Title: The Ghost of You
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Summary: Helena is gone, but for Myka the Warehouse is still full of memories of her.
Note: Takes place directly after episode 3x01 "The New Guy".
After her betrayal, the common areas of the Warehouse had been combed through and all traces of Helena G. Wells removed.
The spare pair of heeled boots that had resided on the floor beside the recliner for months were gone.
The gaudy War of the Worlds mug Helena favored at tea time was nowhere to be found.
The table strewn with do-dads and what's-it's that had serviced as Helena's work station was now bare.
The worn leather jacket that Helena had loved so much no longer hung lazily over Artie's chair (and it had always been Artie's chair because Helena knew it bothered him).
The coloured pens that Helena had delighted in were no longer spread around the office, the faint scent of lavender no longer hovered in the air, and post-it notes with messages like 'How do you stop gravity from being such a drag?' were no longer stuck all around office.
All traces of Helena had been sanitized, but as soon as Myka walked back into the Warehouse, she realized that despite the physical absence of Helena and her 'things', that Helena's presence was still everywhere.
Helena's boots no longer lay on the floor by the recliner, but just seeing the recliner reminded Myka of them. It reminded Myka of kneeling on the floor between Helena's legs in her room at the B&B, slowly, teasingly running her fingers up the leather boots as Helena's dark eyes regarded her covetously, her wonderfully pouty lips slightly parted with longing. Just thinking of the missing boots reminded Myka how her body had shivered when Helena breathily exhaled, "Darling, please," and how she had hastily tugged off Helena's boots before surging up to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. Just seeing the recliner made Myka's heart ache with longing to be in Helena's arms once again.
Helena's War of the Worlds mug was gone, but every time Leena made a pot of tea, Myka would think about it. She would think about how she had hummed and hawed over whether or not to buy the mug for Helena, and then about how nervous she had been when she handed the gift-wrapped box to Helena one night as they sat together in the B&B's library.
Helena had looked down at the present in her hands and smiled. Myka had known that it was a ridiculous reaction to have, but her heart had actually stopped beating when Helena smiled at her, and when Helena had whispered, "A present? For me?" in the soft, vulnerable tone of voice that Myka only heard when she and Helena were alone together, Myka's cheeks flushed.
The gentle, the almost shy quality that had entered Helena's voice made Myka's stomach flutter with butterflies, but despite the havoc Helena's voice and smile were wreaking, Myka managed to mumble, "I just thought you might like it. You said you didn't have too many things and, I don't know, I guess I thought that maybe this could, you know … be a thing … that you could have. Just for you," she added before self-consciously whispering, "It's probably stupid," under her breath a moment later.
Feeling vaguely humiliated by her rambling Myka started to withdraw into herself, but before she could make an excuse and awkwardly escape, Helena reached out and touched her arm. Her thumb stroked the upper part of Myka's arm fondly, and then, smiling gently, Helena drew her hand down Myka's arm drawing a small, bashful smile from Myka. When their fingers met, Helena twined them together, and then looking directly into Myka's eyes she whispered "Thank you," before leaning forward to kiss Myka's cheek.
In the wake of Helena's sweet kiss, Myka blushed and focused her attention on trying to stop the large smile that wanted to break out across her lips from actually breaking out across her lips, while Helena – still wearing a smile herself – turned her attention to the box in her hands and started to unwrap it. Upon seeing what was inside, Helena released a delighted laugh and regarded Myka with dancing eyes for a moment before drawing her into another hug, and with her face safely hidden from view, Myka finally stopped fighting and smiled so widely that her face hurt afterwards.
But it wasn't just what was missing that brought Helena to the forefront of Myka's mind. For every absent item that made her heart ache, there was something present that brought Helena to mind.
The Farnsworth reminded Myka of Helena flashing her over it when Myka had gone to Georgia to retrieve a malevolent tea pot.
Pete's swivel chair reminded Myka of Helena sitting in her lap after hours as Myka used her legs to push them around the office. Wheeled chairs hadn't been around before Helena was bronzed and they had amused her terribly. Myka had always thought that they were a bit too old for such shenanigans, but it made Helena smile and laugh, and other than finding artifacts, making Helena smile and laugh was Myka's main preoccupation.
Even the bits and pieces of Claudia's experiments that lay scattered around the office reminded Myka of Helena.
The nuts and bolts and various drivers made Myka think of waking in the night and stretching out her arm for Helena only to find empty mattress because Helena was awake and tinkering with something at her desk.
On those nights, Myka used to stay in bed for a few minutes just watching Helena work, basking in her lover's moonlit beauty before finally throwing the blanket off of her and padding over to Helena. Approaching her from behind, Myka often used to brush the dark cape of Helena's hair aside, and then she would lean down and press her lips gently to Helena's shoulder before kissing her way up her neck.
Helena's neck was sensitive and the feel of Myka's lips on it had made Helena twitch and laugh, and before long she would turn and let Myka capture her lips.
The kisses they shared were always soft and sweet, and inevitably Myka would find herself whispering, "Come back to bed, baby. There'll still be gadgets to invent in the morning," and Helena would smile and take her hand before leading her back to bed.
Myka was ashamed to admit it, but Helena's smiles had fooled her. When she awoke to find Helena already awake and jotting down notes, or tinkering with gadgets, or staring out the window, she had believed Helena when the woman had smiled at her and purred, "It's just my keen inventor's mind, darling. It's always whirling and twirling … a perpetual motion mind. Pay no attention, it's my natural state of being," as she drew her arms around Myka and hugged her tightly.
It was only when everything went to hell that Myka learned – in the most extreme and devastating of ways – how deeply troubled the loss of Christina and a century in bronze had left Helena.
She had been blind to the nightmares and madness that plagued Helena in the dark hours of the night when the distractions the world offered her brain were absent. She had been deaf to the significance of the ice that came into Helena's voice when she watched the news and quoted Edgar Allen Poe's thoughts on how humanity had simply become more active, not more happy, nor more wise than it was six thousand years ago. Helena's light had burned so brightly that Myka hadn't been able to see the shadows prowling the periphery of her being, and when she finally had become aware of the darkness inside of Helena it had been too late.
Myka sighed and closed her eyes.
Helena and Helena's things were gone, but she lived on in the Warehouse in Myka's memories. Helena was out of sight but she was never out of mind, and as Myka sat down in the recliner with a new case file in her hand and longed for the scent of lavender, she realized that she was going to have to get used to living with Helena's ghost.