Headcanon: In the manual, there are instructions on how to pass on items or notes to family and friends after you die. Essentially a warehouse version of a will made necessary because 1) people die a lot and 2) an agent’s room is completely locked away in the warehouse after their death. No chance for family to take anything. Myka is the only one who both reads this section of the manual and finds it significant.
She writes a letter to Pete early on only a month or so after starting. It’s stiff and formal and filled with a lot of “it’s not your fault”. Because there’s a lot of things about him she’s not sold on yet, but she knows if (very possibly when) she dies at this warehouse, it will not be because of him, and she needs him to know that. She needs him to have that one last communication, that acknowledgement that this could all end in a single moment and that it was not under any circumstances his fault. She needs him to have that letter she never got from Sam.
She rewrites the letter every year.
Not on a set date. It’s not even the same month every time, but roughly once a year, she sits down and writes an updated letter to Pete and sends it through the system to the regents to file away. The letters get more personal. There’s still the reassurances and the “it’s not your fault”, but there’s also memories and sentiments, things they joke over or simply don’t say but that they should say at some point when they’re not running for their lives or bickering over who knocked over what artifact during inventory.
There’s a lot more apologies in the version she writes after returning to the warehouse.
The years go by, the letters get updated and replaced, and then one day Pete leaves. He walks out of the warehouse completely alive, complete unbronzed, un-evil, un-crazy, never to return again as a warehouse agent.
He’s fallen in love with someone, they’re married, they’re going to have a family.
The next letter is different.
She writes it sooner that year because Pete is gone and that feels weird. Sooner because Pete is apparently very fertile and will be having his first child soon and that’s important. Myka knows that’s important, knows already through Tracy that she likes being an aunt, and so she should include Pete’s children in the letter too. And she tries to write something for this new baby coming and all future ones that will come, she really does try, but anything she could say, any hopes and dreams she could write down for them seems off and false because the baby isn’t even in the world yet and it is far, far from being a full person with a personality and goals, so she stops trying to write to it. Instead, more words for Pete come out.
It’s not your fault.
It’s an old sentiment. One that’s been reigned in during these letters as their partnership and understanding of each other has grown, but has still always been present. Still stated in each and every one of these letters.
But it’s not a single statement this time. It’s sentence after sentence, several full paragraphs, telling him over and over that if she dies on a case one day, it is absolutely, one hundred percent, in no way his fault.
Because she saw the hesitation and the guilt when he left. Under the ear to ear grins and the really, REALLY loud and would-be-annoying-except-he-was-so-damn-happy exploding canons of confetti announcing he was going to be a dad, there was guilt. And worry. And fear. He thought he was abandoning them, abandoning her. His partner and his best friend.
So he has to know. He has to know that it isn’t his fault just because he wasn’t there. Because he’s going to have an incredible life, he’s going to be an amazing father, and he should never ever feel guilty over that. Really, she is so deeply proud of him. Anything that happens to her is not his fault. It’s important he knows that, that he knows it’s okay.
When she seals the envelope, she writes “keep” on the outside. It’s the last version she writes to Pete.