by rory midhani

You know that scene in Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts and Richard Gere go to the opera and he says, “People’s reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic; they either love it or they hate it. If they love it, they will always love it. If they don’t, they may learn to appreciate it, but it will never become part of their soul.” I think that’s what shipping is like. Most couples, you get why a lot of folks love them, you see the appeal, you like to watch them, enjoy reading their stories, but every once in a while a couple comes along that lights you up inside like fire. Myka Bering and H.G. Wells from Warehouse 13 are one of only four couples to ever do that to me, and the love I have for them never fades or wavers. Here are 15 of my favorite fics about one of my all-time favorite pairings.

An American Warehouse Agent In Paris (and London) by trancer

Plot: What if a single wish in the Warehouse could change the course of history?
Length: 18,000 words

Feet skidding to a stop, Myka froze, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she stared at a book. Her book. In such a rush to leave the Warehouse, she’d left so many things behind, treasured things and didn’t have the courage to call and have them delivered back to Colorado Springs.

She touched the cover with her fingers, smiling at the familiarity of it. A gift from her father. It was old, leather bound, a first edition. No matter how delicately Myka treated the book, it was a little more worn around the edges than when she first received it almost fifteen years ago; a little more worn because Myka made an effort to read it at least once every year. Myka pulled it into her hands, letting it fall open to the title page. She ran her fingers over the text as if she could bring it to life.

‘The Time Machine by H.G. Wells’

But, there was more on the title page than was there the last time Myka read the book. And Myka’s fingers drifted down to the inscription.

‘To Myka,

For showing a heart filled with nothing but pain that it was capable of loving again.

H.G. Wells’

Classification Error by harper_m

Plot: Some Bering and Wells sex in the Warehouse near a miscategorized artifact leads to an accidental pregnancy.
Length: 11,000 words

“Myka,” she said softly, hopefully, and Myka reacted on instinct, closing the sphere and sending Helena back.

Having the room be suddenly empty was almost as shocking as having Helena there with her. There was appeal in both, even if she’d like to deny any sort of comfort she took in the latter. But, comfort wasn’t her purpose. Doing the right thing because it was the right thing to do was, and she knew that the longer she delayed it, the harder it would be in coming. So, she took a deep breath, considered how ridiculous it was that she was going to have this conversation with a hologram, and opened it again.

This time, Helena looked confused. “Myka?” she asked tentatively, hand fiddling with the locket around her neck. “Do we have a case? Is something wrong?”

Myka felt as if her face was made of stone. From Helena’s expression, it was likely that it looked like it, too.

“There’s something you should know,” she said, uncomfortably aware of just how formal and distant she sounded. She couldn’t think of any way to make it sound any prettier than it was, so she didn’t try. “I’m pregnant.”

Face of the Unknown by PunkyStarshine

Plot: Oh, this is a Pretty Little Liars/Warehouse 13 crossover, all right, and it will defy all your expectations.
Length: 40,000 words

Myka and Helena walked into the Warehouse with a bedraggled Pete in tow. Rubbing his eyes, he grunted, “NOW can I have the donuts?”

Myka tossed him the bag of donuts she was carrying and smirked at him. “Good boy, here’s your treat.” Pete stuck out his tongue and happily dove into his breakfast. Helena poured herself and Myka some coffee while Myka got the scoop from Artie. “What’s going on?”

“We got a ping in a town called Rosewood, not too far from Philadelphia. A little town with little worth noting, except that this is the third time we’ve been pinged from there in the past two years.”

“If this is the third time we’ve been pinged, why haven’t we been there before?”

“The pings were never definitively caused by an artifact, just an unusual amount of energy. It’s possible artifacts were being created, or found but not used, or even used but destroyed before it was enough to warrant our attention.”

“What’s going on now?” Helena asked, handing Myka her coffee and standing beside her.

Claudia turned around from the computer she had been typing furiously on and spoke even faster than she had been typing. “So I’ve been looking into the electrical patterns of the town over the past two years and there is a CRAZY spike in data usage that all began on one specific date – September 1st, 2010. I’m not talking ‘oh all the high school kids were given iPads for their history classes’. I’m talking technological warfare.”

Helena, The Doctor, and River Song by Ursula

Plot: Doctor Who/Warehouse 13 crossover, yes!
Length: Drabble length

They’ve never fought about it. Somehow he’s managed to traverse the minefield of Helena’s lifetime without entering the periods when she’d shoot him for even mentioning time travel: though their discussions have been a touch heated once or twice, he’s never had to run for his life. River he doesn’t know about. He suspects that they’ve met in his absence; in the last year before her bronzing Helena starts to look more softly at River, as if they’re keeping some tender secret from him. It doesn’t stop them arguing, of course. Helena will argue with anyone given half the chance, especially someone who claims to know more than she does. River probably enjoys it.

It’s a dreadful thing to think, but he likes Helena better once she’s broken. He’s seen his share of wide-eyed innocents – taken quite a few of them for a spin in the TARDIS, too – and while Helena makes a pretty one, black humour and cynicism suit her better. It’s something about the set of her eyes, the way her lip curls into a mirthless smile. The way she smokes, too, when she’s nursing cold anger, when the glow of a cigarette and the bitter taste of tobacco fit her mood.

Untitled Adorable Kitten Fic by DeathToDickens

Plot: Click through so you can experience the fullness of the adorableness with the fan art.
Length: Drabble length

That time when Christina Bering-Wells managed to keep a kitten hidden in her room, away from her mothers, for two weeks without them knowing before Helena became suspicious as to why their daughter’s room had remained clutter-free in all that time.

Before Helena confirmed the motive was to keep her out.

And had she expected a tiny orange ball of fur to go scurrying past her when she opened Christina’s closet door, she might have been better prepared to then warn her wife about the hastily escaping fur ball before she, too, opened a door from which the little rodent managed his escape into the wild outdoors.

This Gentle Sting (Between Us) by journaliar

Plot: It’s a WH13/BSG crossover!
Length: 8,700 words

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Pete asks out of the side of his mouth as people fall into rank around the two of you and Tigh bellows for everyone to look sharp.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” You hiss even as you glance over your shoulder, eyes sweeping the crowd quickly in search of Helena before turning forward when Tigh barks your name. “We’re just friends now.”

“Oh yeah, friends. I forgot.” Pete smirks, nudging your shoulder with his and you roll your eyes and push him back.

“She has a lot of stuff going on.” You argue and Pete just nods in the patronizing way that you hate even though he knows the stuff you‘re talking about, has spent long nights listening to you talk about those things. “Complicated stuff.”

“Mykes, the world ended and we’re being chased around space by murderous robots…how complicated can it really be?” Pete says without looking at you and you stare down at your boots, duck your head against the wave of excitement that surges across the deck as a Raptor docks smoothly.

“Made it just in time.” Helena declares, emerging from the back of the crowd and sliding into position at your other side easily, when you glance at her she smiles at you warmly and you bite down your own answering grin.

“Fashionably late.” You murmur and Helena deliberately slides her arm against yours.

just like the ones I used to know by ellabell

Plot: Myka and Pete need H.G.’s help to find an artifact that makes it snow.
Length: 1,800 words

So she focused on the case.

“As far as we know, the artefact has been used six times: Chicago in 1967, Ontario and Quebec in 1971, the Buffalo Blizzard in 1977, and all over New England in 1978.” She recited, even though Helena was looking at the file directly. “We lost track of it for a while but we think it caused the huge storm over the entire East Coast in 1993, and then it lied dormant for thirteen years until the snowfall in New York in 2006.”

Helena was quiet, and Myka found herself glancing over at the other woman, engrossed in the papers. The sunlight was hitting her hair in a way that made it glimmer, and Myka was brought back to the single time she touched it, ran her fingers through it, let her fingernails scrape at Helena’s scalp and hear the moan she made when Myka bit at her lip…

And she had to stop that line of thinking. “They were all really big storms, though some were obviously worse than others. They estimate that the one in ’93 affected half of the US population, and New York wasn’t technically a blizzard because the winds weren’t strong enough. The one in New England in ’78 was so bad because it struck in the afternoon and everyone was stranded at work, but the one in Montreal is my favourite because it cancelled a Habs game. A hockey game,” she laughed suddenly, surprised by its loudness in the car. “In Montreal,” she said again, but this time with a little less conviction.

“We don’t have to do this,” Helena said softly, and Myka glanced at her again, but Helena didn’t look up from her lap. Still, one of Helena’s hands were clenched and the other seemed to be digging her fingernails into her thigh (and that brought up another image that Myka didn’t want to think about, nope) and Myka sighed.

The Vodka Made Me Do It Series by MFAngeleeta

Plot: A collection of glorious drabbles.
Length: A lot, and every one of them a treasure!

The sun was red and hazy in the distance. Helena felt every drop of sweat fall from her brow and down her cheek. Pete looked no better than her, flush with the heat and from frustration.

“Every year it’s a little worse,” he had said when they exited the truck in some small Texas town. (She knew the name but thinking was difficult at the moment.)

She looked at him questioningly.

“The heat.”

She’d been an agent for many years in the late 19th century. Now she had equaled her tenure in the early 21st and for not the first time she wondered if retirement wasn’t in the near future. The town lay in waste thanks to another artifact that found its way into the hand of someone it shouldn’t. This time is was a helmet from a solider that had fought in the Kosovo conflict.

Helena had given up questioning how artifacts traveled globally. All she knew is that this one would be in the dark vault soon.

“Ready?” Pete asked as they stood at the door. This was the last unchecked apartment in the questionable building on the outskirts of town.

“Yes,” HG nodded, taking the safety off of her gun. They’d decided that Tesla’s wouldn’t be enough in this case.

(Yes it was definitely time to retire.)

Untitled Drabble by typeytypeytypey

Plot: Once again, click through for the art for the full effect!
Length: Drabble length

“Myka? May I ask why you’re mistreating your laptop? It seems to be rather resistant to your efforts.”

“I just” *BANG* “want to find” *BANG* “the one” *BANG* “damned” *BANG* “word” *BANG* “I need” *BANG* “in this damned document.” She balled her fists in frustration and looked up at

Helena, who was curled serenely in her favorite reading chair across the room.
“And you can find it by pounding on the keys?”

Myka ignored the patronizing tone and the hint of a smirk. She returned her hard gaze to her screen and breathed heavily through her nose a few times.

“Well, I could if the stupid ctrl-f would work.”

Helena calmly inserted a slip of paper between the pages to mark her spot before unfolding her legs and slinking lithely to her feet. The sound of the book being set on the table drew Myka’s attention, and Helena’s graceful, sensual approach switched Myka’s brain from fuming to fascinated in an instant.

I’ve Just Seen a Face by Attila

Plot: Fluffy cops and robbers fic, in two parts!
Length: 4,500 words

“Haha,” Claudia says dryly. “Can you get Myka back for me, though? I kind of need her.”

Pete holds a hand to his heart in affected hurt. “What, I’m not good enough for you anymore?”

“Not even close,” Claudia says, shoving him. “Besides, I kind of promised H.G. that Myka’d be the one to question her. She didn’t want to come at first, and there’s, like, an off-chance that she might actually be involved with this one. Nothing warrant-worthy, though.”

Pete frowns. “Which case?”

“The museum robbery,” Claudia says. “You know, the thing with the—”

“Right, yeah,” Pete says. “That did kind of look like her style. Sure, I can get Myka back, no problem.” He pulls out his phone, dialing quickly and holding it to his ear. “Hey, Myka?” he says. “Listen, can you come back to the station? I’ve gotten into a bit of— No, dude, I swear I didn’t mean your mother— Seriously, Myka, you might need to smooth over some— You know assaulting a police officer’s seriously illegal, right? Oh, god, what are you—no, don’t—”

As he lowers the phone, she can hear a tinny, “Pete? Pete?” coming from it.

“And, scene,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Ten minutes, tops.”

Claudia buries her head in her arms, laughing. “Man, she’s gonna kill you.”

“I’m counting on your sexy criminal to distract her,” Pete says.

“Oh, she’ll distract her,” Claudia says. “And then she’ll kill you.”

A Pirate’s Life For Me by RaceTheWind10

Plot: The ultimate Warehouse 13 fic!
Length: 56,000 words

“That’s Captain H.G. Wells if you please,” replied the other woman mildly.

Myka wasn’t sure what she would have said – and there was plenty to say to one of the Warehouse’s most notorious former agents – but as she took an angry step forward, her body betrayed her and the world tilted, greyness dancing in her vision as her legs gave out. She had a split second to realize that this was going to hurt and then…

Nothing.

The Commander never hit the deck. Instead she found herself caught in slender arms and the part of Myka Bering that wasn’t incredibly incensed that her body had the ill grace to nearly faint on her was equally incensed that she was quite impressed with how fast Captain Wells had moved.

“Careful darling, my physician and I worked very hard to keep you among the living, I’d hate to have all our work undone.”

The words were gentle and low and held the barest hint of mocking, but when Myka blinked to clear her vision and glare back at the woman holding her close, she found the dark eyes above her were soft, no trace of humor lurking at the corners of that sensuous mouth.

Sensuous, where the hell did that come from…?

“Mykes?” Claudia’s worried voice sounded from above her and the Commander forced herself to focus on it.

“I’m fine Claudia,” she forced out, pleased that her voice sounded steady enough. “If Captain Wells would be so good as to help me stand.” Myka wasn’t even sure why she made the title an insult but Wells merely quirked the corner of her mouth and carefully helped her up.

“I assure you Commander, my intentions are most honorable,” she said softly before stepping away.

The Shape of Things to Come by celaenos

Plot: If Bering and Wells were Castle and Beckett, it would look a lot like this!
Length: 81,000 words

Myka glared across the table at Helena and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. As promised, the raven haired author had shown up promptly at 8:59am clad with coffee and a wickedly annoying grin. Despite the fact that Myka was secretly a huge fan of the author’s novels, she couldn’t help but find herself incredibly irritated with the woman herself. She was cocky, arrogant, and some of her comments would have bordered on sexual harassment had she actually worked here. The two of them had been reading letters for almost three hours so far and Myka was a little sick of reading about how much men – and women – loved the author. She groaned and dropped a particularly graphic letter from a woman named Kelsey, listing all the things the two of them could do together in bed. HG Wells was a known player and Myka had seen many a different man and woman on her arm in page six.

Myka looked up at HG curiously and caught the older woman steeling a glance over the letter currently in her hand. “What?” Myka asked roughly. It was the third time she had caught HG doing that.

“Oh, nothing.” The woman said causally. “Just, the way your eyebrow furrows like that when you’re concentrating. It’s very cute. Not if you were trying your hand at poker however, then it would be deadly, but otherwise…”

Myka cut her off. “Does any of this ever bother you?” She asked, waving the letter and effectively changing the subject. Compliments, actually intended or not, had never been something she was comfortable with.

HG curiously reached out and skimmed the page, her mouth turning into the smirk Myka was getting used to. “Not at all, she sounds like a very fun woman to know.” Myka glared disapprovingly and HG wisely closed her mouth, taking the top letter and opening it up only to find her hand slapped away. “I don’t usually like it rough darling but I could get used to it if you like.” HG said without looking at the taller woman.

“Gloves.” Myka practically growled out. She had reminded the woman four times already. “And it’s Detective Bering.”

“That’s so formal.” HG whined.

“This happens to be a formal business situation.” Myka retorted back. She turned away and began sifting back through the letters. “It really doesn’t bother you that they get so graphic and literally think they are in love with you? Perfect strangers?” She scoffed.

“Jealous?” HG wriggled her eyebrows and pulled her gloves back on, ignoring Myka’s glare.

she pales the light of day by holistic details

Plot: Bering and Wells college AU!
Length: 35,000 words

“Myka!” H.G. smiles, blinding in the half-light of street lamps and dormitories. “How long has it been since we last saw each other?” Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to hear Myka’s stammered attempts at a response. “Come out here,” she continues. “Tell me how you’re doing.” Reluctantly, Myka gets out of the car, holding the door in front of her as a shield until the last possible minute – she probably should have worn something heavier than a sweatshirt.

“I’m fine,” Myka replies weakly, raising her hand in an approximation of a wave. “Going to go study for the Constitutional Law final.” It’s not a class they share; H.G.’s courses focus on engineering and business, but she nods anyway, frowning sympathetically. Myka blows on her hands, trying to warm up. “It shouldn’t be too hard,” she adds.

“That’s good to hear.” H.G. slips her hands into her pockets which, coupled with her smile, is an oddly charming gesture. “We must arrange a meeting soon, I haven’t seen you for ages.”

It genuinely sounds like an invitation and Myka smiles as she shivers, to think of this incredibly popular, incredibly smart girl ever lacking enough for friends that she would want Myka’s company.

“Would you like my coat?” H.G. asks suddenly, and Myka snaps out of her daze.

“What?” Myka watches in alarm as H.G. makes to unzip her jacket. “No! No, that’s okay.” Myka covers H.G.’s hands with her own.

H.G. hisses out a breath at Myka’s touch. “You’re so cold!”

Endless Wonder by chakramchaser

Plot: Harry Potter Hogwarts AU. Obviously Myka is a prefect.
Length: 20,000 words

The crisp autumn air filled Myka’s lungs as she stepped off the prefects’ train car. Students milled around her and she scanned the crowd for a familiar face. The repeated cry of “Firs’ years this way!” assaulted her ears as the lumbering figure of Hagrid came closer.

“Myka! Nice to see ye back,” he said cheerfully as he passed her. “An’ a prefect no less!”

“Hi, Hagrid,” she replied, surveying the crowd of first years behind him. She smiled encouragingly at them, remembering how terrified and overwhelmed she had been the first time she stepped off the Hogwarts Express and into the world she now called home.

Suddenly, she heard a someone calling her name. She turned around to see a tall boy in Hufflepuff robes bounding towards her, pushing through the crowd until he was at her side. He enveloped her in a hug that lifted her feet from the ground, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, Pete, did you have a good summer?” Myka asked. He nodded and launched into a story about his trip home to Ohio as they walked towards the carriages together. One of Myka’s biggest frustrations was the little amount of time she was able to spend with Pete, who had been her best friend since he inexplicably set her blue Ravenclaw tie on fire in first year Charms class.

“Anyway, how was your summer, Miss Perfect Prefect?” Pete teased, nudging Myka lightly on the shoulder. She wrinkled her nose at the nickname, which she hoped Pete would promptly forget.

The Future An Experiment by thrace

Plot: H.G. moves into Leena’s for a full-time job at the Warehouse.
Length: 7,000 words

“Welcome to Leena’s,” says Myka, ushering H.G. through the front door. She clasps her hands nervously as H.G. turns in a complete circle, taking in the house. Her eyes seem to be searching for something beyond the decor–perhaps escape routes and unorthodox exits. Myka can’t blame her.

“It’s very…cozy,” says H.G. She sounds unsure what to do with cozy, and Myka wonders if she’s just been living hotel room to hotel room this entire time, or if she found some place to hole up and hide. Whatever it was, Leena’s is sure to be a step above, oozing comfort as it does. The scent of pastry and sugar floats out of the kitchen and Myka can see H.G.’s nostrils flare subtly.

“Are you hungry?” Myka asks. “I’m sure we can find something…” She subsides, waiting for H.G. to speak, to act, to stop giving her that sly sideways look.

“Why don’t you show me upstairs?” H.G. suggests.

“Uh, okay.” Myka starts up the stairs, occasionally glancing behind her to make sure H.G. is following. She pauses at the top, on the landing, and points left and right. “You can pick any empty room. We’ll send for your stuff. You know, if there’s anything you want from London, or something.”

H.G. slips down the hallway, one hand brushing along the side tables and cabinets. She stops, turns to pin Myka with a mischievous stare. “Which one is your room?” she asks.

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