FF: All Your Faithless Loyalties 3/5 NC-17 Myka/HG
“You knew.”
It's not an accusation, per se, but a statement of fact. The plain words do nothing, however, to hide the pain of betrayal in Myka's eyes.
“Of course I knew.”
“And you let her... you let her return as a Warehouse agent. You let me... you let us...” Myka still can't find the words, form the words. “Why?”
“Once we determined that Miss Wells had been programmed by MacPherson, there was no way to determine how deep the subliminal messaging reached, no way to know what his ultimate plan had been. I suspect even he did not understand how effective the programming had been. For instance, she killed him to secure her own escape, something I'm certain he did not intend for her to do, wouldn't you agree?” Myka nods. It had always been something that bothered her, the quick and callous way in which HG cut the totem of crystals from MacPherson’s neck, letting him die. It never squared with the HG who smiled at her so sweetly, who opened doors, and gallantly rescued her on more than one occasion.
“This led me to believe that whatever grand scheme MacPherson had implanted in Miss Wells’ mind, it had grown in scope and parameter from his original intention. The effect of the artifacts upon Miss Wells’ mind was simply too powerful, too unstable. Do you remember what he said to Arthur when you captured him?”
“He seemed… desperate and said he’d tell us everything. That he knew the plan…”
“Can you imagine a reason why he’d be so anxious to admit to everything? When he still had an accomplice who could either carry out the plan, or rescue him?”
“I assumed he was just biding time…” Myka trails off, one more puzzle piece finally fitting into place. “He knew. He knew that whatever he’d implanted in HG’s mind wouldn’t stop with his capture.”
“I believe that MacPherson wished to use what knowledge Agent Wells possessed about Warehouse 2 to find those artifacts for himself. But he had to make her hate the Warehouse, hate the world, hate herself enough to be willing to betray everyone, to knowingly give up that information to him. HG Wells was many things before she was bronzed, but she was not a traitor.”
“But once he was captured…”
“There was no check on her behavior. With this type of subliminal messaging, there’s usually a control word or phrase that ends the programming. A safety switch. But with MacPherson in our custody…”
“She’d keep going,” Myka finishes. “She’d end the entire world, with him in it.”
“Exactly.”
“You let her return as an agent so that you could watch her.”
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Agent Bering.”
It hits Myka at once, the betrayal, the broader game, all the nights she wept alone in her bed for the woman she thought she’d lost. It’s too much, too strong, and she can’t stop herself from shouting at Mrs. Frederic, “She wasn't my enemy! She was my lover!”
Mrs. Frederic stares impassively back at Myka. No regret. No compassion. She continues without a hint of apology, “It may have seemed as if we were ultimately one step behind Miss Wells, but the truth is, if we had not allowed her to return to the Warehouse, given her the latitude and safety she had, she would have been compelled to immediately complete her indoctrinated mission and we would have been ten steps behind her and too late.”
“So it was all an act. You never trusted her.”
“Of course not, Agent Bering.”
“But you placed her in a position where I trusted her.”
At that, Mrs. Frederic raises an eyebrow. “Let's be fair. You trusted her long before she was returned as a Warehouse agent.” Myka's glare turns icy but Mrs. Frederic continues unabated. “In fact, I would venture that it was your relationship with Miss Wells that managed to prolong the fruition of her plan. There were a dozen or more opportunities once she was back in the Warehouse where she could have accessed devastating artifacts and harnessed their power. Instead, she behaved as a model Warehouse agent.”
“Until she tried to destroy the entire world.”
“Until the opportunity to destroy the entire world was too great to ignore,” Mrs. Frederic corrects. She takes a breath, relaxing a bit. “Give her some credit, Myka. She fought the subliminal messaging for months before succumbing... and even then? She stopped. Because she refused to kill you.”
Myka blinks slowly, processing this information. At that, Mrs. Frederic actually does smile. “Has that not occurred to you yet? The message imprinting in Miss Wells’ brain patterns was so deeply ingrained it was almost at a survivalistic level akin to food and shelter. Yet, she broke through it, overcame it, to save you. In a world where all she could see was hate, destruction, pain, and fear... you were the one shred of hope and love she clung to for survival.” Mrs. Frederic picks up her purse. “Consider that the next time you wonder if her love was only a charade.”
Myka stands in the silence of the Warehouse control room long after Mrs. Frederic leaves doing just that.
*
Mrs. Frederic walks out of the Warehouse, barely hesitating as her eyes adjust to the sunlight.
Artie is waiting for her at the town car. If possible, he looks more hurt than Myka.
“How much of that did you hear,” she asks, already knowing he heard it all.
“You could have told me.”
“To what end Arthur?”
“I could have watched her, kept her from Myka-”
“More so than you already did?” The rebuke is said jokingly but the sting is just as sharp. “You hated MacPherson for releasing her and you hated her for killing MacPherson, something which was not her fault by the way but was another manifestation of MacPherson's own actions. If I'd have told you that there was a broader plan afoot you wouldn't have let her out of your sight for a moment, you wouldn't have even given her the slightest amount of trust or responsibility. Instead of giving her the freedom to let the plan come to the forefront, you would have smothered her like a cornered animal and forced her to take even more desperate actions.”
“I still should have been told.”
“You, Arthur, should have had more faith in me.” She tilts her head, giving him a look that would have sent most men running. “After all these years, do you really think I would let someone who had been a threat to the Warehouse back inside those walls without a very good reason?”
Artie starts to argue but no words come out. She's right of course. Above everyone else, Mrs. Frederic has a link to the Warehouse unlike anyone else. She never would have allowed it to be threatened unless to do so was an absolute necessity.
Mrs. Frederic slides into the town car, tossing out as she closes the door, “You owe her an apology.”
Artie watches the car drive away before asking, “Which one?”
*
The group is picking up the office when Artie walks back in, looking somewhat contrite. As much as is possible for him anyway. He gives the others a glance and then focuses on Myka. “Can you all give us a moment alone please?”
Pete looks at Myka, checking to make sure before he mumbles, “Yeah, sure, why don’t we go do that thing Claudia?”
“Right, the thing at the place… insert awkward exit here…” Claudia offers up gamely, hustling Jinks and Pete as quickly as she can out the door.
In the silence, Artie and Myka stare at one another, neither one certain of what to say or where to begin. Finally Artie coughs and mumbles, “So you talked to Mrs. Frederic.”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Would it have mattered?”
Artie sighs, too tired to be anything other than honest. “No. It wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Do you know where she’s at now?”Myka asks. It’s the first time she’s even let herself ask that question aloud. To take the next step in trying to bring Helena back. Home.
“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you Myka, I think they owe you at least that.”
“Do you think…” Myka begins shyly, not even daring to hope, “…Is there any way she can recover from it?”
Artie shrugs in genuine uncertainty. “MacPherson was using some very dangerous and very potent artifacts. I hope, for your sake, she can.”
“I’m sorry I went behind your back and looked into this.”
“I’m sorry you needed to go behind my back. You should have at least been able to come to me with your suspicions without worrying about my reaction. I let my emotions get the better of me.”
Myka gives him a self-deprecating smile. For the first time in days it feels like she can breathe again. “Welcome to the club.”
*
Hours had passed, but neither Myka nor Helena had made attempts to leave the bed for anything but food and tea the entire day. Myka had never felt so lazy, or so deliciously relaxed.
“I can’t believe we’ve spent all day in bed,” she laughed, snagging the last few broken chips from the bag before tossing it to the floor with the rest of the snack detritus.
“Haven’t you ever been totally and completely decadent?”
“Um, no,” Myka laughs, pushing Helena’s hair off her forehead before kissing her.
“Bloody Americans don’t know when to relax,” Helena winks, grabbing Myka’s hand with lightening quick reflexes before rolling the younger woman beneath her. “In my day, we knew the value of a good lie-in…” She grinned wickedly, pining Myka’s hands above her head, all the earlier guilt and rage nothing but a distant memory as she stared into her lover’s eyes. “Perhaps I should teach you the finer points of debauchery?”
Myka giggled, honest to god giggled, as she squirmed under Helena’s body. “I think we passed debauchery about four hours ago when we stole the whipped cream from the fridge.” She leaned up, stretching to kiss Helena slowly until they were both breathless. “But feel free to instruct me in all of your licentious ways.”
“My darling, I think this lesson could go on for hours…” Helena teased, threading her fingers through Myka’s as she shifted her body until her knee was between Myka’s legs. Slowly, she rocked against Myka, earning a soft hiss of approval.
All Myka could do was breathlessly whisper Helena’s name, her fingers clenching tighter against her lover’s as she arched up to deepen the contact. “Touch me,” she sighed, amazed that after hours in bed together, loving each other, she still craved Helena’s touch like oxygen.
Slow, deep kisses melted one into another as Helena let go of Myka’s hands and slowly explored her body. Each time it seemed she discovered something new - a delicious freckle, a tiny scar, a soft spot of skin that made Myka tremble when Helena kissed it. Oh, there were the usual places that made the Warehouse agent moan and sigh, but it was the discovery of the unusual that kept Helena on her quest. The indent of Myka’s hip, the flesh of her palm, the dip in her collarbone - these places Helena kissed, nipped, marked as her own. Each moment built, teased, small tremors before the earthquake.
Myka gasped as finally Helena touched her with purpose, fingers sliding inside to drive Myka incoherent with need. They moved together, joined, the sunlight streaming in the windows warm on their sweat drenched skin. Myka’s nails scraped down Helena’s back, made purchase against her slim hips, and held as they rocked together, matching each other’s pace.
“Helena… please…” Myka begged softly between gulps of breath. Helena simply kissed her harder and continued her long, exquisite conquest until Myka could hold back no longer and came with a muffled shout against the woman’s shoulder.
Holding Myka close, Helena didn’t move until she felt her lover relax in her arms. Only then did she turn and settle them both more comfortably against the pillows and horribly mussed sheets. Tenderly, she placed a kiss on Myka’s forehead, not even daring to speak as the rush of emotion twice as strong as her earlier rage threatened to completely undo her.
“Your heart’s pounding,” Myka whispered, snuggling herself more deeply into Helena’s arms.
Helena squeezed her eyes shut and smiled, answering honestly, “That’s what it always does when I’m around you my love.”
Part Four