A/N: This idea popped into my head after watching "Regrets" and I had to write it. The idea of Pete and Myka being such solid support systems for each other just fills me with all kinds of warm fuzzies and I had to write this. So, I hope you like it, and please review if you read it. A lot of people have been favoriting my stories but not reviewing, and really, it would mean the world to me if you'd let me know what you think in a few sentences. It only takes a few seconds! Small disclaimer: I don't own Warehouse 13, or the characters. I just like to play with their emotions every now and again.


Pete and Myka stood frozen as the lights of the prison flickered, and the thunder of the storm crashed loudly. They both slowly turned to face the wall, and to their horror, the ghosts of past regrets were staring straight back at them. Myka saw Sam, complete with a bullet wound to the head, and Pete saw the ghost of his father, a disappointed expression on his face.

"Pete?" Myka asked quietly, and through the haze of guilt spreading over them both, Pete registered the fear in her voice.

With as much strength as he could muster, he fought the feeling creeping over him and reached for her hand, hoping he could tether them both to reality. His fingers found hers, and with a surprising speed, he felt her soft hand wrap around his, and hold on tight.

As soon as their skin made contact, he felt the fog break. Things were clearer, and he glanced at her to see a tear making its way down her cheek. "Myka, can you hear me?" He asked, not sure if she had been pulled back to the real world. "Myka?"

He felt her squeeze his hand, and he knew she could hear him. "Come on, let's get out of here." He said, pulling her with him as he hurried out of the room, wanting to find this artifact as fast as he could before the two of them had to face any more demons from their past.

Myka still seemed out of it, stumbling behind Pete as he pulled them down the corridor to the warden's office. As soon as they reached her door, the warden flung it shut, screaming. "Warden! What's wrong!" Myka cried, pounding on the door.

Pete saw the lights overhead flicker, and immediately he reached for Myka, pulling her closer to him by her waist.

"Pete, what…" Myka trailed off as she saw Pete's gaze focused on a spot in front of them and she knew what was about to happen. She shut her eyes tight, hoping she could just push the image away like it was a bad dream. Pete's arm was still around her waist and she gripped his free hand. "Close your eyes!" She said as the wind picked up and thunder boomed.

"Myka, whatever happens, don't listen to him okay, don't." Pete said quickly, shutting his eyes tightly like Myka had done. "And don't let go." He whispered, feeling the static pick up around them. It was going to happen again.

When nothing happened, he peeked open one eye and looked around. The room was empty. He looked at Myka, and saw her still with her eyes shut, but otherwise normal. "Myks." He said, squeezing her waist where he still held her, before letting go.

"Pete? What happened?" She asked, opening her eyes.

"Nothing, I guess."

"Let's try to find the artifact before it happens again, okay?" She said gently, and they both took off down the hall to where the old warden's things were stored.

Pete didn't let go of her hand.


They had decided to separate, after some inmates had taken it upon themselves to "free" the warden, and since then, one man had been shot, and the warden was going crazy. Pete had been wracking his brains trying to think of anything that could be the artifact, and suddenly, he had it.

He grabbed the large quartz cross with both hands and ran as fast as he could to the warden's office, but was hit with a vibe so strong that he couldn't have fought it if he wanted to. The lights flickered, and before he knew it, he was at the house where his father had been killed.

Pete heard the inmate's voice in his head, and he knew what he had to do to get out of here. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss you," he told his father, "but you would have gone whether I had said something or not."

With a few more parting words, Pete hugged his Dad for the last time, and in the blink of an eye, he was back in the prison, hearing the warden's screams from the office. Myka. The vibe hit him in the gut and he sprinted to the office, only to be met with Myka pointing a gun at him.

"Stay away from me, Sam!" She cried, and Pete saw the tears flowing freely down her face, and knew she wasn't in her right mind. He needed to get her back.

"Myka, listen to me." He said, moving out of her line of vision and standing behind her, "Myka, listen. This isn't your fault Myks, you did nothing wrong."

"Sam said I killed him." She said, her voice cracking.

Pete thought of how quickly he had pulled them out of this earlier, and deciding that it would be worth it if later she wanted to kick his ass for being too touchy feely, he grabbed her hand again. "No, Myka. You did everything right. He's dead because he made a mistake." He said, talking directly into her ear.

His heart swelled when he heard her telling Sam that it wasn't her fault, and that she needed to move on. When the vision ended, he caught her in his arms as she fell, and he held on tight as he felt her crying quietly against him.


The artifact had been neutralized, and order had been restored at the prison. Granted, it wasn't without a lot of pain for the both of them, but they had done their job.

Myka looked over at Pete and noticed how tired he seemed as he was driving. "You want me to take over?" She asked, and he sent a small smile her way.

"Nah, that's okay. I slept the whole flight back and I know you didn't. Why don't you get some sleep." He suggested, and she shook her head.

"Don't think I'll be sleeping for awhile." She said, and he frowned.

"Myka, if you want to talk about anything…"

"You're here for me, I know." She said, smiling thankfully at her partner. "I didn't get a chance to thank you, by the way, for getting me out of that back there." She said.

"That's what I'm here for," Pete said, shrugging, "You would have done the same for me."

"You did it twice." Myka said, and Pete's eyebrows knitted in confusion as he pulled into a gas station along the route from the airport to the Warehouse.

"What do you mean?" He asked, putting the car in park and turning to look at her fully.

"The time we both saw… whatever we saw, you grabbed my hand. You made me remember where I was and what needed to be done."

Pete shrugged, a faint color coming to his cheeks, "It was nothing. I just… I just thought it might help. You looked scared."

Myka looked at him intently for a few moments, trying to decide how to phrase what she wanted to say to him. She knew she hadn't been the easiest person to work with. When they were first partnered together, she wanted to be anywhere but at the Warehouse with him, and now she couldn't picture her life anywhere else. "Well, thank you. I'm starting to think we make a good team, Lattimer." She said, and was rewarded with a full smile from him.

"I'm starting to think that too." Pete said, grinning at her. In hindsight, he had filed this moment away as one of the moments when he had felt stirrings of a feeling for Myka that he knew wasn't going to go away any time soon.

He had felt it before, when Alice-Myka had kissed him in Vegas, and he hadn't exactly stopped her. He felt it before then too, when she saved him from the spine and told him, time and time again that she wasn't going to lose another partner.

Stop it, he chastised himself, knowing that if Myka could tell what he was thinking, she'd kill him. Smiling at her one more time, he got out of the car to get gas, and winked at Myka, gratified when he saw her laugh.

The rest of the way back to the warehouse they rode in companionable silence, every now and then singing along to whatever song came on the radio. Pete was glad to see Myka so carefree after the incident in Florida, and he knew these feelings he was having weren't going to go away anytime soon.

Somehow, he felt okay with that, knowing that the two of them could handle whatever was thrown their way.