She had thrown herself into work lately, with such fervor it had begun to scare her partner and best friend, Pete Latimer. She took every case given to her, investigated every ping that came through, whether Claudia thought it relevant or not. When she wasn't out in the field, she was working the warehouse, researching artifacts that she hadn't personally collected, helping keep things in their proper place, since Leena wasn't exactly there to do it anymore. She kept herself busy, and the regents didn't seem to mind. All they noticed was the spike in successful cases and happy to have the dozens of artifacts Agent Bering had collected safe inside the Warehouse.
But they didn't see what Pete saw.
Myka devoted herself completely to the job. Which he wouldn't have minded so much, it wasn't that much different form old Myka, really. If it were not for one tiny detail, that is. Myka had seemed to become an adrenaline junkie. Or that's what he thought at first, anyway. As an addict himself, he recognized the similar tics. She couldn't sit still, begun to chase and hit first and save asking questions for somebody else. She became impatient, refused to wait for back up, and sometimes didn't even tell her partner where she was going.
It scared Pete to realize that Myka had adopted a certain disregard for life. And it didn't take a genius like Claudia to figure out where it was stemming from. Helena G. Wells.
That gorgeous, maddening, psychotic, Victorian agent had been the root of so many problems for Pete ever since he ran into her in London. She always seemed to have some secret agenda, and after all she had done to the team, and despite what Artie said, Pete still didn't trust her.
His mistrust was only validated after the case in Wisconsin. HG had called and Myka came running, like she always would. But, as it turned out, HG, or rather, Emily Lake, had set up a nice, little, cozy life for herself. And, in Pete's eyes, once HG had gotten what she wanted from Myka, she tossed her back into the wind.
That's when it started.
It was true. To Myka, the B&B was just feeling too empty these days. No Leena, no Helena… So, to keep herself from going mad with the grief of another broken heart, Myka had thrown herself into work. She let herself be consumed by it. Wanting to spend as little time in the places that held memories of HG as possible.
It wasn't as if one day she woke up and decided to end her life. It was a slow, gradual thing that snuck up and swallowed her whole. And it wasn't that she wanted to commit suicide, she just no longer cared if she lived or died at the end of the day.
It's here that our story begins, with several pings and a vibe. Both happening simultaneously, but noticed by two different people.
Claudia spun in her chair, the incessant noise behind her causing brief anxiety, "Frack, please don't be broken please don't be broken." She said, typing madly away on her key board. The program was supposed to alert her when something weird happened and most likely involved an artifact that they had yet to acquisition.
Only, it seemed as if it were glitching. She was getting twelve, no make that thirteen pings at once, all with in the same square mile of each other, "What the heck?" she asked the machine, which only continued to whir in response.
"What is it? Got a ping?" Myka asked, leaning over the young agents chair to stare at the screen, though if she were honest with herself, the computer stuff was Claudia's area of expertise, and she was content to keep it that way, seeing as she couldn't decipher half of what was flying across the screen.
"Yeah," she nodded, gulping, "Yo! Papa bear! You might want to see this!" she barked over her shoulder.
With a crash and a low curse, Artie made himself known as he joined the two women in gawking at the screen, "What is it, Claudia? Can't you see I'm-?" he pulled up short as his jaw dropped, "Myka, buzz Pete, tell him to be ready to leave immediately."
It turns out the Farnsworth that Myka pulled out was unnecessary, as Pete stumbled through the umbilicus, a panicked expression on his face, "What happened?"
"What, have you developed super hearing, Agent Latimer?" Myka asked in a joking tone, pocketing her device once more, "We were just going to call you."
"What?" He looked at her, slowly walking towards her, relief clear on his face though fear was still dominant, "No, I, uh, got a vibe. A big one. And I, uh," he didn't know how to tell her that he was afraid. The vibe that had hit him was almost as strong as the one he had gotten before his father died. He had thought something had happened to his partner.
"Are you two done talking?" Artie demanded, "Because you need to be on a plane now."
"What is it Artie?" Myka turned her attention back to the senior agent, and Pete was glad to no longer be under that too perceptive gaze of hers.
"Thirteen artifacts," he said, writing madly on the notebook in his hands, "They've all been pinged together."
"What does that mean?" Pete stepped forward,
"It means, or at least I think it means," Claudia didn't look up from the screen, "That someone is trying to move a whole bunch of artifacts. To sell or to use, I don't know…" she trailed off.
"You think it might be one of Sykes' guys?" Pete asked.
"It could be," Artie spoke sharply, "There are still quite a few highly dangerous artifacts that we've yet to recover. So we need to act now."
"Sure, sure," he nodded, "But where are we going?"
"Anchorage, Alaska." Claudia and Artie spoke in unison.
"Alaska?" both agents exclaimed, staring at each other in mild disgust and confusion.
"Pack something snuggly." Claudia suggested with a tilt of her head.
When the agents reached the abandoned building that they figured out held the artifacts, they paused for a moment to stare at one another. Teslas drawn and pointed at the floor, secret service training still dominant in them. Their breath fogged out around them, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. But each could taste the determination that hung over them.
They were so ready to be done with everything that had to do with Walter Sykes and if what they thought was behind this barn door actually was waiting for them, it was one huge step towards moving on with their lives.
They nodded to each other before turning and kicking the door in.
"Secret service!" Myka called out instinctively.
"No one move!" Pete growled low at the two men staring questioningly at them, each holding an automatic weapon to their chest, "Drop 'em." He barked again.
The two thugs must've been smarter than they looked, because they both complied, dropping the guns to the floor and bringing their hands up in front of them.
"Got 'em?" Pete asked his partner without turning to look at her.
"Got 'em." She nodded, finger resting lightly on the trigger still.
Pete holstered his tesla, keeping a hand on the butt of the weapon as he walked warily to the closer of the two men. He had him turned around and the first of the cuffs clicking into place when the second man darted, clearly not as smart as previously thought.
"I've got him!" Myka called with a predatory smile as she took off after him.
All around the barn, shelves with an eclectic collection of odds and ends stood, resembling a smaller version of the Warehouse. There were clearly more players at work than the agents had thought. If all of these objects were actually artifacts… well there were hundreds of them, God only knows what all of them did.
The man dashed around the corner of an aisle, and Myka pushed herself to run faster, despite her lungs protesting the frozen air that assailed them. When she reached the edge of the row however, the suspect was nowhere to be seen.
Myka spun this way and that, but all she could hear was Pete talking in a low tone to the captured subject. When she finally heard a noise, it caught her off guard, causing her to react a moment too late. Where she had been waiting for a rustling sound, or footsteps, a guttural voice speaking words she couldn't quite make out followed by a low creaking that went through her ears like nails on a chalk board caused her to jerk back, but not soon enough.
The ten foot shelf beside her had already teetered, and now crashed down upon her.
She gasped, dropping the tooth brush I her hand and quickly, it rattled noisely into the sink bowl and Myka took a step back. It took her a second to calm her pounding heart as confusion set in. She whipped her head aroundt, trying to figure out where she was.
A bathroom, that much was obvious. But she didn't recognize it, nor did it make any sense. Wasn't she just running through a barn with Pete? How had she gotten here?
She looked at the pristine white of the tiles on the bathroom floor, at the cream colored walls, at the walk in shower, then the bowl sink before her with the silver spouts. Finally, she looked up at the mirror, at the woman reflected back in it. It was her, but she was not wearing anything she recognized.
She ran her hands over the black silk slip that she wore. It was mostly lace and left nothing to the imagination. She felt a blush creep over her face. She looked back up, realizing she had on dark make up, and her hair fell straight, curtaining around her shoulders and longer than she remembered. That's funny, she hadn't bothered putting make up on or doing much more than yanking a brush through her curls in months. Not since-
"Darling? Is everything all right in there?" her voice drifted from the other side of the door, and even so unexpected and out of place, it sent a shiver down Myka's spine that rested somewhere low in her stomach.
"Helena?" she mouthed at her reflection; pain, confusion and hope all vying for a spot in her expression.
She tiptoed over the cold tile to the door, carefully twisting the handle and pulling the door back ever so slightly, thanking God that it didn't make a noise. She opened it just enough that she could peer through it while still keeping her scantily clad body hidden behind the door.
Sure enough, Helena was there. Wearing red lingerie that had Myka's heart doing a funny flip and nearly exploding in her chest. She was sauntering around lighting candles and removing pillows from a large canopy bed. Myka had to struggle to not stare at HG's ass, or watch the way her hips swayed to music she could hear softly playing. But she couldn't keep her hungry eyes from devouring every inch of the woman before her.
She pulled back suddenly, closing and locking the door.
She began to pace the length of the small bathroom.
"Okay, Mykes," she chided herself, "Time to wake up. This is no time to be dreaming about HG. You need to wake up." She slapped her cheeks lightly, squinting her eyes tightly before squinting them open experimentally. She groaned in frustration when she realized she was still in the bathroom.
What was going on?
"Myka, darling, really," HG pleaded from the room, "We really mustn't waste a free night when we are so rarely given them. And I do seem to recall a certain Agent Bering agreeing to give me her full attention tonight."
Myka gulped at the sound of her sultry voice, wanting nothing more then to give the woman out there what ever she wanted. But she knew she couldn't.
"None of this is real." She put her back against the wall and slid down to a sitting position, "Come on, Myka, come on." She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, hard enough to draw blood, but still she was not waking up.
"Not asleep?" she asked herself, "Then what the fuck happened?