I'm new to WH13 fanfiction, although I've written for many other fandoms. Please let me know what you think! I hope Myka's in character, I found her a bit hard to write without putting too much of myself into her. Also, I totally talk to myself for therapy, as I'm sure many people do, so that's where that came from (read the story and that statement will make sense). Please review! =] Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing and this is just for fun, not profit.

"Oh, Myka, what are you going to do with yourself?" The mirror offers no answer, of course, but it makes her feel like she has someone to talk to. She gazes at herself, exhausted but too wired to sleep, and she's surprised at just how unlike herself she looks: smudged mascara, curls in all directions, and a look in her eyes that is so deeply sad that it scares even her.

She sighs, turns away from the mirror, unwilling to see herself any longer. She walks out of her room and out onto the veranda. There's no one out here at this time of night, and she takes a seat and gazes at the stars outside. They truly are out in the middle of nowhere, she thinks, but in an odd way it's comforting.

She's whispering to herself again, telling herself what happened today, how Pete almost died, and how she could do nothing but stand there and watch. How for hours afterward all she could do was think about how she would have gone through the pain of losing another partner. If she's completely honest with herself, she's not sure that she could have done it again.

She quiets her voice so that she can barely hear herself, a desperate attempt to keep the tears at bay. It's a rare thing for her to cry, and she certainly isn't going to give in without a fight. Especially when she feels like she doesn't deserve to let it out, not when it's her fault that Pete got in his situation; the spine only attached to Pete because he had pushed her out of harm's way, and suddenly she had been in another place, another time, when someone else had died because of her, someone she had loved and lost.


She starts involuntarily, surprised that any one is out here at this time of night. She stops whispering to herself immediately and hears Pete's footsteps make their way around the couch she's sitting on and stop beside her.

"You okay?" The words are drawn out in typical Pete-fashion, strong but gentle.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says. The words mean nothing, she feels nothing when she says them, the response automatic after a lifetime of suppressed emotions. She is her father's daughter, after all, and she had quickly learned that pretending was easier and less painful than the truth.

Pete lets the lie slide, by now familiar with her demeanor. He tries another approach. "Who were you talking to?"

She ignores his question, though, not wanting to touch on that just yet. "You're the one who almost died. How are you?"

He's not surprised by the change of subject and humors her, understanding her need for control, even if it's just over a conversation.

"Eh, not too bad. Bit sore, but nothing some rest won't fix," he replies honestly. If he can't be honest with her, he figures, he can't expect her honesty in return. He sits down beside her but leaves her space.

"So why are you out here? You should be resting," she tells him. Always practical, always rational. Anything less is unacceptable. Anything less gets people killed.

"I heard you come out, figured I'd join you. Then I walked up and heard mumbling and knew I was right to come out because you must be going loony." There's a faint hint of teasing is his voice, but she hears the genuine concern there too.

She lowers her gaze, absently playing with her fingers, though there is a slight smile on her face. "I find it therapeutic."

"Talking to yourself at all hours of the night?"


"Why?" Myka is both exasperated and amused; his questioning her can be annoying, but it's undeniably sweet when she considers why he must be doing it.

She'd love to come clean to him, to tell him everything she's thinking, feeling, but she can't. She had tried to once, and all that had led to was a pretty casket and regrets. So she settles on the least revealing answer she can come up with, trying at the very least to be honest at the same time.

"It's a release," she finally tells him, and she leaves it at that. She wants to add that she's always talked to herself, simply because she never has anyone else to talk to. But she says nothing, and they sit there for long moments, not knowing exactly what to say to each other.

"I'm glad you're okay," she adds. She's not exactly sure what prompted her to tell him so, but she tells herself it's because any person would be happy that their partner hadn't been electrocuted or killed by a mysterious artifact. She's not sure she believes herself.

"Yeah, it's nice to not be dead," he smiles at her, trying to turn the topic away from him.

"Really glad," she pushes, unsure of why she won't drop it. Testing the waters, perhaps? Until thirty seconds ago she hadn't wanted to reveal anything at all, and now she can't shut herself up. That's another flaw she possesses; besides being distant, her emotions are erratic, although no one would ever guess so. She supposes it's because she doesn't allow them the chance.

"I know," Pete replies, fully serious this time. The intensity with which he looks at her frightens her, and her emotions do another 180, again guarding her, keeping her from reaching out to him any farther.

"I should get to bed," Myka says, breaking the moment. "It's late." She stands up and looks to Pete, wishing him a goodnight as he stands up beside her.

A nod is her only response, and she starts walking away from him to go back to her room. But as she walks past him he gently grabs her hand, pulling her back and turning her to face him.

"When you feel the need to talk to someone besides yourself, I'm here," he tells her. He offers her a soft smile. "Goodnight."

Unsure of how to respond, she heads back to her room as deeply in thought as when she left it. But it's with a new hope, a new feeling. Looking back at Pete, she thinks that just maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel after all.

I can definitely see this show becoming my newest obsession (after Harper's Island). I wanted to add on to Burnout, so I hope you enjoyed. =]