Chapter 11: Decisions
Title: The Past's Revenge
Author: luna_dove
Summery: Michael Yardly, a dangerous enemy from Myka’s past, shows up bent on revenge. Years ago Myka put his brother in jail for the death of her sister, Tracy. Now he is determined to make Myka pay by targeting the family Myka has built for herself, especially one member that has filled the void of her little sister: Claudia.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and swearing.
Spoilers: Spoilers up to and including "For the Team."
Disclaimer: I don’t own Warehouse 13. There is also a quote in this chapter that belongs to Shakespeare, and is credited when it is shown along with being credited in this disclaimer.
Note: H.G. LOVERS, I AM SHAMELESSLY PROMOTING THIS FIC AS PRO-H.G.!
Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10
Chapter 11: Decisions
Myka flexed her hand over and over again as she sat in her favorite corner of the bookstore - a comfortable nook tucked away where customers could sit down and read. It was a little corner of the bookstore stuffed with couches and armchairs,
tiny bedside lamps and tables sitting by each seat, and with a brilliant view of the night sky outside.
She could hear nothing but the rustle of pages and the occasional settling of the bookstore as she tried to concentrate on her book. Her parents had left just a few hours ago for a pre-planed vacation. They had tried to say that they would stay with her, but she had convinced them that she was an adult and was fine with being on her own for a couple of days. Her mother had nodded, but Myka could read the worry in her eyes, along with her father’s. They hadn’t tried to push Myka to give them the full story of what had happened to make her come home abruptly. However she knew they were guessing because of the conversation she had had with her mother the night before they had left...
It was a quiet evening in the kitchen, where Myka was sitting at a table, flexing her hand over and over in an effort to try and get rid of the pain of recently putting her hand back together. Her mother was making them cups of hot chocolate - the drink she always made when she wanted to talk about an uncomfortable topic with Myka. Myka didn’t say anything for fear of accidentally giving her mother more information than she already knew, but simply waited for her mother to start. A few minutes later, her mother put down their cups on the table and sat across from Myka.
“Now sweetie, you know how happy I am that you’ve come home to visit your father and I...”
‘Here we go.’ Myka thought, bracing herself.
“But we were wondering why you did it so suddenly. Not that we don’t love having you home, but you didn’t give us any time to prepare...”
“Are you keeping dead bodies under the floor, Mom?” Myka chuckled, making her mother laugh, and then turn serious.
“It’s just that last time you came, your friend, Pete, came up to join you, and then a bit later that red head girl came, Claudia, that was her name, wasn’t it?” Her mother said, making Myka clench her fist.
“And your boss kept calling to check in on you... And I know it’s different this time because your father isn’t dying, but not once have I even heard you mention your friends...” Her mother trailed off, looking at the stony expression on Myka’s face, not betraying a single emotion.
“Never mind.” Her mother sighed, forcing a smile, grabbing Myka’s empty cup of hot chocolate and going to rinse it in the sink.
“Mom...do you think Tracy loved me when she died?” Myka asked quietly, making her mother turn from the sink and stare at her, shocked.
“Honey, of course she loved you. How could you ever think the opposite?” She asked, coming back to sit by Myka.
“It’s just that I was gone all the time, never coming home, I was always so busy - even to take her phone calls.
Do you know what happened the day she died? She kept calling to tell me that she was named Prom Queen, and my cell rang in the library and I was annoyed. I was annoyed that she was calling me. And that she wouldn't stop. I thought that she should get the message that if I wasn’t picking up the first time, I wasn't going to be picking up any time soon. I called her a few minutes later only to make her finally stop calling me.” Myka said, beginning to feel the emotional dam that she had kept up since telling Claudia about Tracy break. “I didn’t even get to talk to my sister because I was so pre-occupied. She died without letting me hear her voice one last time because I was annoyed with her. Because I was too busy.” Myka sniffed.
“Oh sweetheart.” Myka’s mother scooted even closer to her, putting an arm over her shoulder. “Tracy knew you loved her very much, and she loved you. It’s true...” She said as Myka sniffed and laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Why else would she have been calling you all those times to tell you that she had been elected Prom Queen? All she wanted in the world, sweetheart, was to become like you. To have your determination, your feistiness, your kindness...” She said, as Myka felt another burst of sadness and shame come over her as she thought of her sister’s large, worshiping eyes, Claudia’s face, so full of sympathy when hearing of Tracy and then of Michael lying on the ground, covered in blood and gore.
“But why are you asking this all of a sudden, honey?” Her mother asked curiously.
“I was reading the town newspaper and in the obituaries, it said that Michael Yardly was dead.” Myka said, feeling her stomach turn at the ease at which she could lie to her own mother.
“What? He was living in your town? Did he ever approach you?” Her mother’s voice hardened, and Myka was quick to reassure her, changing her mind and putting her stomach at ease. In this case, lying to her mother was what was best for her and her state of mind.
“No! Just a few hours away! And I never saw him in the time I lived in Univille.” Myka said.
“Just as well. I’m glad he stayed away from you. I was so worried that when he got out of jail he’d come after you. That bastard was never able to accept blame for his faults. Just like his brother.” Myka’s mother said in a dark tone.
“In the obituary, it said that Marcus was dead, too.” Myka said in a quiet tone.
Her mother didn’t say anything, but Myka wondered if she was thinking the sentence she had said just seconds ago, but this time for Marcus.
“Is that why you came here?” Her mother asked.
“That...and I...I screwed up.” Myka said. “When I heard about Michael’s death. I just blew up...and Claudia saw that. I couldn’t...can’t face her. For a minute, I felt like Michael,” she admitted, “with all that anger inside. I wondered...” She trailed off.
“Myka Ophelia Bering, you are nothing like him. You are good and beautiful and kind.” Her mother said, smoothing her hair back lovingly. “But if you truly want to prove you aren’t like him, then you need to go back to your friend. You need to do what Michael could never do. You need to own up to your mistakes.” Her mother stared her straight in the eye. “You need to apologize.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be that easy. I really hurt her. I mean...I never laid a finger on her, but...I could tell I hurt her.”
“I never said it would be easy. But just know, Myka, that one of the reasons your sister loved you was for that trait: that you were willing to take on any challenge, no matter how hard.” She said, kissing Myka on the forehead and leaving the kitchen and Myka, who was staring absentmindedly into space, thinking.
But she still wasn’t sure, Myka thought, coming back to the present of her parent’s empty bookstore, of her decisions, even though she had been thinking about it since the conversation with her mother. And she hadn't been able to rid herself of the uneasiness of the decision she knew she had to make soon - to keep away from Claudia for her own good or to go back and make amends with her. Which would Tracy have wanted? Staying away from Claudia might even be a sign that she cared about Claudia’s happiness more than her own - that she was willing to give up the Warehouse to keep Claudia from fearing her. And the others - was she doing them a favor too? Would she blow up again and have them witness someday the same fury that she had attacked Michael with?
‘I wish I could know what you wanted, Tracy. I wish I knew what Claudia wanted.’ Myka thought. Then she remembered Claudia’s words about Tracy watching over her, and then remembered her plea to Tracy to keep her from losing Claudia - only to have it go unanswered. Tracy was gone - but Myka still knew that she had to honor her wishes, even if only to live up to the person she had been in Tracy’s mind.
Not even the comfortable, warm atmosphere of her father’s bookstore could ease her mind. With the amount of pain she was in, her hand felt like it was on fire. Biting her lip, she tried to concentrate on the book in front of her: “As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.” Thanks Shakespeare.
Giving up on her book for the night, Myka put it down and went to go get a glass of water. She walked into the kitchen when a sudden wave of heat swept over her entire body, making her gasp and grasp the kitchen counter. Her hand suddenly felt like it was about to explode, like the bones were trying to rearrange themselves again... She tried to wait the pain out, but after a minute she came to the horrifying conclusion that it wasn’t going away.
She fumbled and pulled out the Farnsworth that she always kept on her - though she hadn’t used it and no one had called since she had left Leena’s - and flipped it open.
Contacting the one person who she hoped could make the pain go away, she managed to stammer out: “Pain. Bad.” But through the blinding pain she wasn’t even sure if the person had answered in time.
Her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell to the kitchen floor. She wanted to black out, to fall into the comfortable darkness, but realized that she wasn’t blacking out anytime soon - the pain was insufferable, the heat unbearable, but her body wasn’t letting her fall unconscious. ‘It was like the flu,’ Myka thought, as another wave of heat wreaked her body. She was going to be miserable, but she wasn’t going to be allowed to have the soothing arms of darkness take her. She lay on the floor, parents and friends miles away from her, communication cut off, as she was unable to move due to the pain spreading through her body.
Author: luna_dove
Summery: Michael Yardly, a dangerous enemy from Myka’s past, shows up bent on revenge. Years ago Myka put his brother in jail for the death of her sister, Tracy. Now he is determined to make Myka pay by targeting the family Myka has built for herself, especially one member that has filled the void of her little sister: Claudia.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and swearing.
Spoilers: Spoilers up to and including "For the Team."
Disclaimer: I don’t own Warehouse 13. There is also a quote in this chapter that belongs to Shakespeare, and is credited when it is shown along with being credited in this disclaimer.
Note: H.G. LOVERS, I AM SHAMELESSLY PROMOTING THIS FIC AS PRO-H.G.!
Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10
Chapter 11: Decisions
Myka flexed her hand over and over again as she sat in her favorite corner of the bookstore - a comfortable nook tucked away where customers could sit down and read. It was a little corner of the bookstore stuffed with couches and armchairs,
tiny bedside lamps and tables sitting by each seat, and with a brilliant view of the night sky outside.
She could hear nothing but the rustle of pages and the occasional settling of the bookstore as she tried to concentrate on her book. Her parents had left just a few hours ago for a pre-planed vacation. They had tried to say that they would stay with her, but she had convinced them that she was an adult and was fine with being on her own for a couple of days. Her mother had nodded, but Myka could read the worry in her eyes, along with her father’s. They hadn’t tried to push Myka to give them the full story of what had happened to make her come home abruptly. However she knew they were guessing because of the conversation she had had with her mother the night before they had left...
It was a quiet evening in the kitchen, where Myka was sitting at a table, flexing her hand over and over in an effort to try and get rid of the pain of recently putting her hand back together. Her mother was making them cups of hot chocolate - the drink she always made when she wanted to talk about an uncomfortable topic with Myka. Myka didn’t say anything for fear of accidentally giving her mother more information than she already knew, but simply waited for her mother to start. A few minutes later, her mother put down their cups on the table and sat across from Myka.
“Now sweetie, you know how happy I am that you’ve come home to visit your father and I...”
‘Here we go.’ Myka thought, bracing herself.
“But we were wondering why you did it so suddenly. Not that we don’t love having you home, but you didn’t give us any time to prepare...”
“Are you keeping dead bodies under the floor, Mom?” Myka chuckled, making her mother laugh, and then turn serious.
“It’s just that last time you came, your friend, Pete, came up to join you, and then a bit later that red head girl came, Claudia, that was her name, wasn’t it?” Her mother said, making Myka clench her fist.
“And your boss kept calling to check in on you... And I know it’s different this time because your father isn’t dying, but not once have I even heard you mention your friends...” Her mother trailed off, looking at the stony expression on Myka’s face, not betraying a single emotion.
“Never mind.” Her mother sighed, forcing a smile, grabbing Myka’s empty cup of hot chocolate and going to rinse it in the sink.
“Mom...do you think Tracy loved me when she died?” Myka asked quietly, making her mother turn from the sink and stare at her, shocked.
“Honey, of course she loved you. How could you ever think the opposite?” She asked, coming back to sit by Myka.
“It’s just that I was gone all the time, never coming home, I was always so busy - even to take her phone calls.
Do you know what happened the day she died? She kept calling to tell me that she was named Prom Queen, and my cell rang in the library and I was annoyed. I was annoyed that she was calling me. And that she wouldn't stop. I thought that she should get the message that if I wasn’t picking up the first time, I wasn't going to be picking up any time soon. I called her a few minutes later only to make her finally stop calling me.” Myka said, beginning to feel the emotional dam that she had kept up since telling Claudia about Tracy break. “I didn’t even get to talk to my sister because I was so pre-occupied. She died without letting me hear her voice one last time because I was annoyed with her. Because I was too busy.” Myka sniffed.
“Oh sweetheart.” Myka’s mother scooted even closer to her, putting an arm over her shoulder. “Tracy knew you loved her very much, and she loved you. It’s true...” She said as Myka sniffed and laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Why else would she have been calling you all those times to tell you that she had been elected Prom Queen? All she wanted in the world, sweetheart, was to become like you. To have your determination, your feistiness, your kindness...” She said, as Myka felt another burst of sadness and shame come over her as she thought of her sister’s large, worshiping eyes, Claudia’s face, so full of sympathy when hearing of Tracy and then of Michael lying on the ground, covered in blood and gore.
“But why are you asking this all of a sudden, honey?” Her mother asked curiously.
“I was reading the town newspaper and in the obituaries, it said that Michael Yardly was dead.” Myka said, feeling her stomach turn at the ease at which she could lie to her own mother.
“What? He was living in your town? Did he ever approach you?” Her mother’s voice hardened, and Myka was quick to reassure her, changing her mind and putting her stomach at ease. In this case, lying to her mother was what was best for her and her state of mind.
“No! Just a few hours away! And I never saw him in the time I lived in Univille.” Myka said.
“Just as well. I’m glad he stayed away from you. I was so worried that when he got out of jail he’d come after you. That bastard was never able to accept blame for his faults. Just like his brother.” Myka’s mother said in a dark tone.
“In the obituary, it said that Marcus was dead, too.” Myka said in a quiet tone.
Her mother didn’t say anything, but Myka wondered if she was thinking the sentence she had said just seconds ago, but this time for Marcus.
“Is that why you came here?” Her mother asked.
“That...and I...I screwed up.” Myka said. “When I heard about Michael’s death. I just blew up...and Claudia saw that. I couldn’t...can’t face her. For a minute, I felt like Michael,” she admitted, “with all that anger inside. I wondered...” She trailed off.
“Myka Ophelia Bering, you are nothing like him. You are good and beautiful and kind.” Her mother said, smoothing her hair back lovingly. “But if you truly want to prove you aren’t like him, then you need to go back to your friend. You need to do what Michael could never do. You need to own up to your mistakes.” Her mother stared her straight in the eye. “You need to apologize.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be that easy. I really hurt her. I mean...I never laid a finger on her, but...I could tell I hurt her.”
“I never said it would be easy. But just know, Myka, that one of the reasons your sister loved you was for that trait: that you were willing to take on any challenge, no matter how hard.” She said, kissing Myka on the forehead and leaving the kitchen and Myka, who was staring absentmindedly into space, thinking.
But she still wasn’t sure, Myka thought, coming back to the present of her parent’s empty bookstore, of her decisions, even though she had been thinking about it since the conversation with her mother. And she hadn't been able to rid herself of the uneasiness of the decision she knew she had to make soon - to keep away from Claudia for her own good or to go back and make amends with her. Which would Tracy have wanted? Staying away from Claudia might even be a sign that she cared about Claudia’s happiness more than her own - that she was willing to give up the Warehouse to keep Claudia from fearing her. And the others - was she doing them a favor too? Would she blow up again and have them witness someday the same fury that she had attacked Michael with?
‘I wish I could know what you wanted, Tracy. I wish I knew what Claudia wanted.’ Myka thought. Then she remembered Claudia’s words about Tracy watching over her, and then remembered her plea to Tracy to keep her from losing Claudia - only to have it go unanswered. Tracy was gone - but Myka still knew that she had to honor her wishes, even if only to live up to the person she had been in Tracy’s mind.
Not even the comfortable, warm atmosphere of her father’s bookstore could ease her mind. With the amount of pain she was in, her hand felt like it was on fire. Biting her lip, she tried to concentrate on the book in front of her: “As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.” Thanks Shakespeare.
Giving up on her book for the night, Myka put it down and went to go get a glass of water. She walked into the kitchen when a sudden wave of heat swept over her entire body, making her gasp and grasp the kitchen counter. Her hand suddenly felt like it was about to explode, like the bones were trying to rearrange themselves again... She tried to wait the pain out, but after a minute she came to the horrifying conclusion that it wasn’t going away.
She fumbled and pulled out the Farnsworth that she always kept on her - though she hadn’t used it and no one had called since she had left Leena’s - and flipped it open.
Contacting the one person who she hoped could make the pain go away, she managed to stammer out: “Pain. Bad.” But through the blinding pain she wasn’t even sure if the person had answered in time.
Her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell to the kitchen floor. She wanted to black out, to fall into the comfortable darkness, but realized that she wasn’t blacking out anytime soon - the pain was insufferable, the heat unbearable, but her body wasn’t letting her fall unconscious. ‘It was like the flu,’ Myka thought, as another wave of heat wreaked her body. She was going to be miserable, but she wasn’t going to be allowed to have the soothing arms of darkness take her. She lay on the floor, parents and friends miles away from her, communication cut off, as she was unable to move due to the pain spreading through her body.