Title: Stargazing

Rating: G

Pairing: Myka/HG

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I have any official association with Warehouse 13 or SyFy. I am not making any money.

Summary: Inspired by a tumblr graphic I didn't make, just appropriated. It can be found (if the link works) at my tumblr racethewind10(.)tumblr(.)com .com/post/16010408090/it-had-taken-a-while-ok-significantly-longer-than "

This is just a look at Myka, post season 3 finale.


It had taken a while – alright, significantly longer than a "while" - but eventually Myka found, much to her surprise, she loved South Dakota.

Or more specifically, she loved the nightsin South Dakota. There was something endlessly remarkable about being able to look up into the sky and see it. Gone was the never-ending muddy neon of the D.C. sky. Even Denver, as high as it was, had too much light; too many people. The stars had always been dimmed, as if painted with watercolors instead of oils.

Not here. Not above the B & B when on a crisp fall night Myka could look up into the heavens and feelthe beckoning of infinity. Millions, billions of stars splashed across the black velvet sky by an unknown hand. The scholar in her knew that many of those stars no longer existed; their light continued its journey through the cosmos alone, an unending memorial that would never return to its birthplace.

And as foolish and irrational as it might have been, that knowledge had always made Myka just a little sad. She ached at the beauty and loss as she imagined that someday - even if it was a million years from now - someone might stand in this very spot and look up at the stars she was seeing, and one might simply go out, its final light passing the visual field of earth's atmosphere never to return, but continuing to exist, just out of sight.

It was, she'd mused, a perfect metaphor for all life.

She'd almost resisted telling Helena about that perception. In the unrelenting light of day it seemed such a silly conceit. But one night, as they stood on the porch together watching the stars, Myka had spoken. She'd had a moment to feel utterly ridiculous - Helena was, after all, a scientist. Yet Helena was also a writer and a dreamer, and the look in her dark eyes in that moment had been more beautiful than any vision of the Milky Way.

But that had been…before.

Nothing is the same now.


The night air is just beginning to bite but Myka doesn't move from her spot on the porch. Forest green eyes scan the sky, searching for what, the agent truly couldn't say.

Whatever it was, she doesn't find it.

The glittering heavens hold no awe anymore. The beautiful tapestry of birth, life and death painted above her has lost the power to move her.

All Myka sees now is ashes; ashes scattered across a soot-blackened floor.

Reaching up to wrap her fingers around Helena's locket where it rests in its customary place at her neck, Myka Bering turns away from the peaceful night and walks back into the B & B, shutting the door softly behind her.

Star gazing holds no appeal for her, now that she has no one to share it with.