Fic: We’ll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet | Warehouse 13 | Myka/Helena | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: We’ll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Pairing: Myka Bering/Helena Wells (with a side of Pete Lattimer/Steve Jinks)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,560
Prompt: For retsuko’s fandom_stocking ( here): (no particular prompt, outside of a preference for New Year’s Eve fics)
Summary: Helena isn’t sure she should be here, celebrating the New Year with the makeshift family of the Warehouse. In fact, everything seems … wrong, somehow. Myka, of course, does her best to make it better.
Disclaimer: SyFy owns it. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: When I saw the list of fandom likes in retsuko’s stocking, I just couldn’t resist this. (More spoilery notes at the end of the fic, as this story is spoilery for all aired eps. of WH13 up to date.) Fic originally posted here, here, and here.
We’ll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet
On the evening of December thirty-first, the sun had only barely set by the time most of the Warehouse family was hitting the egg-nog. With no artifact-based chaos to occupy them for the time being, there was a decidedly hopeful, upbeat feeling that just couldn’t seem to be squashed. Pete was still in his ‘Wonderful Life’ afterglow, nearly a week after an artifact had sent him into a parallel reality where he’d never been born, Steve was freely flirting with him-to no one’s surprise at all, least of all Pete, who laughed and flirted back-and even Artie was gleefully sharing his private stash of goodies, since Claudia had taken it upon herself to be the anti-Grinch and make sure no one was left out of the merry-making. The only face of gloom in the entire place was Helena.
Who, at the moment, was busily staring into a glass of untouched alcoholic bliss as she sat in an armchair by the fire in the boarding house while the rest of the family carried on with their liquored-up frivolity. She supposed she should’ve been carrying on with them, considering the enormous amount of favor she’d had to curry with Pete, Artie, Mrs. Frederick, and the other Regents to win her release for the holidays after having turned down the offer to use the Janus coin, but somehow, that glorious bubble of happiness felt completely out of her reach. As if it wasn’t meant for her. As if-
“Helena? Are you … are you sulking?”
Glancing up from her still untouched drink, Helena barely stopped herself from frowning at Myka, instead managing a tense look, feeling for the world like everything in the world was utterly wrong somehow. “Not at all,” she said, drawing her feet up beneath her on the chair and putting on a cool look as she finally got herself under control. “Merely contemplating the meaning of life.”
Myka snorted in amusement, then plopped down onto the floor at Helena’s feet, sitting with her legs crossed. “Meaning of life? Yeah, right. What’s wrong?”
Helena let out a long-suffering sigh, and rolled her eyes. There really was no stopping Myka once she was bound and determined to see something through, so what was the point of further deflection? “If you must know, there’s a black cloud following me around, and I can’t seem to escape it.” Breaking off, she stared back down into her glass. The truth was entirely too embarrassing to share, but if there was ever a time for it, she supposed now would be it. And if anyone would believe her, it would be her friend. “I’ve had the worst feeling for days that I’m not supposed to be here. Does that make sense?”
Chancing a look back up at Myka, she allowed herself the luxury of a frown. Well, a pout, really. If she was going to be honest, she might as well be honest with herself, too.
Myka frowned as well, looking contemplative for a moment. Then she started, slowly and carefully, “Do you mean … like a premonition?”
Somehow, that didn’t quite fit the bill, but Helena pursed her lips and thought about it. The feeling had been nipping at the rear of her brain ever since she’d won her freedom, and it was only getting worse, like the feeling of being chased through a moor by a hound that you couldn’t see. “I … I suppose,” she admitted. “You know that terrible feeling of dread that you get when you know you’ve forgotten something important, but can’t for the life of you remember what it was?” A nod from Myka, and she went on, “Well, that’s a bit of what it’s like. As if something terrible must’ve happened, and I can’t seem to remember what. That I shouldn’t be here. That … that the Warehouse itself shouldn’t be here.”
And there it was. In stark cold black and white, the image that’d been playing around the edges of her mind these past few days. The Warehouse, and Helena, were supposed to have been destroyed, killed, exploded. A gasp escaped her and her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes grew wide, her spine straightening as if she’d been electrocuted. She couldn’t even stop the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes, stinging and blurring her vision.
Before her, Myka suddenly seemed panicked, setting her own drink aside before rising up onto her knees and grasping Helena by the arms. “Helena? Helena, look at me. Hey. Hey. Come on, come back. You’re here, the Warehouse is here, and nothing can change that, okay?”
At some mental distance, Helena became dimly aware that the laughter and carryings-on around the room had ceased and all eyes were now upon her. But all she could really see were Myka’s eyes boring into hers, so full of concern that they felt like a lifeline being thrown to a drowning woman. Grasping desperately to that lifeline, Helena managed a long, ragged breath, and with considerable effort, dragged herself up from the depths of her own shock to find herself shivering like a leaf, the liquid in her glass threatening to spill over.
“I … sorry. I didn’t … didn’t mean to frighten you,” she managed, taking a long breath after as she attempted to compose herself, gripping her drink more tightly and with both hands.
But Myka didn’t seem to buy it, her eyes narrowing as she frowned again. “Well, you did frighten me. I know you saw something. Or remembered something. What was it? Please tell me.”
A shudder ran along Helena’s spine as the image came to her mind unbidden, but this time she was able to endure it. The thought of sharing such a horrible scene was an anathema to her. “I wouldn’t presume to ruin your New Year’s Eve,” she said instead. “No one should have to see what I’ve seen.”
Myka’s brow furrowed, and she gently pried the glass from Helena’s fingers and set it aside before stroking a soft hand down the side of her face, smoothing away a lock of hair that had come undone from Helena’s loose ponytail. The warmth of her palm was reassuring, and undermined Helena’s resolve to not burden her friends with her deathly vision.
“If something’s wrong, we need to know, Helena,” Myka urged her. “I need to know, so I can fix it. Please.”
Her eyes sliding closed, Helena took a shaky breath, then let herself relax into Myka’s hands. Yes, she could do this. If … if something had happened to change the course of their fates, it needed to be known.
“I … I’m not sure how or why,” she started. “But … there was an explosion. There was no time. I wired the Warehouse’s security system to shield all of you as the bomb counted down. It was an artifact, I’m sure. The bomb went off, and. And it was all gone. The Warehouse, me, Mrs. Frederick. Only those of you within the bubble were spared.”
The bubble.
At that, she blinked again, and the tears welling up in her eyes finally slipped down her cheeks. Her chest felt like someone had pulled her corset too tight, and possibly stabbed her through the heart as well.
“Oh my god,” Myka breathed, her own eyes wide and shocked. “No wonder you’ve been so out of it.” Glancing up, she nodded to the others. “Somebody get Mrs. Frederick. I think we’ve had another timeline alteration. Maybe another artifact, possibly something in the Warehouse that could’ve been triggered by an explosion.” Looking back to Helena, she said, “All right, we’re gonna figure this out, okay? And in the mean time, it’s still New Year’s Eve, and we’re all planning to have a good time. Even you. Got me?” Finishing with a crooked smile, she nodded decisively, and something in the gesture made the frayed nerves in Helena’s body seem to mend back together, the tightness in her chest unclenching, at least fractionally.
“All right,” she agreed, even if she still didn’t completely believe that everything would be fine.
Myka’s smile widened into a grin with that, and she leaned up on her knees to kiss Helena on the forehead. “Good,” she whispered against her skin. “Because I’m planning on kissing you at midnight, come hell or high water.”
An actual laugh escaped Helena, and she couldn’t stop her own smile as she pressed into the warmth of Myka’s lips. At last, her black cloud seemed to be lifting, and what a welcome thing that was.
~*~*~
As the makeshift family simultaneously celebrated and sprang into a flurry of investigative activity, happy, content, and ready to ring in the New Year with all engines firing at capacity, a small book sat on a shelf deep within the Warehouse, one aisle over from the Aisle of Noel. The old, cracked leather cover was opened flat, and the fragile pages turned to a certain leaf, upon which was scrawled the words to a poem.
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
and gie's a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
for auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
The words gleamed, glittering with life and love and renewed hope, a second chance to make things right, for old friendships to blossom anew with the coming year, and with a chiming sigh, the book dimmed and closed, its work complete.
~*~*~*~
Author’s Notes #2: Something just had to be done about the way the last season ended, so when I saw retsuko’s preference for a New Year’s story over a Christmas story, I just couldn’t resist this. Also, I know Pete’s the one that usually gets the vibes, but again, I just couldn’t resist doing it this way.
The poem translates as this:
And there’s a hand my trusty friend!
And give us a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
-from Auld Lang Syne, By Robert Burns
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Pairing: Myka Bering/Helena Wells (with a side of Pete Lattimer/Steve Jinks)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,560
Prompt: For retsuko’s fandom_stocking ( here): (no particular prompt, outside of a preference for New Year’s Eve fics)
Summary: Helena isn’t sure she should be here, celebrating the New Year with the makeshift family of the Warehouse. In fact, everything seems … wrong, somehow. Myka, of course, does her best to make it better.
Disclaimer: SyFy owns it. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: When I saw the list of fandom likes in retsuko’s stocking, I just couldn’t resist this. (More spoilery notes at the end of the fic, as this story is spoilery for all aired eps. of WH13 up to date.) Fic originally posted here, here, and here.
We’ll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet
On the evening of December thirty-first, the sun had only barely set by the time most of the Warehouse family was hitting the egg-nog. With no artifact-based chaos to occupy them for the time being, there was a decidedly hopeful, upbeat feeling that just couldn’t seem to be squashed. Pete was still in his ‘Wonderful Life’ afterglow, nearly a week after an artifact had sent him into a parallel reality where he’d never been born, Steve was freely flirting with him-to no one’s surprise at all, least of all Pete, who laughed and flirted back-and even Artie was gleefully sharing his private stash of goodies, since Claudia had taken it upon herself to be the anti-Grinch and make sure no one was left out of the merry-making. The only face of gloom in the entire place was Helena.
Who, at the moment, was busily staring into a glass of untouched alcoholic bliss as she sat in an armchair by the fire in the boarding house while the rest of the family carried on with their liquored-up frivolity. She supposed she should’ve been carrying on with them, considering the enormous amount of favor she’d had to curry with Pete, Artie, Mrs. Frederick, and the other Regents to win her release for the holidays after having turned down the offer to use the Janus coin, but somehow, that glorious bubble of happiness felt completely out of her reach. As if it wasn’t meant for her. As if-
“Helena? Are you … are you sulking?”
Glancing up from her still untouched drink, Helena barely stopped herself from frowning at Myka, instead managing a tense look, feeling for the world like everything in the world was utterly wrong somehow. “Not at all,” she said, drawing her feet up beneath her on the chair and putting on a cool look as she finally got herself under control. “Merely contemplating the meaning of life.”
Myka snorted in amusement, then plopped down onto the floor at Helena’s feet, sitting with her legs crossed. “Meaning of life? Yeah, right. What’s wrong?”
Helena let out a long-suffering sigh, and rolled her eyes. There really was no stopping Myka once she was bound and determined to see something through, so what was the point of further deflection? “If you must know, there’s a black cloud following me around, and I can’t seem to escape it.” Breaking off, she stared back down into her glass. The truth was entirely too embarrassing to share, but if there was ever a time for it, she supposed now would be it. And if anyone would believe her, it would be her friend. “I’ve had the worst feeling for days that I’m not supposed to be here. Does that make sense?”
Chancing a look back up at Myka, she allowed herself the luxury of a frown. Well, a pout, really. If she was going to be honest, she might as well be honest with herself, too.
Myka frowned as well, looking contemplative for a moment. Then she started, slowly and carefully, “Do you mean … like a premonition?”
Somehow, that didn’t quite fit the bill, but Helena pursed her lips and thought about it. The feeling had been nipping at the rear of her brain ever since she’d won her freedom, and it was only getting worse, like the feeling of being chased through a moor by a hound that you couldn’t see. “I … I suppose,” she admitted. “You know that terrible feeling of dread that you get when you know you’ve forgotten something important, but can’t for the life of you remember what it was?” A nod from Myka, and she went on, “Well, that’s a bit of what it’s like. As if something terrible must’ve happened, and I can’t seem to remember what. That I shouldn’t be here. That … that the Warehouse itself shouldn’t be here.”
And there it was. In stark cold black and white, the image that’d been playing around the edges of her mind these past few days. The Warehouse, and Helena, were supposed to have been destroyed, killed, exploded. A gasp escaped her and her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes grew wide, her spine straightening as if she’d been electrocuted. She couldn’t even stop the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes, stinging and blurring her vision.
Before her, Myka suddenly seemed panicked, setting her own drink aside before rising up onto her knees and grasping Helena by the arms. “Helena? Helena, look at me. Hey. Hey. Come on, come back. You’re here, the Warehouse is here, and nothing can change that, okay?”
At some mental distance, Helena became dimly aware that the laughter and carryings-on around the room had ceased and all eyes were now upon her. But all she could really see were Myka’s eyes boring into hers, so full of concern that they felt like a lifeline being thrown to a drowning woman. Grasping desperately to that lifeline, Helena managed a long, ragged breath, and with considerable effort, dragged herself up from the depths of her own shock to find herself shivering like a leaf, the liquid in her glass threatening to spill over.
“I … sorry. I didn’t … didn’t mean to frighten you,” she managed, taking a long breath after as she attempted to compose herself, gripping her drink more tightly and with both hands.
But Myka didn’t seem to buy it, her eyes narrowing as she frowned again. “Well, you did frighten me. I know you saw something. Or remembered something. What was it? Please tell me.”
A shudder ran along Helena’s spine as the image came to her mind unbidden, but this time she was able to endure it. The thought of sharing such a horrible scene was an anathema to her. “I wouldn’t presume to ruin your New Year’s Eve,” she said instead. “No one should have to see what I’ve seen.”
Myka’s brow furrowed, and she gently pried the glass from Helena’s fingers and set it aside before stroking a soft hand down the side of her face, smoothing away a lock of hair that had come undone from Helena’s loose ponytail. The warmth of her palm was reassuring, and undermined Helena’s resolve to not burden her friends with her deathly vision.
“If something’s wrong, we need to know, Helena,” Myka urged her. “I need to know, so I can fix it. Please.”
Her eyes sliding closed, Helena took a shaky breath, then let herself relax into Myka’s hands. Yes, she could do this. If … if something had happened to change the course of their fates, it needed to be known.
“I … I’m not sure how or why,” she started. “But … there was an explosion. There was no time. I wired the Warehouse’s security system to shield all of you as the bomb counted down. It was an artifact, I’m sure. The bomb went off, and. And it was all gone. The Warehouse, me, Mrs. Frederick. Only those of you within the bubble were spared.”
The bubble.
At that, she blinked again, and the tears welling up in her eyes finally slipped down her cheeks. Her chest felt like someone had pulled her corset too tight, and possibly stabbed her through the heart as well.
“Oh my god,” Myka breathed, her own eyes wide and shocked. “No wonder you’ve been so out of it.” Glancing up, she nodded to the others. “Somebody get Mrs. Frederick. I think we’ve had another timeline alteration. Maybe another artifact, possibly something in the Warehouse that could’ve been triggered by an explosion.” Looking back to Helena, she said, “All right, we’re gonna figure this out, okay? And in the mean time, it’s still New Year’s Eve, and we’re all planning to have a good time. Even you. Got me?” Finishing with a crooked smile, she nodded decisively, and something in the gesture made the frayed nerves in Helena’s body seem to mend back together, the tightness in her chest unclenching, at least fractionally.
“All right,” she agreed, even if she still didn’t completely believe that everything would be fine.
Myka’s smile widened into a grin with that, and she leaned up on her knees to kiss Helena on the forehead. “Good,” she whispered against her skin. “Because I’m planning on kissing you at midnight, come hell or high water.”
An actual laugh escaped Helena, and she couldn’t stop her own smile as she pressed into the warmth of Myka’s lips. At last, her black cloud seemed to be lifting, and what a welcome thing that was.
~*~*~
As the makeshift family simultaneously celebrated and sprang into a flurry of investigative activity, happy, content, and ready to ring in the New Year with all engines firing at capacity, a small book sat on a shelf deep within the Warehouse, one aisle over from the Aisle of Noel. The old, cracked leather cover was opened flat, and the fragile pages turned to a certain leaf, upon which was scrawled the words to a poem.
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
and gie's a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
for auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
The words gleamed, glittering with life and love and renewed hope, a second chance to make things right, for old friendships to blossom anew with the coming year, and with a chiming sigh, the book dimmed and closed, its work complete.
~*~*~*~
Author’s Notes #2: Something just had to be done about the way the last season ended, so when I saw retsuko’s preference for a New Year’s story over a Christmas story, I just couldn’t resist this. Also, I know Pete’s the one that usually gets the vibes, but again, I just couldn’t resist doing it this way.
The poem translates as this:
And there’s a hand my trusty friend!
And give us a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
-from Auld Lang Syne, By Robert Burns