DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters of Helena Wells and Myka Bering. (Seriously if I did, the show would be called “The Fantastic Adventures of Bering & Wells” and they’d have sex all the time in between saving the world and geeking out over history.
SPOILERS: If you haven’t seen the Warehouse 13 Season 3 finale, do not read this.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To Racethewind10[at]gmail.com
Dream of What Might Have Been
By Racethewind10
"I smell apples…"
The last thing Myka saw was Helena's face and the pride and love and pain and utter sorrow battling for supremacy in those beautiful dark eyes, and then the Agent let her own gaze fall because she could not bear to see the flames tear that beauty apart, turning it to ash.
The next time Myka forced herself to look up, there was no trace Helena had ever been there.
There was only smoke and flame and ruin.
"No!"
Commander Myka Bering let loose a strangled cry, her body jerking upright in bed as she fought the tangle of covers. Mindless panic still holding her in its grip, the Agent struggled with the last clinging remnants of the terrible dream.
It has to be a dream, it has to be. I'm alive, and I'm nowhere near the Warehouse and Helena is…
Gasping, Myka turned, adrenaline a hard spike in her chest.
"Myka? My love what is it?"
But there was Helena, voice thickened with sleep but eyes alert and worried where she lay in their massive bed beside Myka.
Forcing her heart to slow and taking a shaky breath, the Commander looked around the familiar bedroom, regaining her bearings. Everything was as it should be. The great bed with its piles of pillows, most of which had been tossed to the floor earlier that night, was whole except for rumpled bedclothes. The sturdy white walls bore no trace of ash and flame and outside the great windows, the Spanish countryside stretched, sleepy and chased in silver under a full moon. That cool light streamed into the bedroom, touching Helena's features where the Captain sat up beside her lover, her skin un-ravaged by flame and ruin.
"Myka what is it? What's wrong?" Helena's voice was sharp with worry now.
The Commander shook her head, feeling the tightness in chest finally ease as Helena wrapped slender arms around her and pulled her close. The younger woman returned the embrace fiercely, breathing in her lover's warmth as if the soul was tangible and Myka could make it a part of herself.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. 'Twas only a dream," she finally managed.
Pressing a kiss to Myka's tangled curls, the older woman made a noise of disbelief. She merely waited, however, knowing Myka would speak in her own time.
Still seeing the images flickering like flame behind her eyes, Myka swallowed. "We were in the Warehouse together with Pete and Artie but…it was different. We were dressed so strangely and there were mechanical things I couldn't understand. And there was danger. An Artifact I think, somehow we were trapped and you…" Here Myka's voice hitched and she leaned back to look at her lover. In the moonlight, Helena's eyes were utterly fathomless and yet the Commander could read the other woman so easily.
"You saved us, but you sacrificed yourself to do it. You died…" Myka trailed off, words failing her as she relived those moments again, albeit distantly. The immediacy of the dream was fading gradually, but its affects lingered like the bitter taste of fear on her tongue.
Helena's response was to pull them both back down to the bed, re-arranging the covers and moving so the Agent lay against Helena's side, head pillowed on the older woman's shoulder and held tightly in the Captain's arms.
"'Tis just a dream darling I promise."
"I know that, it's just…I lost you. I was trapped and I just stood there, unable to do anything."
"But it wasn't real."
"I know but it felt real."
There was silence for a moment after Myka's confession. The only movement in the room was the gentle rhythm of Helena's hands along Myka's back, soothing her.
And then Helena spoke. Her voice held an edge and it inscribed her words in the darkness with an irrevocable and unshakable certainty.
"I would though. Save you. Always. No matter the cost."
Once again Myka's breath caught in her throat and she lifted up, staring at the woman who she could no longer imagine her life without.
"I know," the Commander found herself whispering. Because she did. With the utter certainty that she knew the sun would rise tomorrow and the earth would continue on its path through the heavens. "But I don't want to ever know what it is like to lose you….So could you maybe think about that too?"
Helena's eyes were endless skies in the soft light, but slowly a gentle smile stretched at full lips. Reaching up, the Captain brushed a lock of hair behind Myka's ear.
"I assure you darling, I am not so noble. I am rather fond of my own skin and am not interested in shuffling off this mortal coil needlessly." And then she guided Myka down to her and kissed her.
It started as mere reassurance; a promise to keep what time was given to them as precious and to hang on as tightly as possible to every moment. But, as it always was between them, it became something more. Somewhere between the gentle tangle of tongues and the racing of two hearts: Somewhere after lips trailing across moon-touched skin and shirts being stripped away: Somewhere during fingers trailing across the curves and hollows of two bodies, dipping into the shadows and drawing pleasure from the landscapes they found: Somewhere before Myka braced herself above Helena and watched her lover's face as she slipped inside her, feeling the silken wet heat of the other woman's body welcoming her and listening to the breathless pleas she made: Somewhere in the midst of all of that it became affirmation. It became a pledge. It became a plea.
It became - because it had always been - love.
Sometime later, as morning began to tint the sky outside with gentle shades of grey and pink the two women lay tangled together, hearts slowing in tandem and bodies pressed close.
It was Helena who broke the contented silence.
"Darling? Just what kinds of gadgets did they have in this dream?" the Captain asked with sly curiosity.
The only reply heard, however, was Helena's yelp as Myka used her tactical knowledge of the Captain's ticklish spots to get revenge.
The End