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seriousfic) wrote2012-07-22 07:05 pm
seriousfic) wrote2012-07-22 07:05 pm
Entry tags:
Warehouse 13 AU: Persist In Folly (6/9)
Title: Persist In Folly
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,474
Characters/Pairings: Myka/HG
Previous: Part 5
Next: Part 7
Summary: Helena sets a trap. Myka already sprung one.
The diner was not behaving like a diner. The blinds were drawn. The cooks were gone. The waitresses sat down and the customers paced like they were caged.
The Regents were angry.
"I told you. I told you! Wells is a rabid dog and you can't cure a rabid! You just put it down!"
"Yes, the current leadership has been far too lenient on this repeat offender! I believe a restructuring of hierarchy is called for!"
"Enough!" Kosan called with a slap of his palm upon the table. "No one here bears responsibility for her actions. It was the responsibility of our forebears and they faltered, allowing us to inherit this misfortune. Now, will we pass on this plague to our sons and daughters, or will we resolve the situation forever?"
"A kill-order?" Jane Lattimer asked. "There hasn't been one of those put out in three hundred years. Even MacPherson was given the mercy of being bronzed."
"MacPherson never presented the threat that Wells does."
"You mean he never threatened you. Is this what it's come to? The Warehouse has always operated outside the system, but never above the law."
"For God's sake, Jane. We all voted to neutralize this threat once, what do you hope to accomplish by revisiting the issue now that the threat has grown?"
"I suppose I just want to know who I should hold accountable."
Jane took the thimble off her finger.
Helena didn't smile. Not anymore. But if she did, watching the Regents claw over each other to get away from her… that would be a big one. Myka-big. Christina-big.
Then the guards rushed in. More of their fearfulness. The Regents never would've drawn attention to themselves with an entourage in Helena's day. They pointed guns at her. Chintzy little inventions of no elegance. But she raised her hands to be polite.
"Calm, calm. I have no weapons. Just this." She opened her hand and dropped a leaf on the table. "Would you like some? I have plenty for all of you. It's moly."
"I don't care if it's Eartha Kitt, back away from it!" the strappingest guard said.
Helena obligingly backed away. "So I take it you don't want any?"
"Shut the hell up!"
"Or to hear what it does," she muttered.
"Kill her now! Shoot her!" one of the Regents stuttered. Helena thought it was the one who'd used the Janus Coin on her.
"Before you hear what I've done?"
"What have you done?"
"Beaten you."
"Someone hit her! That'll make her cooperate!"
One of the guards must've thought it a good idea. He leapt up to slap Helena across the face.
Helena smiled with the pain. "I don't know about cooperation, but I could recommend a good book. The Odyssey, perhaps?"
"Shoot her if she doesn't tell us what she's up to!" Kosan growled.
A lot of guns cocked. Many a guard had had the same thought on how to intimidate Helena.
"Very well. The Cliff's Notes. On the island of Aeaea, the witch Circe found her realm constantly despoiled by men. They would come to her island and steal from her all that she cherished. Finally, Circe decided that if men would act as animals, then they must look as animals, else they be mistaken for thinking creatures. The only way Odysseus could resist falling under her spell was holding onto a leaf of moly. I don't suppose any of you brought your own?"
Guns hit the floor. Hard to hold onto them without opposable thumbs.
Helena put her hands down. "It's like I've always said. Reading a good book is its own reward."
***
Myka drank her herbal tea. It was good for the baby.
What else could she do? Not hunt Helena. Not think of her as a target, no, never. She could only chronicle the atrocities.
She hadn't been surprised to hear about Helena's turn. She hadn't been numb either—that was a Sam feeling, a pain that came all at once, previewed itself, then settled down to a slow boil, to explode in painstaking slowness, like an old minefield being cleared.
This pain was buried so deep that Myka thought it wouldn't surface until the day she died. It would kill her.
Because she'd known. Deep down, she'd known, and deep down she'd chosen not to know. Helena could never give up Christina; how could she give up the memory of her? And the Regents couldn't be trusted. Artie and Mrs. Fredric and Jane, they wrapped up the Warehouse in layers of comforting family, but nothing that powerful could help but attract the kind of people who needed power. Who needed more power. Especially over people who wouldn't submit to them.
The equation had a predictable solution. Two and two equaled four, unless Helena needed them to be five. Helena and Myka and the baby—it never added up. An unsolvable equation. Myka multiplied it and divided it and subtracted and added.
What could Myka do? What could she do? She'd tortured herself after Sam's death, seeing the obvious answers—be quicker, be smarter, be better, be perfect. Now here she was, watching Helena die, self-destruct, and there was no answer. No matter what she did or who she was, the bullet had been fired a long time ago and all she'd ever done was delay the inevitable. It couldn't be deflected or blocked. It would find its mark. The only question was what god could be sadistic enough to grant Helena a reprieve just long enough to barter a piece of Myka's heart to die with her own?
And yet, they really were two of a kind. As Helena could never let go of Christina, Myka could never let go of her, not even bear the thought of never having met her. In the end, it was the same choice and it doomed them both. Hold on, even as the weight dragged them down, even as the coal burnt their hands, even as they drowned in tears.
It was a thoughtless decision. Geniuses made the best dunces, and at heart, Myka had learned, everyone was a fool.
Myka dropped a hand to her belly and wondered how she'd ever tell the little one about her mother, the woman so cursed she lost both her daughters. "I am fortune's fool," she said softly, "and so are you."
Myka heard the ping of an Artifact popping up. Ironically, that was even more depressing. She wasn't even in enough of a funk to stop doing her job.
"What've we got?" Myka asked Claudia, who always rushed in when she heard anything from her computers other than the cooling fan.
Claudia looked at the screen, eyes wide. "Nothing!" she said, face frozen with eyes still wide. "Just the Mystery Spot acting up again. I got it."
"It's her, isn't it?" Myka couldn't even say the name. Couldn't let her still be Helena, couldn't return her to being HG.
"I'm not good at feelings. I was trying to spare yours." Claudia turned the monitor to face Myka.
She didn't look at it. Not yet. "What'd she do this time?" Myka vented. "Tie Polly Pureheart to the train tracks? Burn down an orphanage? Spit on a nun?"
"Transformed the Regents into zoo animals."
Myka snapped her fingers. "Exactly!"
"No, I mean, they're going 'baa'."
Myka grabbed onto the monitor as she looked at it closely. "Class XX Artifact. Treasurer notified—who's the Treasurer?"
"Another of the Regents' fifty Grand Poobahs? Seriously, those guys have more VPs than an oil company." Myka glared at Claudia. "Mood lightened? I'm bad at the feels. I said so."
"Class XXs are the Deathly Hallows of the Artifact world." Myka stood, for once not noticing the weight of her baby bump. "Why would she waste one on an act of vengeance?"
"Because she's cuck—I'm not Pete."
Myka spun the monitor back to Claudia. "How many pings get kicked up to the Treasurer?"
Claudia's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Checking… nada, just Class XX. And none of those have surfaced in sixty years. The Spear of Destiny—whoa. Open in new tab."
"Focus, Claudia."
"But this explains how Hitler got in the Bronze Sector!"
"Is Pete on this?"
"No. He and Steve are… still in Nebraska, doing cover story work."
"Since when do Agents do cover-ups?" Myka was already going to get her purse. "Is the Treasurer going after this one himself?"
"I think so. Northern Montana just got a do not disturb sign hung on it."
"Call the boys. Don't use the vids, call them. Tell them to meet me in Montana. H.G.'s setting a trap."
"So you're going into it?"
"It's not for me."
Claudia watched her go, a little enviously, then dialed Steve on her iPhone. "Steve? I found out how Hitler got in the Bronze Sector."
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,474
Characters/Pairings: Myka/HG
Previous: Part 5
Next: Part 7
Summary: Helena sets a trap. Myka already sprung one.
The diner was not behaving like a diner. The blinds were drawn. The cooks were gone. The waitresses sat down and the customers paced like they were caged.
The Regents were angry.
"I told you. I told you! Wells is a rabid dog and you can't cure a rabid! You just put it down!"
"Yes, the current leadership has been far too lenient on this repeat offender! I believe a restructuring of hierarchy is called for!"
"Enough!" Kosan called with a slap of his palm upon the table. "No one here bears responsibility for her actions. It was the responsibility of our forebears and they faltered, allowing us to inherit this misfortune. Now, will we pass on this plague to our sons and daughters, or will we resolve the situation forever?"
"A kill-order?" Jane Lattimer asked. "There hasn't been one of those put out in three hundred years. Even MacPherson was given the mercy of being bronzed."
"MacPherson never presented the threat that Wells does."
"You mean he never threatened you. Is this what it's come to? The Warehouse has always operated outside the system, but never above the law."
"For God's sake, Jane. We all voted to neutralize this threat once, what do you hope to accomplish by revisiting the issue now that the threat has grown?"
"I suppose I just want to know who I should hold accountable."
Jane took the thimble off her finger.
Helena didn't smile. Not anymore. But if she did, watching the Regents claw over each other to get away from her… that would be a big one. Myka-big. Christina-big.
Then the guards rushed in. More of their fearfulness. The Regents never would've drawn attention to themselves with an entourage in Helena's day. They pointed guns at her. Chintzy little inventions of no elegance. But she raised her hands to be polite.
"Calm, calm. I have no weapons. Just this." She opened her hand and dropped a leaf on the table. "Would you like some? I have plenty for all of you. It's moly."
"I don't care if it's Eartha Kitt, back away from it!" the strappingest guard said.
Helena obligingly backed away. "So I take it you don't want any?"
"Shut the hell up!"
"Or to hear what it does," she muttered.
"Kill her now! Shoot her!" one of the Regents stuttered. Helena thought it was the one who'd used the Janus Coin on her.
"Before you hear what I've done?"
"What have you done?"
"Beaten you."
"Someone hit her! That'll make her cooperate!"
One of the guards must've thought it a good idea. He leapt up to slap Helena across the face.
Helena smiled with the pain. "I don't know about cooperation, but I could recommend a good book. The Odyssey, perhaps?"
"Shoot her if she doesn't tell us what she's up to!" Kosan growled.
A lot of guns cocked. Many a guard had had the same thought on how to intimidate Helena.
"Very well. The Cliff's Notes. On the island of Aeaea, the witch Circe found her realm constantly despoiled by men. They would come to her island and steal from her all that she cherished. Finally, Circe decided that if men would act as animals, then they must look as animals, else they be mistaken for thinking creatures. The only way Odysseus could resist falling under her spell was holding onto a leaf of moly. I don't suppose any of you brought your own?"
Guns hit the floor. Hard to hold onto them without opposable thumbs.
Helena put her hands down. "It's like I've always said. Reading a good book is its own reward."
***
Myka drank her herbal tea. It was good for the baby.
What else could she do? Not hunt Helena. Not think of her as a target, no, never. She could only chronicle the atrocities.
She hadn't been surprised to hear about Helena's turn. She hadn't been numb either—that was a Sam feeling, a pain that came all at once, previewed itself, then settled down to a slow boil, to explode in painstaking slowness, like an old minefield being cleared.
This pain was buried so deep that Myka thought it wouldn't surface until the day she died. It would kill her.
Because she'd known. Deep down, she'd known, and deep down she'd chosen not to know. Helena could never give up Christina; how could she give up the memory of her? And the Regents couldn't be trusted. Artie and Mrs. Fredric and Jane, they wrapped up the Warehouse in layers of comforting family, but nothing that powerful could help but attract the kind of people who needed power. Who needed more power. Especially over people who wouldn't submit to them.
The equation had a predictable solution. Two and two equaled four, unless Helena needed them to be five. Helena and Myka and the baby—it never added up. An unsolvable equation. Myka multiplied it and divided it and subtracted and added.
What could Myka do? What could she do? She'd tortured herself after Sam's death, seeing the obvious answers—be quicker, be smarter, be better, be perfect. Now here she was, watching Helena die, self-destruct, and there was no answer. No matter what she did or who she was, the bullet had been fired a long time ago and all she'd ever done was delay the inevitable. It couldn't be deflected or blocked. It would find its mark. The only question was what god could be sadistic enough to grant Helena a reprieve just long enough to barter a piece of Myka's heart to die with her own?
And yet, they really were two of a kind. As Helena could never let go of Christina, Myka could never let go of her, not even bear the thought of never having met her. In the end, it was the same choice and it doomed them both. Hold on, even as the weight dragged them down, even as the coal burnt their hands, even as they drowned in tears.
It was a thoughtless decision. Geniuses made the best dunces, and at heart, Myka had learned, everyone was a fool.
Myka dropped a hand to her belly and wondered how she'd ever tell the little one about her mother, the woman so cursed she lost both her daughters. "I am fortune's fool," she said softly, "and so are you."
Myka heard the ping of an Artifact popping up. Ironically, that was even more depressing. She wasn't even in enough of a funk to stop doing her job.
"What've we got?" Myka asked Claudia, who always rushed in when she heard anything from her computers other than the cooling fan.
Claudia looked at the screen, eyes wide. "Nothing!" she said, face frozen with eyes still wide. "Just the Mystery Spot acting up again. I got it."
"It's her, isn't it?" Myka couldn't even say the name. Couldn't let her still be Helena, couldn't return her to being HG.
"I'm not good at feelings. I was trying to spare yours." Claudia turned the monitor to face Myka.
She didn't look at it. Not yet. "What'd she do this time?" Myka vented. "Tie Polly Pureheart to the train tracks? Burn down an orphanage? Spit on a nun?"
"Transformed the Regents into zoo animals."
Myka snapped her fingers. "Exactly!"
"No, I mean, they're going 'baa'."
Myka grabbed onto the monitor as she looked at it closely. "Class XX Artifact. Treasurer notified—who's the Treasurer?"
"Another of the Regents' fifty Grand Poobahs? Seriously, those guys have more VPs than an oil company." Myka glared at Claudia. "Mood lightened? I'm bad at the feels. I said so."
"Class XXs are the Deathly Hallows of the Artifact world." Myka stood, for once not noticing the weight of her baby bump. "Why would she waste one on an act of vengeance?"
"Because she's cuck—I'm not Pete."
Myka spun the monitor back to Claudia. "How many pings get kicked up to the Treasurer?"
Claudia's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Checking… nada, just Class XX. And none of those have surfaced in sixty years. The Spear of Destiny—whoa. Open in new tab."
"Focus, Claudia."
"But this explains how Hitler got in the Bronze Sector!"
"Is Pete on this?"
"No. He and Steve are… still in Nebraska, doing cover story work."
"Since when do Agents do cover-ups?" Myka was already going to get her purse. "Is the Treasurer going after this one himself?"
"I think so. Northern Montana just got a do not disturb sign hung on it."
"Call the boys. Don't use the vids, call them. Tell them to meet me in Montana. H.G.'s setting a trap."
"So you're going into it?"
"It's not for me."
Claudia watched her go, a little enviously, then dialed Steve on her iPhone. "Steve? I found out how Hitler got in the Bronze Sector."