Author's Note: After nearly 10 years of reading fanfiction this episode actually got me to post my very first public fic. I'm struggling over what happened in Instinct and writing this was very cathartic. This fic is to process the emotions Myka's going through and deals quite a bit with the strength of Myka and Pete's partnership. It is very much a BeringxWells fic based around Pete and Myka's relationship. Any and all feed back is appreciated! Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13 or any of its characters or plot lines. All mistakes are my own.

Thanks for reading!

What H.G. Did

They pull away from the house, Myka twisting around for one last look, until H.G. is lost to the shadows between streetlamp and picket fence. When at last she can no longer be seen, Myka turns forward and the clever quip Pete's prepared fades away. Myka's jaw is working, her throat moving as if she's locking all emotions in, swallowing all words down.

They drive in silence. So much silence that Pete's stomach begins to churn, his sixth sense pulsing like the countdown timer of Sykes's bomb. That bomb. The entire reason why they have ended up on Helena's doorstep, the same reason Myka's hands are twisting together, locking and unlocking, as they drive on, drive silently, through the night.

They leave the scattered lights of the town and head down inky roads, nothing but woods and farms and the faint flash of the headlights on the road before them. Pete cannot shake that feeling, the dread building inside him along with the intensity of Myka's silence. There are few times where Pete can keep himself from speaking, few things sacred enough to not spin into jokes. Before him is the perfect opportunity to tease Myka. But something has shifted in his partner, something that makes her dangerous and foreign, even to him, he who knows Myka so well that at times he feels that she is an extension of himself. A constant so familiar, so precious, that whatever has shifted within her is making his chest compress with anxiety over her absence. But she is sitting right beside him, her face turned into the window. And through the silence he can finally hear her breath, shaking and as tremulous as the fingers that suddenly curl into tight fits against her knees.

"Pete? Could you pull over?"

Her voice is pitched too calmly. It's too controlled. It's the voice she uses when they've solved the puzzle but an artifact is just about to kill them anyway. He listens. Easing the SUV onto the edge of the forest road he kills the engine and turn to look at her. "Mykes? You gonna be sick?"

But it's too late. She's opened her door and slid out of the car onto the dirt shoulder of the road. Pete flashes white hot, and follows her out of the car. He prays she won't be sick. He really hates that kind of thing. His heart rate only intensifies when he sees Myka dashing across the road and disappearing into the trees.

"Mykes? Hey – Myka!" He jogs after her. "Myka? Please don't be getting sick."

Pete peers through the darkness and finds a small path illuminated just enough to follow by the light of the rising moon. In the distance Myka's back is being swallowed into darkness.

"Myka! Come on Mykes, where are you going? Can we just get back – let's just go back to the car."

He waits but she does not respond. Pete shoves his hands deep into his pockets, sighs, and glances up at the sky before following after his partner. The wind ruffles the leaves now and then and his shoes crunch the dirt, but otherwise the world is quiet. And almost peaceful. He walks a while down the path.

And that is when he hears it: a deep and painful sobbing that rips through the forest and shatters the illusion of calm in the night. Pete breaks into a run, heart in his throat and stomach twisting in fear with every footfall. The sound of Myka's anguish intensifies and he rounds the bend with one last burst of speed. He is unprepared for the sight that greets him.

In the darkness the forest road was foreign, transformed from the familiarity of the world that daylight brings. But as he rounds the trees and finds himself in a clearing, Myka's form hunched over a large and craggy rock, he realizes where they are.

The Janis Coin.

Trying to stop Sykes.



Saying goodbye.


He comes to a halt and watches how Myka's shoulders quake with the force of her cries, the way her fingers scrabble against the rock as if it is the only thing that keeps her grounded. As if it was the spirit of H.G. herself.


Slowly, as if she was some frightened and lost thing, and, indeed, at this moment she is, he approaches her. She looks up as he gets closer, her eyes shining and desperate. She's choking over the enormous sobs that tumble out of her and Pete looks, for the first time, into the face of Myka with her walls down. Her walls shattered. It rocks him to his core.

"Woah – woah, Mykes. Myka –"

He moves to her and kneels before her, shocked when her arms fling around his neck like he was a life raft. And it's raging like a bitch on the seas of Myka Bering.

"Pete – Pete –" She manages to choke out before the sob ribs through her throat with such violence that her next words sound as raw and bloody as her damaged finger tips, still dripping blood from her desperate efforts to curl herself against the rock.

"I love her, Pete. Pete- Pete – oh God. Oh my God. Pete – I love her."

And there it is. Just like that Pete sees it. A million tiny moments in the past, pulling together into one dazzling and dazing moment of recognition. He pulls away to see her face but she curls forward into her knees. "I love her, I love her." The sobs and tears cloy her words. "Oh God, Helena. Oh my God."

He can think of nothing more to do but pull her against him, his large and clammy hands awkwardly trying to sooth a back that jumps and shakes beneath his fingers with those terrible, soul-deep, racking sobs. And in his mind's eye he sees it as though it's a grainy but much beloved film:

Myka's face as she rounds the bend and sees HG with her Tesla to his own head. Her smile is inexplicable to find that H.G. Wells, a woman, stands before her with a gun to her partners head. It lingers just a moment before she launches into Myka-Impossible-Mode.

Myka keeping secrets from Artie, keeping secrets from him.

"You spoke to H.G. Wells about official Warehouse 13 matters and you didn't tell me?"

Myka and H.G. flirting (yes he can see that now) over the tracking device H.G. had slipped into his partner's pocket.

"For the record, I knew you'd slipped that into my pocket."

"I thought you'd know."

"I knew you'd think I knew -"

Myka's hands against H.G.'s tear streaked face in Warehouse 2. Myka coaxing her on, Myka lending her strength.

Myka leaving the Warehouse. Myka's return. Myka staring at the spot where hologram H.G. had disappeared. Myka standing right here, right in this clearning, and saying goodbye.

Saying goodbye to "one of the greatest minds in history." To the woman that she loved.

And yes, Pete can see it, the movie in his mind growing with certainty and clarity around the final image.

Myka standing within a bubble of light. H.G. standing beyond. He can remember his own protests, his own objections to losing a friend, yes, finally, he had called her a friend, so soon. But now all he can see in that moment is the way Myka is looking at H.G.. And how H.G. does not look at him. Does not look at Artie. Her eyes are trained on Myka's face, a mirror image of the love that shines out of Myka's eyes.

And then she is gone. Her body erased by the force of Sykes explosives.

And Pete remembers Myka's silence after. And he had always assumed it was the loss of the Warehouse. But now -

"Myka – oh my God, Myka – we have to turn around – you have to go tell her!"

"No! No."

Myka's face jerks up, her hands are strong and rough has she grabs him by the shoulders. "She made a choice, Pete." She grinds out. Her face is dripping with tears and she shakes him viciously.

"She. chose. him." Myka's hands move, become fists, pound helplessly against his pecs. He reaches down and grabs her wrists and she breaks down again, sagging against him.

"Oh my god, Pete, she chose him."

Once again she folds into herself and into him. Her tears are weaker now. She sounds exhausted.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"What?! Why? Myka -? For what?"

She doesn't lift her head but the wave of tears swell again, bursting out with renewed pain.

He thinks she's going to break. He cannot understand how she can cry this hard and not rupture. It sounds as if her heart was exploding and flowing out her in her tears. He would think that it was impossible for anyone to cry like this. But he knows better. For in the nights after his father's death, the heartbroken sound of pain that Myka now makes could be heard from behind the door to his mother's room. He takes a deep breath to steady himself.

Finally Myka's body cannot sustain the abuse and she shutters into quieter sniffles followed by more apologies.

"For what, Mykes?" He tries to get her to look at him. "I know – I know you…love…her. I guess...I've always known."

A sob escapes from her lips but she finally lifts her eyes to meet his. "I'm sorry for crying."

He has to laugh. Because he knows that Myka Bering does not cry. She does not fall apart. Myka Bering buries emotions deep and they do not see the light of day. And now it seems that all of that pain, all that heartache, has been awoken by the actions of one Helena G. Wells.

He hesitantly reaches up and tucks a wisp of curl behind an ear. It's is tear soaked and very soggy. He removes his hand quickly. This is new territory for them both. This display of emotion on any other occasion would be embarrassing for both of them. And Pete knows that with his partner's admission will permanently alter how they process their emotions together. He takes a risk and picks up her hand.

"Myka, we can go back – we can go back right now. You should tell her."

But Myka is shaking her head. When she speaks she sounds defeated, though her voice is tight with pain.

"Pete, she made her choice. I mean – she's happy. She has a little girl again. If –" her voice catches, "If she had wanted me she would have come with us. She would have…come Home." Myka blinks away fresh tears and looks up at the stars. When she looks back there is a deadness in her eyes that makes Pete feel cold all over.

He wants to argue with her, wants to insist on turning that car around and bringing home her happy ending.

But he can see H.G. standing in her driveway - white house behind her with a man and a child inside - he sees her pale, lovely face and her dark eyes watching them. Watching them drive away. Watching Myka, the most astounding woman Pete has ever met - will ever meet - drive away into the night. And H.G. doesn't try to stop her.

And Pete cannot forgive her for that.

Author's Note: I have this blocked out in my head as a full story but it works as a one-shot. We'll see…