"Come along, you," Helena said, addressing the sealed static bag in her hands as she made headway for the backseat of the car.
"Yeah, no more whammying for you, buddy," Pete said, warily eyeing the bag containing the neutralized Schrödinger's cat's-paw as he offered Helena the front seat instead. "I am so done with paradoxes, you guys. I bet I'm gonna wake up with at least ten grey hairs tomorrow."
"Bringing your grey-hair count to twenty, right?" Myka replied, deadpan.
With a dramatic gasp, Pete checked his reflection in the car window, scrutinizing his hairline. Myka grinned as made her way around the vehicle, catching Helena's demur smile out of the corner of her eye.
They were alive. Helena was relieved to call this full-fledged mission back in the field, the first since Myka's return and subsequent post-medical-leave reinstatement following months of keeping Myka company during inventory, a success.
Helena had been on the catwalk, idly surveying the endless landscape of artifacts that filled the impossibly-vast room. Every now and then, her gaze was caught by sudden bolts of crackling energy snapping from one aisle to the next. She leaned on her forearms against the railing, one foot propped over the other, smiling as she inhaled the achingly familiar aroma of apples. To her right, Claudia was perched on the edge of an Adirondack, studying the chessboard before her, eyes squinted in concentration, her mouth moving, shaping voiceless words.
The softest of smiles lit Helena's face; they'd been at this game for some time now, had begun right around Helena's initial reinstatement, and it was with a low voice Pete had confessed to her that Claudia had strictly forbidden anyone else from touching the board or interfering with the play during Helena's absence. She'd been delighted to see, upon her return, that Claudia had evidently given thought as to how to counter Helena's zwischenzug, which had been several plays into a series of moves she had devised to break Claudia's streak, and her parting gift to the young agent.
"She wouldn't have played that if she didn't plan to finish!" Claudia had exclaimed one afternoon as she chased a harried Artie back into the office and Steve had laughed from his place at the computer, before quickly exiting out of his own game of online chess.
Helena had been watching from the corner of her eye as Claudia's fingers came to rest upon a chess piece when Myka had appeared on the other side of the window in the office, her short locks (which were slowly growing back in a fury of curls) tucked under a knobby knitted hat. She had a file in her hands.
Myka had looked out the window before closing the door to the umbilicus behind her, was reassured to see that Artie had kept his word regarding Helena's second reinstatement, and only hoped he would take as kindly to Myka's request to return to work as he had Helena's (and by kindly, she really just meant furrowed eyebrows and grumbly…begrudgingess. Begrudgingness? Was that even a word? Myka made a mental note to look up long-term effects of the maintenance medications she was on later. And, for good measure, made a mental note to remember said mental note.)
Helena was against the doorframe of the office now, watching in earnest as Myka made her case to Artie. She brought a hand to the locket at her chest, felt the swell of pride and admiration and utter affection in her heart, listened with a small smile as Artie made her promise she'd stick to inventory for the time being, until her physician and Dr. Calder had each approved her for field work, felt a twinge of…something when Myka quirked a barely-there eyebrow at Artie's mention of Dr. Calder and the way he waved his hands in mild exasperation to change the subject.
Welcome back, darling.
The artifact had been successfully snagged, bagged, and tagged. They were finally going home.
"Hey, Mykes, you drive," called Pete as he tossed the keys over the car. Myka caught them with a smirk as she approached the driver's door—
Crack!
Glass shattered. There was a collective scream from passers-by on the street and Helena hit the pavement, watching with wide eyes as Pete instinctively crouched next to her alongside the car while drawing his sidearm in one fluid, practiced movement. He was scanning not the street itself, Helena noticed, but the rooftops of the buildings opposite them. His shoulders were tense, hunched, but he held the gun with loose ease. She in turn steadied herself with a deep inhale of rank city-street air that wafted up from a nearby storm drain, watching people scatter in every direction around them as she drew the Tesla from her holster.
Pressed against the sidewalk, Helena turned her head in an attempt to get a visual on Myka, who should've heard it too, should've been coming around the car by now. She couldn't see anything but concrete and—
Helena watched in horrified silence as a stream of blood beaded down from under the car, following the incline of the street towards the sidewalk.
Pete was still scanning rooftops when he saw Helena dart from the corner of his eye.
"HG, wait!"
It was with an uncharacteristic amount of willpower that Pete kept himself behind the car long enough to ascertain any potential lingering threats.
And then he heard Helena scream.
"MYKA!"
Ice replaced the blood in Pete's veins.
Helena didn't scream. Not ever.
He scanned the rooftops again and, having not found what he was looking for—a glint of sunlight off a scope, a silhouette framed by a window, sudden movements along a roofline—emerged from cover, handgun raised, and rounded the car.
They were all exposed on the street. If they were going to move to better cover, now was as good a time as any.
He stepped out from the other side of the vehicle and halted, the grip on his sidearm faltering, as a nightmare materialized on the street before him.