DISCLAIMER: The characters herein are used without permission. No infringement intended.
SPOILERS: Assumes events up to, and including, season 3.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To winter156[at]gmail.com

By winter156


The storm had amassed without warning. Clear, sunny skies obscured by threatening, dark thunderheads. Within minutes, the afternoon was swallowed up in darkness and heaven poured out its tears. The storm continued unabated seemingly in ablution of transgressions committed in a world that knew no clemency.

A flash of lightning disturbed the unbroken darkness illuminating a still figure looking out into a gray, washed out country side. Sequestered in the library, Myka's eyes followed the rivulets of water coursing down the window lost in memories of better yesterdays. Her mind conjured memories of a fledgling love, happy friendships, and hopeful futures. Memories that turned dark as reality began to seep back into Myka's consciousness.

Despite everything (or perhaps, because of everything that had happened), Myka finally understood some of the emotion Helena constantly battled against. The fear, the guilt, the betrayal, the disappointment, and the overwhelming loneliness. She could finally appreciate Helena's time in bronze. An almost metaphysical place where there was no voice, no sound, no noise. A place where only silence existed. A silence that invariably spoke to you. Myka sometimes experienced moments like that. Quiet moments when she was transported to a place where her loneliness and thoughts became corporeal beings and kept her company.

Agent Bering had returned to the Warehouse, sure of herself and her ability. She could stand stalwart against the whisper at the back of her mind that told her she had failed and was broken. But in those quiet moments alone, when Agent Bering was just Myka, apathy lurked at the edge of her consciousness. During moments of weakness, she wanted nothing more than to fall into that chasm of nothingness. She longed to lose herself to indifference. She needed a place within herself where numbness would quell the sting of betrayal and the pain of regret.

In those moments, her resolve wavered. Her thoughts bounced off the walls of her mind, bombarding her with the need to give in, the need to succumb to the promise of nothing. That need burned in her blood to the beat of her broken heart. Myka was beginning to fear those quiet, introspective moments because the silence was becoming deafening; and the need to succumb was beginning to sound enticing.

The End

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