Aww, come on, coach. It’s the fourth quarter— don’t bench me!
thank you, warehouse 13.
I mean, H.G. is an eccentric women. I don’t think she’s ever really cared what anyone else thought of her. She’s just doing her own thing. So when she finds herself in the future and meets Myka, she meets, for the first time probably, a woman who is as strong as her and as dedicated as her. In the 1880s, she was probably quite an isolated figure. She probably dealt a lot with men. And she had to work under her brother’s pseudonym. As a women, she wasn’t even allowed to write under her own name. And then she meets Myka, and she’s like, “Oh, thank God. I’m not completely alone in the universe.” - Jaime Murray
I cannot deal with how this quote and those scenes simultaneously make me, love the world and want to curl up and cry, because Jaime is so fucking right, about the character she gave life to, and about how the greatest gift for Helena turns out to be, that she’s not completely alone in the universe, but then there are so many times, we see her FEEL so alone, and so separate, and like she has to keep herself away from Myka (because she thinks it’s for Myka’s good), and like she doesn’t DESERVE to not be alone, and then that’s when I cry, because Myka and Helena are each other’s not alone in the universe, -(via typeytypeytypey)
“one more second with her is a happier ending than a lifetime without her”
really. that’s the face u chose to act there Jo.
Myka’s universal face for when HG makes her feel things and she has to quick look away get it out of her head and hope to god Pete doesn’t see the look on her face hope that nobody sees her face because she knows they’ll know they’ll just know the second they do and she just can’t look that in the eye right now
I AM SO FUCKING DONE
When H.G. Wells thought of the word, “hospital,” she thought of a place people go to die.
The future had shown her modern marvels that her powerful imagination hadn’t quite been able to conjure during a century in bronze, and one of the greatest wonders of the age was the advances made in sanitation and healthcare. The sterile smell of the hallways was not nearly as repulsive to her as it was to so many others. This was the smell of strife to them, the smell of sickness and death. Helena regarded the clean smell as the smell of hope and progress.
Or, she had until the first time she visited Myka Bering.
It had been a month ago when Pete had called her, panicked, with a story that connected so many small puzzle pieces she hadn’t been able to properly join the last time she had seen her dear friend. The exhaustion, the pallor, and the sunken eyes, given the context of their conversations, were all easily explained by other causes. They were explained by stress and the strain of loss, the perpetual pressure of trying to save the world against eenmies with more resources than she ever could have dreamed of in London. Helena’s role as an advisor to the Regents and a researcher for the CDC helped the agents of Warehouse 13 often, but she was no longer exposed to the daily grind and loss of life as a field agent. she was…happy, if lonely, and in the process of sorting her place in a new world out before she could pursue any other kind of happiness.
Pete’s call changed everything.
Myka had been alive and vital when they had first met, healthy and fit and possessed of equal parts ferocity and warmth. Myka had been a harbor for Helena in the torrential storm of her own rage.
And things had changed since they met. Where Helena had begun to heal, the constant barrage of loss that Myka was dealt had opened a gaping wound through which a terminal illness had found its way inside.
Helena shuddered as she recalled how frail her friend had looked against the crisp white sheets of her hospital bed, and how still. Only then had Helena connected those final puzzle pieces — then, when Myka’s dark hair lay flat against the pillowcase, when her pale face blended with the white of the room, when her brilliant green eyes looked upon her with only a spark left within them, and then faded into grey.
Then, when Helena realized that Myka looked no different than the last time they had seen one another, did Helena fully realize what her betrayal had done to her dearest friend.
The former Warehouse agent placed her hand against the wall, a month removed from that moment of revelation, and steadied herself before she walked into Myka’s hospital room for the last time.
The bed was neatly made, the pale sheets put over the bed and left without a single line. The blue blanket — the only spot of color in the entire room — was perfectly placed at its foot, waiting for its next occupant. Helena’s heart seized a bit as the memories of what had occurred within those walls played through her mind once more.
In the corner, two bags stood packed and sealed and ready to be carried out, each filled with the bits of comfort the Warehouse team had brought Myka during her bout with illness.
She walked toward the bags and bent, picking one of them up and slinging it over her shoulder.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
Helena turned her head toward the occupant of the room, a faint smile on her lips. ”You didn’t have to make the bed, you know. The nurses will be in here shortly to strip it.”
“It’s a force of habit. It feels good to be able to do something so simple again without getting winded or dizzy.”
Myka sat on the edge of that prim bed, lacing the second of a pair of canvas sneakers. Her hair had found come of its curl again, and her face had gained back so much of its color that Helena could almost be persuaded that her old friend was back, vital and happy, the way she was before Yellowstone.
“Regardless, you should not be lifting heavy objects.” Helena crossed to the chair at the side of the bed, familiar and worn from many nights sitting in it. ”You are still recovering from a fairly invasive surgery.”
“I feel fine, Helena. I feel great. Better than I have in a while.”
“I’m glad.” The small smile on the Englishwoman’s face faded, and she turned away from her friend for a moment.
Helena had worked with Vanessa Calder on a way to rid Myka of the toxic invader, a remnant of too much stress and an exposure to a toxic orchid. Of all the agents, Myka had fared the worst. She had shown some signs of it during her examination after the orchid was reestablished, but it was months later that the symptoms became too disruptive to ignore.
But as artifacts had helped cause it, artifacts were used to cure her of a disease that should have killed her. It left her with a scar, and something else — a specially-designed implant, small and durable and designed by herself, Dr. Calder, and Claudia, that would effectively neutralize her heart over and over.
Because by the end of it, Myka’s heart had become a harmful artifact, acting against its own body.
The irony was not lost on the writer, and she would never forgive herself for her part in it.
“Hey…” Myka’s soft voice drew her back to the room, to a set of green eyes that were filled once more with life and vitality, and a wide smile she had not been graced with in years. ”I’m alive. I’m here, Helena. Stop beating yourself up.”
Helena indulged in another small smile. If course Myka knew where her thoughts had gone to. she still knew her better than anyone else.
“You would not have been in this place at all were it not for me. Myka, I am so sorry. For everything.”
Warm hands wrapped around her own cool ones, tugging Helena closer as the taller woman finally stood from the bed.
“I would not be alive if it weren’t for you. Remember that. Think of that every time you start to assign blame. Because I don’t blame you, Helena. I would rather have you in my life than not, and that means accepting all of it…and all of you.”
Myka’s warm gaze made her own heart warm, and some of the hope that had been dashed a month before began to return once again.
Perhaps she had placed enough of her focus on her place in the world, and on her professional future, because the last month of her life had taught her the most important lesson she would ever learn.
There was no future for her without Myka Bering in it.