Myka and HG finally had that kid they’ve always wanted…
She would be a cop too. Its not that she doesn’t love the Warehouse, hell its her second home, but the Warehouse is what her parents do. Its what they ARE, and as fascinating and exciting and amusing as the stories her mother’s tell her about artifacts are, at the end of the day its the humans behind the artifacts that fascinate her. Solving crimes is a puzzle just as challenging and complex as chasing any artifact and while there are days she hates its - those times when they are too little, too late, and an innocent life is gone forever - there are days that more than make up for it.
When a family is reunited. When a victim gets justice. When a little girl’s faith in the rightness of the world is repaired, if only just a little.
She loves her moms, they will always be heroes to her.
But she’s a cop, and these streets are where she belongs.
One time they just can’t seem to figure it out. There’s always a piece missing, a loose end, something that doesn’t fit.
They were up all night and now that morning time has come, the bullpen starts to fill around them. Frustrated, her partner throws his pen on the desk, furiously rubbing the fatigue from his stubbly face. She looks up. “Nothing?” “Nothing.”
“Hmm.” She leans back in her chair. Her eyes thoughtfully narrowed, she palpates her teeth with her tongue in a way that people tell her is ‘totally her mom’.
“I have an idea.” She reaches for the phone and points the receiver at her partner while she’s dialing. “But just - just don’t ask, okay?”
“Alright, what are you-“
“Yes, this is Detective Bering-Wells. I have a question concerning the night of your husband’s… disappearance. Did you, by any chance, smell fudge at any point in time?”
He looked at his partner across the parking lot talking to some guy in his forties, broad shoulders, buzz cut. She’d called him some odd nickname. Jinx?
She’d assured him that everything was settled and called in the IOU of “I’m your partner, trust me” she’d earned on that case involving one his ex-girlfriends.
As she walked over to him, he saw the other Gman-looking guy fold up a metallic bag. This was just so weird.
“So, B’n’W, I’ll follow your lead on this being over with, but what’re we supposed to tell the Captain?”
“Well, the husband’s back, the wife’s happy, no one’s dead.” She smiled, showing the dimples that only appeared when she was very happy — or yelling at him her loudest. “We’ll just tell him it must have been some bad mushrooms.”
OMG THERE’S MORE!
He likes her, like really likes her in the way a partner should not like her. It’s been making him uncomfortable for weeks now, just thinking about how sometimes she gets this look on her face and then disappears down to the station basement for a few hours. They’ll think she’s gone off and died or something down there, only to find her passed out amongst the records, a stack of files to her left. They’re cold cases, marked with a weird almost Egyptian-looking symbol on the faded manila envelopes they’re encased within.
“Why do you do it?” he asks her as she takes the coffee he hands her wordlessly and gulps it down. ”You could sleep at home, you know?”
She gives him this weak sort of a smile and shakes her her head solemnly. ”My mother says I have a mania about me, sleep comes like it does for her - rarely.”
He finds himself smirking in response. ”Sleep… is somewhat overrated, I’ll give it that.”
She nods, and then looks away, almost sadly.
And he remembers her mother is dead - missing for some ten years now. She’s never mentioned a father.
He leaves her down there in the basement to her mania and her cold cases. He doesn’t know what else to do.