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zipperanachronism · 2 months

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If you don't mind me asking, what ARE the right codewords to use on doctors and such?

I’ve thought, many times, about writing a book or something that was basically How To Negotiate Your Disability Without Curling Into A Ball And Weeping More Than Once Or Twice A Week *Or* Murdering The Entire Universe (More Than Once Or Twice A Week).

Here are some highlights:

1) On acquiring adequate pain medication.

Never actually say “I really need strong drugs here doctor, because the drugs you and every other doctor gave me for this injury/illness didn’t work, and also I’ve been in pain for years and I’d like that to stop.”

While there are some doctors who speak human languages and will understand what you’re saying, most, when you say that, will hear:

“I am a ravening junkie werekaiju, and I will come to your house and EAT YOUR BABIES IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME HEROIN.”

You think I’m kidding? Watch a healthcare professional’s eyes when someone else says something like the following. Watch them shut down and back away and tighten up and generally stop treating the person like a human. So what do you say?

Try this:

“Well, I hate these drugs that make me *stupid*, you know? One of these so-called doctors — they gave me some pill that made me feel like I was on a whole separate planet for *years*, but I was still in pain! I have things to *do*, doctor. I have a job/family/projects. I wouldn’t be here if I could get my work done the way I am now, but if I can’t do them with the drugs you give me, then what’s the point?”

Make sure to translate this into the appropriate dialect for your area, but note the important points:

a) Reassures the doctor that you’re not one of those ~*eeevil*~ junkies.b) Reassures the doctor that you’re not one of those ~*eeevil*~ non-productive members of society.

c) Reassures the doctor that you’re not one of those ~*eeevil*~ weak-willed disabled people.

Remember not to use too *much* *correct* medical jargon — they get suspicious about that.

Yes, all of this is necessary a *lot* of the time.

With the above code, 95% of the time the doctors begin *cooing* at me and treating me like *royalty* — and *100%* of the time I have gotten the effective medication.

Pro-tip: If you can add a true (or true-sounding) story about how much you *hate* one *particular* opiate (“Percocet is useless! All it does is make me stupid!”), then you’re probably in the bag.

2) Acquiring mobility devices.

Never actually say “I need a walker/wheelchair/scooter, because I have trouble getting around, and also I have a great deal of fatigue and pain when I try to do so.”

While some healthcare professionals speak human languages and have souls… well. A lot of them? Will hear this:

“I am a fat, lazy, Fatty McFatFat, and I will continue to expand, much like the universe, until I am a drain on the resources of this great nation and a proof that you, doctor, are a failure. I will never use the mobility devices, ever, and they will gather dust in my home — a mockery of everything you, Morally Healthy Person, holds dear.”

Yes, I know this makes even less sense than the former, but I’ve interrogated these people — the ones who have still have partially-functional souls and minds — and this really is how it works in their adorable little pinheads.

They really do think we’re asking for these devices for… no reason at all.

Or, as my otherwise sane GP put it, she has an honest fear that people like us will take one look at our new mobility devices and throw all caution — and sense — to the winds. That we’ll stop stretching and exercising. That those of us who *can* walk for short distances will — somehow! — decide to *never walk again*. That we’ll decide to — gleefully! cheerfully! blithely! — let every last one of the muscles we’ve been clinging to with our *fingernails* *atrophy* to *nothing*, because…

Because they think we’re idiots, that’s why. So, try this instead:

“I have a lot of pain and fatigue when I try to walk for any kind of distance, at all, and that’s getting in the way of my ability to have anything resembling an active life. It’s even hard to get to my doctor’s appointments sometimes! I want to do at least some of my own shopping and other errands, and go out with my friends, and at least try to hold down a job, but unless the weather is really good and I’m having a good day in other ways, it’s just not going to happen. I don’t want to stop using my cane/walker/whatever completely — and I *won’t* unless I *have* to, just like I won’t stop doing my PT and OT exercises — but I need something that will let me actually have a life.” Note the similarities to the pain management code — and yes, do make sure you put this in your own words.

But also make sure you keep everything that makes you sound like the Virtuous Handicapable Person you totally are.

Because that’s necessary.Yes, it is.Yes. It. Is. Just as it will be necessary, in many states — make sure you check — to add in this little number:

“It’s just… well, you know that I don’t really have any bladder or GI issues, doctor, but I still… sometimes… on bad mobility days… you know.”

Here’s where you look down.

“Sometimes I don’t make it… you know. In time.”

Understand that you’ll have to repeat this to, like, four different people. At least.Understand that some of them will make you get specific.

If it helps, pretend you’re Steph Brown, doing her level best to gross the everloving bejeezus out of her P.E. teacher with graphic stories about her period so she can get out of class and fight crime.

*I* certainly found that helpful.

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zipperanachronism · 2 months

Text

in fragments no longer 2

I said this would come next week but... i finished a couple things early, so... here is the second and final installment of my 2024 @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange gift offering for @sharkbatez! In part one, an artifact and a cold night helped start a conversation. In part two, Bering and Wells have to figure out how to finish it. Part 1 can be found here.

Myka starts to speak and then closes her mouth.

Helena holds her hands out in front of her, pushing away objections. “Not forever, not quit your job and move to Minneapolis. Just… take a few vacation days? We could… we could see, then.”

“Are you asking?” Myka offers a tentative smile. “I'm not being coy… of course I will… I just, is that something you actually want to do?”

Helena leans forward. She wants to reassure–just to touch Myka’s forehead with her own–offer a gesture of relief. But as she moves, Myka’s pupils dilate and Helena can feel that magnet that has always drawn her closer humming between them and she does not lean her forehead. Helena’s hands cradle Myka’s face. She pulls their mouths together.

Harder than she means to, and she feels Myka gasp at the contact. She softens again, moves fractionally back. This has to be worth whatever comes next; Helena does not want to move too fast for Myka. But Myka follows her, moves her body across Helena's lap, and then she is looking down at Helena, hair falling into both of their faces.

“I don't know why we haven't done that more.”

Helena smiles. “I have missed this.” She can feel Myka’s long legs on either side of her, and she puts her hands on Myka’s hips. They fit so entirely correctly together.

“Me too. But the me you knew before, Helena, really didn't know what she wanted.” Myka shifts, leans back, and the movement puts pressure on every piece of Helena's skin that touches hers.

“No? That was not the impression that Myka I knew gave me. Of what she wanted?” Helena reaches upward and at the same time presses Myka’s hips down. “She seemed quite certain…” Her lips graze Myka’s, and Myka smiles and dips her head into the kiss.

After what probably isn't hours or lifetimes, Helena pulls back. “Of what it meant, perhaps less so.”

“I don’t ever want you to stop talking, Helena, but I do want you to stop talking about before.” Myka punctuates each of these words with a small action. A button unfastened, a kiss against Helena’s jaw, her neck, a shifting of skin and muscle and tendon.

Helena laughs, but her laugh betrays breathlessness. “Ever? I can’t imagine it would be fair to hold you to that. Most people think I talk too much, eventually.”

“I’m not most people, but that is very, very hard for me to imagine.” Myka pushes Helena’s shirt down her arms, and Helena leans in to help her remove it entirely. “Or maybe that seems like such a luxury from here, to hear enough of your voice to be tired of it.”

“Myka.” Myka is going to need to stop saying things like this, if Helena is going to maintain any composure at all tonight.

“Yes?”

Helena runs her hands up underneath the flannel. Myka’s body is reassuringly warm, and delightfully free of encumbrance. “You have very nice pajamas.”

“Thank you.” Myka’s breath hitches a little as she presses towards further contact.

“And yet I am still a little bit worried that you will be too cold when I take them off.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Helena.” Myka unhooks Helena’s bra. “I would really like for you to take them off anyway.”

“Can I take you upstairs first?”

Myka moves to stand immediately, then winces. She laughs a bit. “I guess my feet are still a little bit tender.”

Helena has never wished she could carry someone bodily with quite this much fervor before. “Ah yes. Can I… can I help? It’s not far. Or, we could go to the guest room, instead. It’s on this floor.”

The smile Myka gives her is startling for its combination of sheer delight and… she’s never thought of Myka as wicked before, but that is the word that comes first to mind. She keeps the blanket around her shoulders and hobbles in front of Helena towards the hallway. Helena is pleased with herself, because she had made the guest room up a few weeks ago, and there are sheets as well as a blanket on this bed, even though this particular room has never seen a guest.

Myka pulls back the covers and climbs into bed with a sigh of relief. Immediately, she pulls Helena towards her.

“Darling, wait.”

“What for?”

Helena holds out the thermometer.

Myka rolls her eyes. “I can promise you I’m not hypothermic now.”

Helena does not budge. “Prove it.”

“Fine.” Myka puts the thermometer in her mouth and pats the bed. “But you have to be in here with me.”

Helena smiles and complies. Two minutes seems endless with Myka watching her, so she presses her gently back against the pillows and counts the time tracing patterns on the skin below Myka’s shirt. She can feel Myka breathing more heavily as she tries not to open her mouth too much.

Finally, the thermometer beeps and Myka takes it out triumphantly. “See.” She smirks and hands it over. 37 degrees.

“Perfect.” Helena feels she should be proud of that little bit of temperature rise. But she is also relieved, more genuinely than she would like to show.

“Now come here.”

___

Helena wakes up some hours later to Myka shifting next to her. It is still dark outside the window and it takes a moment for Helena to remember why she is not in her own room, and why there is a warm body tangled up with her own. She turns over to find Myka awake and watching her.

Helena smiles. “Hello.”

Myka smiles too. “You’re real.”

Helena smiles back. “And you’re here.”

“I am.” Myka moves her arm around Helena’s shoulders, and Helena settles against her chest.

“Do you know how long you might be able to stay?”

Helena can feel each breath, and she can hear Myka’s heartbeat from this perspective. It is slower than the last time she checked. Steady. “We do accrue vacation days, I am told. I was hoping for three. With a little luck and no pings…”

“It would be lovely to have you for that long.” Helena knows that it is unlikely there will be no pings in three days. She will hold out hope for as much time as she can.

“Do you have to work in the morning?”

“Tomorrow is one of your national holidays, is it not?”

Myka laughs. “Is it Presidents’ day tomorrow, really? They don’t give that one to the secret service. Ironically.”

“They don’t give it to researchers at the University either. I plan to call in sick.”

Myka smiles. “For three days?”

“Possibly.” Helena wraps herself tighter around Myka. “If there are no pings.”

“Maybe next time I could come visit you… wait, do you get a spring break?”

“Not as such, but I do get vacation days. You need only tell me when you plan to arrive with a little more notice than you did last night.” She leans up and kisses Myka. “Perhaps it could be before March 14th, though?”

Myka nods and is silent for a while, stroking Helena’s hair. Helena nearly falls asleep again before Myka’s voice brings her back to consciousness.

“You know Pete's going to be the next Artie, sometime?”

“I didn't, but I can see it.”

“I've been thinking about what I might do next.”

Helena stills. “Have you.” She tries to put no emphasis whatsoever on the question.

“Yes. I don’t know that I want to be an agent forever. And when Pete moves up… I talked to Claudia, and Pete's mom, about maybe becoming a regent. Because they…”

Helena closes her eyes. Myka keeps talking, and Helena closes her eyes. A regent. The world narrows to a point, a memory, of Helena taking the Janus coin. She cannot hear what Myka says after that point.

It might be a moment later, it might be several, when Helena hears her name.

“Helena? Hey. Are you…”

Helena opens her eyes to Myka’s concern. She reaches out to touch Helena’s face.

“Come back to me for a second.”

Helena shuts her eyes again.

“Tell me what you're thinking?”

Helena gets up. She cannot tell anyone anything tangled up in these blankets and naked. She picks up the first clothes she can. This shirt might be Myka’s flannel top, but her pants are her own and all she wants is to move… There's a light in the kitchen and she follows it, then turns it off. Outside the French doors she can see the sky is clear and dark, the stars are out. She considers opening up those doors and stepping out, barefoot, into the snow. How quickly would she feel pain? And how quickly might she…

Myka pads into the room, blanket wrapped around her. She comes to stand beside Helena, hugging herself.

“I'm really sorry, Helena. I shouldn't have sprung that on you.”

“If you are considering it…” Helena speaks slowly. “I would rather it wasn't something you kept from me.”

Myka shakes her head. Helena moves away from her and carefully pours herself a glass of water at the sink. Even being close to Myka is too charged, but she does not want Myka to know that.

“Do you want one?”

“No, thank you.”

“I didn't hear a lot of what you said, after the word regent.” She admits.

Myka winces.

“But what I imagine Jane was thinking, and Claudia was thinking, and perhaps even Artie was thinking, is that having someone who knows the rules, has the moral integrity you do, and the fortitude to stand against the others would be an incredible asset to the Warehouse. And they aren't wrong.” She sees Myka nod, listening. Helena puts the water glass down. “What I cannot imagine is what you were thinking when you entertained the idea.”

“I was thinking I could choose where I wanted to live.”

Helena blinks. This is not what she expects to hear.

“All those things, and yet I could live where I want. I thought of it in terms of staying connected to Claudia and Pete, and Steve… and also I hoped I could change the way they do things.”

The vision is an appealing one. Helena hates to admit this, but… “But as a regent, you could not live with me.” She does not look at Myka.

Myka comes to stand in front of her. She speaks softly. “Then it wouldn't be worth it.”

Helena can't avoid Myka’s face, and she can't help the flare of anger either. That Myka would even consider… “Could you live with it? With what they do? I would have to wait for you to come home and wonder, Myka. Wonder what you were able to stop or what you might have been unable to argue against…”

“Helena. Ok. Ok, I do see.” She takes Helena's hand and Helena remembers how Myka’s hands had soothed her just hours before. She wants them to soothe her again. “I wasn't ignoring it. I want you to know that. I just thought maybe I could change it, protect people. Prevent anyone from ever…”

Helena leans her head forward until it touches Myka and sighs. “One woman against the tide? It's a good dream. Maybe it is what you're meant to do. Maybe I would just need time to get used to the idea. Or maybe it is what you're meant to do and I'm not strong enough…”

She turns to face the night outside but Myka wraps herself around Helena, wraps the blanket around both of them. “Stop talking about being strong enough.” She kisses Helena’s hair, and Helena lets herself be soothed. “If I were to leave the warehouse, that is something I would need to take time to reconcile. I don't know how I would do it yet. I would need to see a path clear.”

Helena doesn't dare turn around but she holds Myka’s arms tighter around her. “Have you thought about it?”

“Of course I've thought about it. There is a part of me that has wanted to run off into the sunset with you ever since I knew for sure you were alive, and physical, and not coming back.”

Helena can’t help herself. “What's stopped you?”

Myka takes a long time to answer. “At first because I wasn't sure you wanted that.” Helena starts to speak, worried that they must forever repeat the same conversation, but Myka squeezes her slightly. “I know. And then, because they're my family, and I've never… never had that before.”

“And they are a family worth keeping.” Helena shrugs. “I can't see a way for this to work, Myka.”

“I can't either.”

Helena deflates.

“Not the way things are right now. But this time yesterday I couldn't see how I could possibly manage to kiss you again, so I'm willing to believe that I cannot see all the possibilities at this moment.”

Helena doesn't know what to say.

Myka shakes her a little. “I thought we were good at solving puzzles together, Wells.”

“Perhaps only at gunpoint?” Helena admits, “I don't know how much more saving the day I have in me.”

“You invented a rocket, and a time machine, and a grappler, and you've saved many days. What if you stop worrying about that and just focus on taking me back to bed right now.”

Helena turns and kisses Myka again. What if the only way through this is choosing this moment, and choosing to make it happen again? If this body, this warmth is all she can see clearly right now, she can certainly do her best to make it worth the pain that the morning brings them both.

___ In the morning, Helena wakes before Myka. She spends a long while just watching the light climb across the sheets towards her face, turn her hair new and subtler shades of brown, illuminate the occasional gray. Invisible at any distance greater than this one, those singular grays startle Helena, who has only recently started to find them in her own hair and has yet to decide what to make of them. Myka’s she finds breathtaking, for the depth of texture they add and for the intimacy they imply.

Helena gets up, eventually, to make breakfast. Making breakfast, as a ritual and as an experiment, is another new luxury of this century. She makes pancakes the American way, and adds all sorts of things that she thinks Myka might appreciate from her cupboard. She has maple syrup from a neighbor with a cabin up north, blueberry jam another dropped off on her porch this July, and orange juice to defrost. She makes coffee too, espresso for Myka and a flat white for herself. All of these little rituals that have made her life here interesting and satisfying. She cuts wood, she hauls water. She sets the table. She sweeps the kitchen to avoid flipping the pancakes early.

Myka is usually an early riser. Helena knows this, but it is a long while before she hears stirring from the guest room. Getting whammied, Helena remembers, can be exhausting, and perhaps Myka is hiding a little. Helena isn’t hiding, per se, in the kitchen, just… keeping herself busy, by making Myka breakfast.

Before too long, she hears sounds of moving around. She hears, eventually, when Myka pads to the doorway, and stops. She considers trying to flip a pancake while she has an audience and decides against it. She has only ever successfully managed a flip after a lot of disastrous iterations, and she doesn’t really want this day to be about cleaning up the kitchen.

“Hi.” Myka says, eventually.

Helena turns around and smiles. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Myka smiles back. She looks well rested, and as she leans against the doorway Helena can’t help but marvel at how radiant she looks in the morning sunlight, wearing an oversized tee shirt.

“Good. Warm. No lasting effects, I think.” She doesn’t move, and Helena wonders if she doesn’t know what to say. Would that be because she doesn’t think Helena will like what she has to say? Is she afraid of hurting Helena or scaring her?

“I’m making pancakes. Would you keep me company while I finish?”

Myka smiles more broadly and sits at the kitchen table. Helena turns back to the stove, where one neglected pan needs more batter and another pancake should have been flipped about 45 seconds ago.

Myka clears her throat and says, “You went to Pikes Peak.” She gestures down at the cog logo on her tee shirt

Helena pours more batter on. She had pulled out a very specific shirt from her dresser and laid it out, with a pair of shorts, next to Myka’s phone this morning. “I have been twice, actually. Last year, there was a conference in Denver and I drove down. I wanted to see if the train was still as I remembered.”

“The train… the cog railway, you mean? Since… oh! I remember when I was a kid they had a centenary celebration… 1891” She cocks her head. “You took it when you were in Colorado before?”

“With Nikola, yes.”

“Wow!”

“That’s very close to what I said to Nikola, or tried to, at the top of the mountain.”

“Was it how you remembered?”

“Aside from the difficulty breathing? Not in the slightest. The gift shop, as you see, has many more options in this century.” She waits for Myka’s laugh and then admits, “I don’t usually go in for novelty shirts, but… it made me feel closer to you, to have something that said Colorado Springs in the back of my closet.”

She waits a beat and then brings Myka her coffee.

Myka puts the mug down on the table and reaches for Helena’s waist. “This is really nice. Strange, but nice.”

Helena allows herself to be gathered. “Watching me cook?”

“Yes.” Myka pulls back slightly. “And just… did you have a part of you that worried… in the morning…”

“Were you worried I might wake up evil, darling? After one true moment of happiness?”

Myka laughs. “Has Claudia been giving you tv recommendations again?”

“No. Yes. I was a little worried the regents might descend on me in the night and decide I merited rebronzing after all.” She keeps her tone light, as though she is joking, but Myka squeezes her tightly anyway. She leans into Myka’s arms.

“Me too. Or that it was all an artifact hallucination. But I think the state of my socks suggests that this is all… real.”

Helena has to extract herself for another burning pancake, but she kisses Myka on the forehead before she does so.

Once she is safely facing the stovetop, she says. “Just to clarify. I am still… where I was… last night. When we… I haven’t changed my mind this morning, Myka. Have you?”

“I was really hoping you would say that. Because Claudia has already given me time off and I have a whole list of sights I want to see on both sides of the river… No, Helena. I haven’t changed my mind.” Myka’s voice sounds a little shaky.

Helena hasn’t been conscious of holding her breath, but she is conscious of the tension that leaves her body now. “We better get eating, then.” She turns to find Myka watching her with a small smile and eyes that are not quite dry.

Helena finds her own eyes are not entirely dry a she pulls the stack of pancakes out of the oven and brings them to the table. “These are a bit of a specialty. Have you ever had wild rice in pancakes before?”

“No, but these look delicious.” She pours a very restrained amount of syrup on her pancakes, tips the bottle up, and then, as if her hand has slipped, lets another small mountain of syrup fall.

Helena does not remark on the second helping of syrup but takes the bottle from her and asks, “Did you know that wild rice is not, strictly speaking, related to domesticated rice at all?” Myka shakes her head, grinning.

“I didn’t know you liked to cook, Helena. I mean, I guess you took that class…”

That class. “That class was… not very helpful, as it turned out.” She flashes a small smile at Myka. “Of course I learned to cook as a child, but it wasn't a matter of liking to cook before, it was a matter of having to, or neither Charles or I would eat, and then a matter of being able to afford not to cook, as a professional woman. In this century… well, I set myself a regimen of practice and experimentation. I like chemistry, and I like a well-made tool, and I have found I like the art of perfecting taste very much. These pancakes, you see, took months to make right.”

“They are really very good.”

“Thank you.” After a few bites, she asks, “Do you really want to go sightseeing today?”

“Well, it’s one thing we could do.” Myka blushes.

Helena grins. “We can’t have you getting cold today.”

Myka smiles again and then looks down at her plate. “Do you know what a long distance relationship is?”

“A…” Helena blinks. “I was born in the century of steamships and longhand letters, Myka. Of course I know what a long distance relationship is.”

Myka still hasn’t looked up. “You know what I mean.”

“The English language functions to describe things very much as it did before you were born…” Helena reaches across the table. “Is that what you would like, a long distance relationship?”

Myka nods. “I would like time. With you. And time with my life at the warehouse. And time to decide what it is we can do together, what that might look like. I would like the luxury of getting to know you without an apocalypse hanging over our heads.”

Helena considers Myka’s words. She finds, to her surprise, that the word apocalypse doesn’t sting this morning as it might have. Instead she is fixated on the with and the you.

“I have never had one, myself, but I have heard that many people dislike the experience of long distance.”

“I have heard that too. I… haven’t either.”

“But to me, the idea of having some time with you, without losing my old life, and to be able to look forward to seeing you again… it does sound like a luxury.”

Myka stands up and comes around to Helena’s chair. Helena scoots back her chair and pulls Myka into her lap. “I would like you to show me a little of your life, Helena. I want… I want to see what’s important to you.”

“Today, right now. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

#bering and wells #warehouse 13 #so good

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zipperanachronism · 2 months

Text

in fragments no longer

A gift for @sharkbatez in the @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange. You mentioned you like hopeful fics, and a little hurt/comfort too. I hope you find this one as hopeful as I do!

It's snowing outside as Helena sits in her favorite dive bar. This in and of itself is a small revelation: in her previous life, a woman alone in a drinking establishment, especially one so intentionally plebeian… with this lighting. In her own time, that would have been dangerous, even with Kenpo at her disposal.

To have a favorite, to have a bartender like Winston recognize her, make well drinks exactly to taste, watch out for her and not otherwise have expectations of her... None of her imaginings of the twenty first century extended to human interactions so mundane and so unthinkingly generous.

Winston pours a generous dark and stormy and asks how her night is going.

Helena shrugs. “As you see it.”

Winston, in his wisdom, takes no offense. He nods.

“Sometimes it's like that. Want to talk about it?”

Helena does not want to talk about any of it.

“Nobody wants to talk about anything in this town. Everyone's so measured and polite. You know I'm not from around here, either? I miss a little rowdiness. That's why I like you, HG. Not so measured.”

Helena laughs. Not so measured. “Is that a compliment?”

“Ever been to Iron River?”

She shakes her head.

“Well then you'd see why it is to me. But only if you talk.”

“Were your parents the only anglophiles in Iron River, Winston?”

He flashes her a brief, genuine smile. It’s an old joke between them.

There are days that she knows to look out for. The whole season of Christina's last days in Paris are always rough. The anniversary of Egypt… her betrayal of Myka. These are the anniversaries that make it hardest to live through a year. Another year outside of time.

“Have you ever been in a situation where someone's life depends on you, Winston?”

“I'm a bartender, HG. Keeping people alive is what I'm paid for.”

Helena takes a sip and grimaces. “As is putting them in danger.”

“It's a fine balance. I get the sense you know that, too.”

Helena offers a dry “ha” of acknowledgement. “In my old life, before… not anymore.”

This day, the days that sneak up on her, the ones she doesn't always remember to expect are smaller guilts. Smaller compared to an ice age. The students she sent to die in the desert. Or her Warehouse 12 colleagues, Lenox and Eddington and her own carelessness. Sometimes even Wolly, whose death she was not around to prevent.

The days that remind her why she cannot be trusted to be a partner anymore. A technician, a researcher, perhaps, and damn good at her job. But not a member of a team. Even a team invested in her… well. Best not to get any more maudlin tonight.

Today, February 14th, would have been Lenox’s 150th birthday. She and Wolly used to call him St Valentine, since he was such a cherubic boy. All big brown eyes and tousled hair, a perpetual hangdog air that always had girls and not a few boys looking to nurture him. Wolly, for one. Helena was six months younger, substantially wiser, and found him very irritating. But she never would have wished harm on him. Never would have let him near the artifact at all, had she been in her right mind.

And he would have been 150 tonight. What would he have made of America, the Red Elk or, perhaps more crucially, what would Winston have made of Lenox? She has a suspicion they would have liked one another.

Helena shakes off her flight of fancy. No, he would not have seen his 150th, regardless of Helena. Left to his natural life span he would have died somewhere around the time her brother did. But as an agent of the Warehouse, how likely was that? Wolly had outlasted Helena but not Warehouse 12… it was only Helena who got to see this century and the one before last. The sleeper awakened and alone.

Winston brings her another drink but holds it away from the bar. “Should I be giving you this?”

Helena tries to answer but is distracted by… hair.

Curly, brown hair of a very specific color and texture that Helena has trained herself out of dreaming about.

She turns around fully in her stool in time to see that it is Myka. Myka wearing pajamas? A woman very like Myka, but in pajamas, who makes eye contact with her, wheels around, and walks out of the bar. Runs?

Winston sets the drink down. “Know her?”

Helena scrubs her hair back from her face. Is she hallucinating now? It's been… hallucinations have happened before, over the years. Sightings and lookalikes. Once an actual near run in with Pete and Steve and Helena made herself–made herself!--not follow them.

Occasional wishful visions and yes sometimes Myka isn't wearing much in those wishful visions… usually not a set of flannels even then… and this is not a hallucination, she can feel the cold air sweeping in from the closing door.

“Yes.” Helena is already standing, already pulling money out of her pocket.

“And does she usually wander around in the snow wearing nothing but that?”

“Absolutely not.” She tosses a bill on the counter. “Winston, keep the change, I have to…”

“Yeah, you do. Next one’s on me, HG. Get that girl home.”

She zips up her coat just in time to make it through the door. Helena's not usually one for hats–beanie is an insipid word, she prefers the Canadian toque–but it's February 14th, it's -15 outside and any walk is too long in this weather. Myka, as far as she can tell, is wearing a thin flannel pajama set and socks.

Whammied. A Myka Bering this unprepared for her surroundings must be whammied.

“Myka!”

A Myka running down Lyndale away from Helena in her socks has got to be whammied, right?

“Myka, please!”

That gets a slower pace at least, and given that Helena is wearing winter boots–the most stylish winter boots that will carry one through the season–and Myka is wearing something that will give her frostbite, she catches up fast.

Helena reaches out, grabs one frozen arm. “Myka, you can't be out like this.”

She doesn't turn around. “I know. I wasn't planning on leaving the hotel!”

“Are you far from your hotel now?”

Myka still doesn't turn. “Are we in Chanhassen?”

“Not nearly. Come on, let's get you warm.”

“I’m so sorry. You can call me a Lyft or something…”

“Did you hit your head recently? My house is around the corner. We can call Pete…” she pauses, “or someone else–from there.”

Myka looks like she wants to argue, but she's also starting to shiver so she just nods and lets Helena lead her down a block, around the corner, and up another block. She lets Helena hand her gloves and a hat and only complains a little when Helena insists on her wearing them. Helena wishes she had a spare pair of boots… Myka is already limping by the time they make it to her door.

Helena fumbles the keys once–her hands do not work well at this temperature–and then gets the door open. She pulls Myka inside and leads her through the living room.

“Sit.” Helena can hear Myka’s teeth chattering as she stands, dazed, in front of the couch wearing Helena's hat.

“Here. Sit down.” Helena presses gently down until Myka sits. She pulls a blanket from an oak cupboard and wraps it around Myka’s shoulders. Helena is relieved when Myka starts to look around curiously.

Myka gives her an embarrassed smile and tucks the blanket further around herself. “Thank you, Helena. I'm sorry. I know you don't want to see me…”

It's not Myka that Helena has been avoiding, but Helena sees no way to admit this fact.

“I'm putting the kettle on.” Socks, Helena thinks. She needs warm socks and a hot water bottle. And then I need to check for signs of hypothermia and frostbite.

Hypothermia would require a bath, and maybe a hospital visit, which would be unpleasant for both of them. Frostbite might mean Myka loses toes, but she really hasn't been out so long. There is hope… Helena goes to the kitchen first, turns on the water boiler, and then heads upstairs.

She finds two hot water bottles in the hall closet and a pair of cabin socks in the back of the closet. It's a hideous pair that a coworker gifted her as a Secret Santa present when she first moved to the cities. Yellow striped and fuzzy and Helena has always hated these synthetic fabrics but they will probably do for now…

She comes back down just as the water boils. Helena did spend a lot of time researching the mechanics of twenty first century water boiling machines when she first left the Warehouse. She bought this allegedly top of the line model a year ago and then found that she would need to rewire her kitchen so as not to blow a fuse every time she made a cup of tea. She sends a short prayer out to the ghost of Nikola Tesla that she won't need to visit the circuit breaker tonight but it comes in handy with a two liter, two minute boil.

Myka is still sitting on the couch with the blanket wrapped tightly around her. Her wet socks, Farnsworth and cell phone sit in front of her on Helena's coffee table. She takes the dry socks that Helena hands her and pulls the water bottle tight against her chest.

“Put your feet up.”

When Myka doesn't immediately reply, Helena tries to give her a stern look while lifting one of her feet. She feels a little foolish, a little matron-ish, because bossing Myka around seems so incongruous. But then Myka smiles sheepishly and scoots herself up on the couch so that Helena can put the second bottle underneath, and Helena tries to ignore the feeling of warmth spreading through her own body. Helena has never been able to do this before, to care for an injured Myka, and she wants to get the details right. To make Myka comfortable as well as safe. She supposes Pete will forgive her coveting this moment.

“Can you feel this?” She reaches for Myka’s foot again with an apology. Myka nods and lets her pull it out from the blanket. “I have to make sure you don't have frostbite, darling, sorry.”

Myka just smiles, but it's a worried smile. She's shivering hard now. Helena has to remind herself that it's a good sign, it means Myka’s body still has the energy to warm itself up. Myka’s feet are mottled red but the circulation is returning and they aren't as cold as Helena expects. She feels for Myka’s pulse at Myka’s ankle. It is rapid but steady and Helena breathes a little easier. She massages Myka’s foot gently, but when she feels Myka sigh and relax into the couch a little more, she puts the warm sock back on and gets up again. Too much…

“Cup of tea?”

Myka nods, her eyes closed. Helena lets herself look for a moment and retreats before Myka opens them.

She comes back from the kitchen a second time with a mug and a thermometer.

“First things first-” she hands Myka the thermometer.

Myka sticks the plastic under her tongue with a mild, and adorable, petulance. “I don't think I'm hypothermic.”

“We aren't taking chances, darling.”

She tucks the end of the blanket in and then crouches on the floor next to Myka, holding the mug until the thermometer beeps. Myka’s temperature is 35.5 degrees. That will do for now. She hands the mug over.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, my feet and hands are burning a bit.”

“Good. That's a good sign.”

“I know.” Myka sighs. “I do know better than to run out into that kind of snow, evidence here aside. But I think I may have avoided frostbite AND hypothermia after all. Thanks to you.”

“You're very welcome.”

She laughs into her tea. “No skin to skin contact required.”

Helena, to whom this thought also has occurred, doesn't say anything.

Myka mumbles, “Sorry. That wasn't…”

Helena clears her throat. “So. Do you know what happened?”

“I got whammied.” Helena has forgotten how much Myka hates to look foolish.

“Yes, darling. I had worked that out for myself.” Helena wants to be arch but more than that she wants to reach back under the blanket and warm this sheepish Myka’s feet with her hands again.

“I… we were looking for an artifact at what used to be the Flying Cloud Warehouse, it was a practice space, a recording studio. It wasn't hard to find the tapes. We bagged them, got back to the hotel. I was putting them into storage for transport.”

Myka pauses her story to look up at Helena, eyes bright. “We've got this new transport system for artifacts, Helena. There are these collapsible interlocking pieces with neutralizer channels between two layers. So that we can make a holding case of any size, it's pretty ingenious… Claudia designed them, I think you would really love the way she… I mean you would be impressed…it's an elegant solution for…”

Helena looks at Myka’s toes moving under the blanket and listens. She tries to keep breathing in and out as she does so. She misses Claudia and the beautiful inventions she will never share with Helena and she misses being able to get excited about the Warehouse as Myka is now. And she hates that she wishes Myka were a little less excited about the Warehouse, after everything. Because this is Myka’s life and it cannot be Helena’s life anymore.

There is no joy left of the Warehouse for her, and she does not know where to put Myka’s joy.

Myka looks at her hands. “Well, so I guess I thought it was neutralized. I wouldn’t let Pete near the box, just in case, but I don't know… I mean I couldn't get the song out of my head so after I was done I put it on my phone to listen to and… then I was in a bar. Looking at you. In my pajamas.”

Helena notes that there are a lot of details Myka has neglected to include in the story. “And then you ran.”

“I didn't… really mean to do that. I thought I might have been down the street. Or I might be able to get back… I didn't want to intrude on your night.”

Helena reaches for Myka’s foot under the blanket. “You could have got yourself killed tonight,” she tells her softly.

“Running away was foolish. I'm sorry.” Myka smiles at her, still sheepish. Still anxious. “Thank you again.”

Helena tries to return to the business at hand. “So. What was the record?”

“The record?”

“The artifact. You mentioned a song.”

“It's nothing.”

Helena sighs. “Myka.”

“It was the tapes from the first recording of a song Prince wrote in the 1980s.”

“Of course.” What else would bring them here? Myka looks like she wants to say something more, but doesn’t have the words. Helena leans forward. “Do you need to call Pete? He must be worried.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I probably should.”

Myka doesn't move at all, however. Helena, at her feet, watches her for a few moments and then gets up to attend to the cup of tea she forgot to make herself earlier. Perhaps Myka needs privacy for the call.

As she stands, the Farnsworth blares to life with Claudia on the screen.

“Myka? What's happening? There was a ping, and Pete flipped out, and apparently you're not in your hotel room? Artie says I have to handle this one because…”

“Hi, Claudia. I'm fine. I got… transported.”

“Transported? To? Uh oh.”

“Yep.”

“In your pajamas?”

Myka lets out a sigh. “Yes.”

“Double uh oh.”

Helena sits back down on the couch. “Hello Claudia.”

“Wow. Yeah, ok. Hi HG! It's a real pleasure to see you, is this your place? We definitely gotta catch up sometime! But um, Myka? You ok? At… er, Helena's house?”

Myka shrugs. “As you see.”

Helena figures the brush with hypothermia is in the past, so she says, “She’s in one piece, more or less.”

“HG, buddy, you owe me a text or seven. But the vibe I'm getting says now is not the time and… you probably have things to talk about. As do I… which are work related, those things I have to discuss with Steve and Artie… I should go.”

Myka’s next sigh is the most aggrieved Helena has heard so far. “I guess we do. Hey, Claudia? Can you tell Pete where I am? I don't think I can face whatever his face is going to do when I tell him what happened, but you can tell him I'm ok.”

She runs a hand through her hair. “...And tell him under no circumstances to take the tapes out, ok? I'll be back in the morning. Um.” She looks over at Helena. “If that's ok? I can sleep on the couch.”

“Don't be foolish. You will be sleeping in my guest room, under a duvet.”

Claudia coughs. “Guest room. Roger that, Captain Bering. As caretaker in training I should be sternly telling you to tell him yourself but…. Eh, you look busy. And super cute in those PJs, by the way! So. As you were.”

Claudia salutes and the Farnsworth goes dark.

Helena clears her throat again. “That was… an interesting conversation.”

“She says you've been ignoring her texts.”

Myka is not very subtle about avoiding topics, is she? Helena spreads her hands but takes the bait. Perhaps Myka just needs a moment. “I don't… I am not sure how to adequately respond to a small animated Claudia dancing around an animated block of text. Or a picture of a very ugly cat.”

Myka smiles. “I'm not always sure either. Maybe send back a different ugly cat?”

“From my neighborhood?”

“From the Internet?”

“Why?”

“To make Claudia laugh. What is with this Victorian Luddite act?”

“Technically speaking, the Luddites predated us Victorians by several decades.”

“Technically speaking, you do know how to send text messages.”

“With you. You communicate in complete sentences.”

“Apparently, that makes me a Luddite too.”

Helena smiles back at a Myka who is, finally, not shivering. “Why did Claudia leave the call in such an awkward fashion?”

Myka takes a deep breath. “She probably has two pieces of information that she's putting together.”

“Ok.”

“One is the artifact's known effects.”

“Which I gather are not generally to induce hypothermia or irrational behavior.”

“Well… not hypothermia. No.”

Helena finds this blanket-clad Myka who will not give her a straight answer as appealing as she is frustrating, but it appears Myka won't be going home tonight, so she resolves to be patient. “Fine, Claudia knows it won’t cause hypothermia. And the second fact?”

Myka sighs again. Apparently she will do little else other than sigh this evening. “The second is that she was, unbeknownst to me, in the next room when Pete and I broke up.”

Pete and Myka… not together? When had they last talked? Months ago? Myka had mentioned nothing about this…

Well, Helena had noticed that Myka actively avoided talking about Pete with Helena in general. Helena should not be happy about that but she has always been grateful for it anyway. It is not a kind feeling to want two good people to be unhappy together, but Helena could never get around to supporting what was so obviously a terrible idea for everyone involved. “I see. That must have been awkward for her. And you. When did it happen?”

“About six months ago.”

Helena reaches for sympathy. “I am… sorry… to hear that. Are you… I hope you are all right? Now?”

Myka speaks quietly. “Yeah. Yeah I'm ok. It was for the best.”

Neither of them says anything for a few moments. So Claudia knows something about Myka and Pete, and she knows that the artifact does something related to…

“Is there some reason you don't want to be specific about the artifact’s effects?”

Myka shrugs. “It's a little on the nose.”

Helena dislikes being out of the loop. She hates when she cannot follow a basic conversation. She breathes in and out once. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I spent Valentine's Day with my ex boyfriend hunting down the original studio recording of ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ and of course you live here now and of course I accidentally touched the tape when we picked it up and of course that means I ended up somehow in a bar, with you, in my pajamas. Tonight. On Valentine’s Day. Having to explain this thing.”

Helena stalls out at Pete being anyone Myka would call an ex, but she is trying to follow... “I still don't see why this recording would send you to the Red Elk, of all places.”

Myka stares at her. “You don't?”

“You must remember, I didn't grow up listening to this song. I mean, I've heard it, you can't exactly live here and...”

“It’s not so much… Ok. We've been trying to figure out a pattern to this one, why the tapes made their most recent owner quit his job and fly to California on a whim. The previous owner signed up to take the bar exam after failing spectacularly the first time. And before that a judge offered early parole to a guy doing 30 years for dealing… Claudia had a theory about what it was, but I didn't believe her. And now it brought me here.”

“Irrational behavior?” Helena tries for a joke.

“Second chances.”

“What?”

“The song didn't go anywhere the first time it was recorded. It was only when Sinead O'Connor did her version that the song blew up. Whoever touches the tapes, and I guess plays her version of the song, gets a second chance.”

“At?” Helena's mouth is dry.

“Come on. Really?”

Helena licks her lips. “Known side effects?”

“Aside from the irrational behavior? It's… the changes tend to be irrevocable. Derailing. Big life changes, for everyone involved. More like ancillary effects, you know?”

“I see.” Helena stands up. A second chance for Myka, granted by the Warehouse. Blowing up Helena’s life. Again. “More tea?”

Myka sounds a little desperate. “Do you see why I ran, Helena?”

“Into the snow? Still no.”

Myka shakes her head, frustrated. “I don't want to derail your life.”

Helena turns back from the kitchen door. “You don't appear to have a choice about that. The Warehouse makes sure of it.”

“I don't think it can force you to do anything.”

“No? Good. I have tried very hard to keep it that way.”

“Look, I can see you don't want me here, and I really didn’t mean for this to happen.” Myka runs her hands through her hair and Helena cannot help but wish her own hands could do the same.

“Thank you for saving my life, but that can be it. I'll go in the morning. There’s nothing we have to do here. The artifact gives me a second chance at something I want. It doesn’t mean I have to take it, and certainly doesn’t mean you have to.”

Myka wants.

Helena laughs bitterly. “Do you really think I am as strong as that?” She flees into the kitchen, makes another cup of tea. Leans on the counter and tries not to think about ANYTHING for sixty seconds. Certainly not what Myka wants.

When she comes back in, Myka is sitting up more rigidly. She accepts a second cup and warms her hands around it, even though her first is only half drunk. Helena sits on the chair across from her.

Myka speaks quietly. “What do you mean, you aren’t as strong?”

“I think you must know.”

“I’d like to hear what you meant, and not guess about it.”

“How about you tell me something first. What did Claudia overhear? With you and Pete?”

Myka sits back and nods. “Ok, that’s fair. She heard Pete tell me he's not a consolation prize for denying myself what I really want.”

Helena blinks. “Ok. What…” She stops, starts again. “What do you really want?”

After all the evasion, Myka looks at her steadily.

“Helena. You. I want you.”

Helena puts her head in her hands. Her chest feels tight, and she can feel tears building behind her eyes, and she does not want that, to cry in front of Myka, in front of these words. She doesn’t lift her head. She doesn’t meet Myka’s eyes when she says, “This is what I am not strong enough to resist…”

“I guess I don’t need to ask why you want to resist…” Helena does not look up, and eventually Myka asks, “Where is Giselle?”

“Giselle?” Oh, right. She does look up. “Giselle is back in Wisconsin. With her ex.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I decided that I should move to a city where I might be about to create my own life, on my own terms. For once. She rebounded quickly.”

“And that is another reason to resist. I get that, Helena, I do. More than anything I want you to be happy.”

Helena looks away. “More than you want me? That makes you stronger than I am, I think.”

Myka makes a strangled noise.

Helena doesn’t say anything.

“Will you come here?”

No, Helena cannot do that. But she can speak. “Because what I want more than anything is to ask you to leave the Warehouse. And come away with me.” She puts her head back in her hands. “I can't do that, can I? That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Helena, come here. You can't say things like that to me from across the room.”

“I can’t, Myka.”

Myka tries to stand, winces, sits back down. Helena is already moving to help her before she checks herself. If she closes the space between them–

Helena can see the tears building in Myka’s eyes. She can see the effort Myka is making not to let fall. “Damn it, Helena. You went away. You were the one who left. Me. Don’t tell me anything about being weak.”

“And I have tried mightily to stay away, Myka, I really have.” She grimaces. “And the Warehouse just can't leave well enough alone.”

Myka’s eyes flash. “Well enough? Are you going to punish yourself forever, then? First that beige prison in Boone and now, what, the Lonely Hearts Club here in…”

Helena speaks slowly, keeping her voice as low and measured as she can. “But you don't know anything about my life here, Myka.”

Myka doesn’t say anything.

“And this life is a prison? Really? Compared to what? Univille? The Bronze sector? Thanks.”

Myka pales. After a few moments she says. “I know. I know it's unfair, what I want. I'm sorry.”

Helena softens, as she always has, to the sight of Myka in distress. There's no good answer to her time in the Bronze, to the Warehouse and its demands on them both, but she softens anyway.

“I want you to be happy, Myka. I know the Warehouse makes you happy. That's the only thing I know I can give you for sure.”

“You made me happy.”

“I nearly cost you everything. That's not worth...”

“Stop.” It's not a shout, but it's close. Helena stops. “You don't get to decide what's worth it for me. If you don't want to be near me, that's fine. But don't leave and tell me it's for my own good.”

“Of course I want to be near you.”

“Then why can't we have this? Why can't we ever have the good parts just to try? Because it doesn't help, denying it. It doesn't prevent…”

Myka doesn't try to get up again, but she hits the couch cushion with the kind of force that Helena has only seen her use in the field.

Helena listens as Myka gets her breathing under control. She can count on one hand the time she's seen Myka lose composure, and it is fascinating. Even sitting here, even crying, she holds herself upright. It doesn't help the not wanting. Helena has never been able to maintain this kind of dignity in a fight and Myka’s ability to do so is incandescent.

Helena waits for Myka to master herself and then she walks carefully to the couch and sits next to Myka. Not touching, but not far. Myka’s head turns to follow her, mouth slightly open.

Helena asks, carefully, knowing she cannot undo these words, “If I asked… Would you stay?”

TBC (next week)

#bering and wells #warehouse 13 #so good

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zipperanachronism · 2 months

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zipperanachronism · 4 months

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A very happy 2024, darlings all!

From Myka and myself to you and yours!

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zipperanachronism · 6 months

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#I wish I was taking my elderly parents to do this today

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zipperanachronism · 6 months

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🎃 13 👻 spooky 🧛🏻 Bering and Wells 🧟 fic 🩸 recs! ☠️

Here is a list (under the readmore, ordered from short to long) of spooky and/or Halloween-themed fics: short ones and long ones, AUs and casefics, something for everyone! Feel free to add your favorites in reblogs or replies!

Bite Me (858 words) by @tigerkid14 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Summary: Kinktober 2017 prompt: biting; Myka and Helena were apparently affected by a copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and have a chat in the aftermath.

I have wanted to know you, lover of books (1463 words) by @purlturtle Chapters: 1/1 Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Summary: Honestly I love the "I didn't know where else to go" trope, and this morning I had an undeniable inspiration - I've teased vampire!Helena before, but this is a different vampire!Helena. Then again, can there ever be enough vampire!Helenas? No there can't, so here we go. (also available as a podfic!)

Halloween (1493 words) by @madronash Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Summary: Created for Bering and Wells Appreciation Week 2022, Day Three: Special Occasions/Holidays/etc. Could also be called Fright Night: Fake Blood

Dreadful Tower (2042 words) by @nerdsbianhokie Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Summary: Half-living animatronics, a fear of drowning, and a Jenga tower. A fun night off for the Warehouse agents.

I Ain't Afraid of No… Artifact? (5298 words) by @amtrak12 Chapters: 1/4 Rating: General Audiences Summary: The Ghostbusters meets the Warehouse 13 team! or Three Times it was an artifact and One Time it was actually a ghost. Includes background Toltzmann and Erin cluelessly being really gay for Myka.

Dawn of the Dragonborn: Heart of a Hero, Heart of a Predator, Heart of Dovahkiin (8907 words) by @tryingthisfangirlthing Chapters: 5/? Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Summary: A vampire. A Dragonborn. Two women, a little in love. Coffee? Mead? Or maybe save the world… M'aiq'a is an investigative agent for the Penitus Oculatus, the Emperor's personal bodyguard, sent to Skyrim to try and figure out what's behind these damned vampire attacks that killed her foster brother. Hlenea, clutching an ancient scroll and beset by gargoyles, is the woman she quite literally unearths, sought after by vampires and hunters alike. 'Beware of becoming the very thing you despise' has never been more true. Never mind falling for one… But centuries of unlife make for layers of secrets, and trust is hard to come by. The world is running out of time, and they will both have larger roles to play than either of them ever wanted…

Nightmare Warehouse (11709 words) by @anandabrat and @starshipblueberry Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Summary: Once upon a time, like two weeks ago, starshipblueberry said I’ve got this idea about Nightmare Before Christmas and Bering and Wells, and I said, “That’s a fabulous idea. Can we Good Omens it?” So we wrote in patchwork, one day each trading off. We weren’t supposed to peek. It was supposed to be like Christmas. That didn’t even last a day. We texted each other back and forth for hours. We left each other breadcrumb trails to follow or ignore. We thought we had the ending sorted out like five different times before we actually wrote it.

Transient (38674 words) by @tantedrago Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Summary: AU: H.G. Wells wakes up in a house without knowing who she is. Slowly, she realises that people can't see her and don't react to her: Helena is a ghost. The literature professor Myka Bering buys her house. As the American moves in, HG slowly falls in love with her. But there is still this problem with her being dead and unnoticable to other people. But with Miss Bering, something is different.

Aye, Zombie (57793 words) by @ifourmindbeso Chapters: 13/13 Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Summary: Bering and Wells Zombie AU. Set in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, but in another universe where the Good Friday agreement never happened. What if Myka was the former villain? This is the result of a particularly vivid dream of mine, which may or may not have been aided by large doses of (prescribed) painkillers. So if it reads like a bad trip…that’s why. Trigger warnings for pretty much everything you can imagine - violence, assault. Also, lots of swearing.

What Goes Around Comes Around (That Halloween Story) (61467 words) by @purlturtle Chapters: 13/13 Rating: General Audiences Summary: Myka rolled her eyes at him – but she couldn’t be mad at him for long. Steve was way too good a friend to begrudge a bit of teasing. “Shut up,” she said, but her heart wasn’t in it. “You did save the damsel in distress. And her baby.” “Shut up,” Myka repeated, this time with a bit more oomph behind it. “There are worse meet-cutes, you know. Wait till Claudia hears of this; she’ll heart-eye all over it.” “Shut up!” Myka laughed.

The Courtship of Christina's Mother (73987 words) by @jdaydreamer3 Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Summary: Myka Bering is content with her life as it is. A well-respected architect of a flourishing business. She doesn't have time for love. Or so she thought. Then fate steps in and knocks on her door in the form of Helena Wells and her daughter Christina. Love is inevitable.

Illustrated Misdeeds (99633 words) by Felix_27 Chapters: 18/18 Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Summary: Post Season 5. Myka, Pete and Helena have been reunited for their first mission in some time. Tension is a little high as the artifact chase has them following a familiar traveling carnival that has desires of its own with horrible consequences.

Death, or something like it (104700 words) by @ifourmindbeso Chapters: 26/26 Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Summary: Sheriff Myka Bering lives in a small town in Mississippi. Children are dying in the most horrible way possible, and she has no idea why - until she meets the vampire. The vampire who senses something different about Myka. Suddenly, nothing in Myka's life makes sense, and she faces a battle to save her town from a wave of darkness - from both within and without.

#bering and wells #bering & wells #warehouse 13 #myka bering #helena g wells #such good content

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