DISCLAIMER: Warehouse 13 and its characters are the property of the SyFy Channel. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: You need to know Warehouse 13 for this to make sense, but I don't think you need to be familiar with Fringe. Just know that there are alternate universes, where things are largely the same, but a little different. Takes place about a year after the Warehouse 13 Season 3 finale, and at some vague point during Season 4 for Fringe.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To mysensitiveside[at]yahoo.com

Worth the Wait
By mysensitiveside


The waiting is impossible. Myka knows that Olivia hadn't actually meant to be cruel; but really, giving just a slight hint of information, a slight hint of hope, but then refusing to give any details?

Seriously cruel.

But now Myka has no choice but to wait.

*Three days earlier*

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dunham. I clearly saved your ass today." Myka smirked at the FBI agent, who merely rolled her eyes in response.

They'd first met four years earlier, at a multi-agency "new frontiers in artillery science" conference, and had continued to cross paths numerous times, especially once their respective careers each took a turn for the bizarre.

Their teams seemed to be interested in the same kinds of weirdness; sometimes it was an artifact, and sometimes it was what Olivia called a "Fringe event" – Olivia had never bothered to explain what that actually meant, though, and Myka had known better than to ask.

This time, they'd both been hunting for the reason behind a sudden outbreak of typhoid fever in a small New England town. Of greater interest to Myka, up until the fever reached dangerous levels, the residents appeared to become entirely convinced that it was 1863, and they were in the middle of fighting the Civil War. Most unfortunately, the town just happened to have a Civil War museum, ready and waiting to be raided for weapons.

"I'll have you know that I'm quite capable of fighting off guys who are about to kill me with a bayonet," Olivia countered. "I had it completely under control, before you did whatever it is that you do."

Myka laughed. It was easy to find the situation funny, now that they were no longer in mortal danger, but they really were very lucky that more people hadn't died before she and Pete were able to neutralize Clara Barton's thermometer.

"Well in any case, it's been a while since I ran into you," Myka continued. "Got any new good entries for the 'my job is the weirdest' hall of fame?"

It was a game they played, whenever they happened to meet up. First, solve whatever case they were on; then, go out for a drink and share just a small tidbit about the crazy lives they lived. No questions allowed.

Olivia sipped at her scotch as she thought the question over. "I've met my own doppelganger, and she seriously screwed up my life for a while. Now I can't quite decide whether I hate her, or am fascinated by her," Olivia offered impassively, as if such a comment were completely normal. "What about you?"

Once Olivia took the route of 'strange people I've met,' there was really only one thing that Myka could think of. It still hurt to think about her, after all this time. Even so, she took a large swallow of wine and then tried to maintain a relaxed tone as she began, "I've met, in person, the actual H.G. Wells, who just happens to be-"

"A woman," Olivia interrupted with a smile. "I've actually heard about that."

Myka felt like she couldn't breathe.

Her shock must have shown across her face, because Olivia grimaced, continuing, "And I'm guessing that I'm not supposed to know that bit of information?"

Myka blinked a few times, and her breath came out in a rush, before she found herself sputtering, "How- How on Earth could you know that? No one knows that, except for my team."

Olivia took a healthy swig from her glass, and then stared uncomfortably into the amber liquid. "My doppelganger kind of met her," she explained, "and then told me about it."

Myka frowned. She didn't really know what Olivia meant by "doppelganger," in this context, but regardless... Myka had told H.G. about her meetings with Olivia, so if H.G. had met someone similar, then why hadn't she said so?

"When?" she demanded. None of this was making any sense.

Olivia hesitantly met her eyes as she replied, "I don't know, maybe six months ago."

Myka almost dropped her glass, which she'd been raising to her lips. "What?" she asked faintly. "Olivia, that's...impossible. About a year ago, I..." She could barely say it, even now. "I watched her die, right in front of me."

Olivia winced. "Shit. Myka, I'm sorry. I always knew this game of ours was just asking for trouble." The blonde ran an awkward hand through her hair. She was clearly uncomfortable, but it was also obvious that she knew a lot more than Myka did, and suddenly it all felt too overwhelming. Myka pushed her chair slightly back from the table, leaning over to place her head in her hands.

Straightening back up again, Myka looked Olivia squarely in the eye. "I know we're not supposed to ask questions," she began, just barely staying on the calm side of frantic. "But Helena..." Myka paused, before reaching out to place both of her hands on top of Olivia's. The blonde, not exactly the touchy-feely type, tried to pull back, but Myka held on. "She really meant an incredible amount to me, and if you know something that I don't, if there's any chance at all that... You have to tell me. Please."

Olivia stared at her regretfully. "I understand what it's like, losing someone you care about," she empathized. Myka didn't doubt it. Though their post-case meetings were usually casual and lighthearted, Myka had always felt, somehow, that the stoic FBI agent had a sad history.

"But still," Olivia continued, "I really shouldn't get into any of this with anyone."

"Get into any of what with anyone? Olivia, you haven't really said anything!" Myka cried out in frustration.

Olivia gently pulled her hand away to finish the last of her drink, then went back to staring at Myka, clearly torn.

Finally, she shook her head wryly as, with a sigh, she said, "I could get in a lot of trouble for this, but you did save my ass today. And the bureau owes you a lot, considering all the times you and Agent Lattimer have assisted with a case. So I can't promise you anything, and I can't give you any more details right now, but I'll see what I can do, okay?"

Myka was so confused. What could Olivia possibly promise her? What the hell was going on?

Still, she found herself nodding absently in response to Olivia's question.

"Okay," she continued. "It'll be simplest if you can arrange to stay in New York City for a few days." She laughed dryly to herself. "Broyles is so going to kill me. She better be worth it, this Helena of yours."

Myka still had no idea what the 'it' was that Helena should be worth, but she held no doubts at all when she responded simply, "She is."

*Present day*

Myka feels like she's ready to explode. She's been cooped up in her hotel room for three days, barely leaving at all, in case Olivia tries to contact her. She's heard absolutely nothing, though, since she texted Olivia to say where she'd be.

She doesn't allow herself to think about what it might mean if Olivia hadn't made a mistake when she said that her "doppelganger" saw H.G. six months ago. She doesn't allow herself to think about what it is that Olivia could possibly be trying to do. She doesn't allow herself to think about what she'll do if Olivia returns only to say that she couldn't do anything, and she still can't answer any questions.

She just paces, and tries to distract herself, and waits.

Pete had wanted to come keep her company – though she wouldn't tell him or anyone else what was going on (since she didn't even know what was going on), he'd still known that something was up – but she'd convinced him to let her do this alone. Myka somewhat regrets that decision, now, since she knows that Pete would have been good about keeping her mind off things, with his goofy antics.

Though she's been trying not to, Myka finally relaxes back into a comfortable chair and lets herself think about Helena.

They had been friends; things had certainly gone awry after H.G.'s betrayal in Egypt and attempt to destroy the world, but H.G. had fixed everything in the end, and overall, they'd been good friends. As for the fact that Myka's feelings towards the inventor weren't like her feelings for other friends, well... Myka had written it off as hero worship. A simple, platonic, girlcrush.

It hadn't been until the moment when she found herself within that barrier that Helena had created, with Helena and the bomb stuck on the wrong side, that Myka realized there was nothing platonic at all about the way she felt.

The realization came too late.

Myka had fallen into a light sleep, when she's startled into consciousness by a knock at the door. At first she thinks that she must have imagined it – it's happened a few times already – but she hurries over anyway and yanks the door open.

Olivia stands on the other side, but her facial expression reveals nothing. Before Myka can look around or really do anything, the FBI agent calmly ushers her back into the room and closes the door.

"Before this happens, we have to go over a few quick things."

Myka's heart rate spikes.

"I cannot tell you how this is possible." Olivia pauses, but Myka still has absolutely no idea what's going on. "I can't," Olivia continues, "but that doesn't mean that someone else can't tell you instead. Okay? But whatever anyone else may tell you, you can tell your team, but no one else – absolutely, with no exceptions – can ever find out. Do you understand?"

Myka blinks. "No, not at all."

Finally, Olivia cracks a small smile. "You will," she assures. With that, she goes and puts her hand on the doorknob. Looking back towards Myka, she adds, "She's going to be a little different, just be aware of that," before opening the door and nodding her head to someone outside.

Myka feels like she's going to faint, as H.G. Wells tentatively steps into the hotel room. Sure that she must be dreaming, Myka immediately shuts her eyes, keeping them closed while she tries to get a hold of herself.

"Myka? Darling, is that really you?"

Myka opens her eyes, and though the world in front of her is blurred with tears, there was no mistaking that voice.

"Oh, Myka!" Before Myka can even begin to process anything else, Helena is rushing forward and wrapping her up tightly in a hug. "I can't..." H.G. continues, "I can hardly believe this. They told me you would be here, but I couldn't truly believe until I saw for myself. Oh, Myka, how I've missed you!"

Myka can only gape over Helena's shoulder at Olivia, who smiles at them, then nods her head and exits the room.

Helena tilts her head to press a hard kiss to Myka's cheek before pulling back to look at her. Her own eyes are also full of tears, but she reaches out to gently wipe Myka's damp cheeks.

"How?" Myka finally manages to croak out. "You died!"

At most, Helena looks simply confused at this information. "I did?" Of all possible reactions, Myka wouldn't have expected Helena to laugh, but that's just what she does. She smiles brightly as she continues, "I haven't quite made sense of it all, but they told me that there are multiple worlds out there." Her gaze darkens only as she says, "In mine, you were the one who died."

Myka has no idea how to react to that, but it doesn't matter anyway, because then Helena is pressing forward once again, taking Myka's face in both of her hands as she crushes their lips together.

It takes a moment for Myka to recover from shock, but once she does, she returns the kiss with equal fervor. It tastes of longing, and joy, and loss, and hope.

As Helena reluctantly draws back, Myka can only stare and raise her fingers to lightly touch her lips in bewilderment.

Something in Myka's expression causes Helena to laugh brightly once again, and she comments, "Darling, why do you look like we've never done that before?"

Myka clears her throat, but she's embarrassed to find that her voice still comes out fairly squeaky when she responds, "Um, because we haven't?"

"Oh, bollocks," H.G. mutters. "They warned me that your life would be different, but... I shouldn't have done that. Myka, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Myka exhales, and giving up on her attempts at understanding what the hell is going on, she steps forward and pulls Helena into another kiss. One of Helena's hands slips around to the back of Myka's neck and the other wraps possessively around her waist, while Myka sinks both of her hands into H.G.'s hair.

There will be time to figure things out. Time to understand what this all means.

But for now, Myka's world centers on the woman in her arms. The rest can wait.

The End

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