Midnight Coward
She woke with a start, like she'd just fallen from the ceiling onto her bed. She can hardly catch her breath. Helena wasn't a great sleeper to begin with but she hadn't had a dream that bad in a long time. It was a nightmare to imagine that she may have chosen to never return to the warehouse, the B&B, and Myka. It could have easily happened though; she could have taken the coward's way out. She came so close, but her troublesome mind reminded her that this, being here in this time, was her second chance at happiness. She couldn't just throw over a century of being bronzed away because she was scared that Myka would never care for her again. Afterall, she didn't have the luxury of thinking that. If staying away was a mistake then she could come back later because that might not be possible. Myka was sick so there might not ever be a later. It had to be now.
The first day, Myka wouldn't even look her in the eye, nor would Pete or Artie. The next day was not much better; she knew it would take a long time for Myka to get over the thought of Nate and feeling abandoned. Eventually, Pete and Artie began to warm up and understand why she was back and why it had taken so long, while Claudia and Steve continued to treat her like she was a sad puppy. It had been four months now and everyone seemed comfortable with having her back, except for Myka, but she had worked up to a "good morning" or the odd "hi" from Myka. At least that happened when Myka was feeling well enough to walk around the B&B, which was rare but Dr. Calder said that Myka's cancer was beginning to recede. So with hope, soon Myka would be better.
Helena threw off the blankets and placed her bare feet on the cool wooden floor. After her dream of giving up on Myka and the thunderstorm outside her window, there was little to no chance of her ever getting back to sleep. She wasn't going to be the midnight coward lying in bed wondering when Myka would be ready. She would never be able to explain it to anyone else, Helena just had this feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was time; Myka would be ready.
Helena slowly and quietly shut Myka's creaky door behind her. She stood there staring at Myka surrounded by flashing lights and charts. Normally, she could hardly think over the sound of the machines, but tonight the sound of rain coming down hard on the roof drowned out all other noises. The room seemed a little less intimidating, almost peaceful, if not for the loud cracks of thunder that shook the house.
Myka was curled up on her side so Helena couldn't see whether or not she was awake. So Helena continued to just stand there and wait for a sign, a sound or some kind of movement.
"Helena I can feel you staring at me," said a small voice muffled by pillows and blankets.
"I'm sorry. I just… ummm… well you see…" Helena just could not come up with the words. She'd gone over this scenario a million times in her head, but now the fantastic author was at a loss for words.
During the stuttering and mumbling, without turning to face Helena, Myka reached behind herself and moved back the covers. Exposing a space on the bed big enough for Helena to fit.
Helena stopped talking and didn't waste any time crawling into bed. She cautiously worked around wires and strange tubes to press herself against Myka's back. She wrapped her arm around Myka's frail body and held it close. After a few minutes, Myka slowly slipped her hand into Helena's; physically Myka's hand was cold but there was warmth to it. Warmth of unsaid feelings, warmth of forgiveness, warmth promising that tomorrow would be better.
They spent the rest of the night just lying there, neither one talking, just listening to the thunder, the rain on the roof and watching the flashes of lightning. Neither one of them worrying what this night meant for them, just enjoying this moment.