A/N: Recently I can't get the idea of a Bering and Wells baby out of my head. This story will take Myka and Helena through the journey of having a child together. Though the first chapter is angsty, there will be copious amounts of fluff and happiness to come. The title is an H.G. Wells quote from The Anatomy of Frustration. Feedback and suggestions are much appreciated. Hope you enjoy the story!
The question has weighed heavily on Myka's mind since she introduced Helena to her family this afternoon. Since Myka's three-year-old nephew had taken such a shine to Helena that by the end of the afternoon he had been calling her Aunt Helena. Since Myka had watched Helena spend nearly a half-hour with the little boy discussing the proper way to make an ice cream sundae while smiling like she didn't have a care in the world. It's not the first time Myka has wondered, but maybe it is finally time to ask.
"Is something wrong?" Helena asks when she comes out of the bathroom to find Myka staring into space with A Study in Scarlet sitting idly in her lap.
"I need to ask you something, but I don't want to upset you."
Helena's heart pounds painfully in her chest. Her mind jumps to Myka's health; has the cancer come back? Helena feels like she can't breathe.
Myka sees the fear written on Helena's face. "No, it's nothing bad," Myka reassures quickly. She's two years cancer free, but the specter of the illness and the threat of a recurrence are ever-present fears for both Helena and Myka.
Helena climbs into bed besides Myka, her face still etched with worry. Myka smiles gently. "I promise this isn't bad," Myka whispers, but she feels so uncertain and Myka hates uncertainty.
"It's just something that we've never talked about. And since we're together now, we probably should. Because it's the kind of thing that couples talk about."
Helena tries to take deep breaths and calm herself. It's difficult for her mind not to jump to the worst possibility. "What is it, my love?"
"Do you want to have another child?"
The question takes Helena by surprise. She's never let herself think about the possibility.
"I'm sorry," Myka says immediately when she sees how very upset Helena appears. "We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."
"No, no," Helena says quickly, finally finding her footing enough to speak. But then she doesn't know what to say, because she truly doesn't know if having another child is something that she could do.
Myka lets the silence play out, giving Helena time. After a few long minutes Helena finally speaks. "I'm sorry Myka," she whispers, feeling uncomfortable with her inability to find any words.
Myka reaches out her arm hoping that Helena will welcome the embrace. Helena moves closer to Myka, leaning against her chest slightly as Myka wraps an arm around her lover.
"It's ok if you don't want more kids," Myka reassures. "I don't even know if I do. I just…I see the way you light up with children, and I didn't want you not to have that again if you want it."
Helena's eyes fill with tears. Myka's caring and love is overwhelming, and even after three years together Helena still struggles to accept being loved like this.
The memory of how much joy Helena's darling daughter had brought her fills Helena's mind; she thinks of how unexpected and wonderful loving Christina had been, how miraculous a gift she had been.
"I don't…" Helena begins, but she trails off.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Please tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking quite a lot of things at the moment."
"Such as?" Myka asks, her lips curving into an impatient smile.
And then Helena is thinking something completely different. She's thinking of Myka. Myka cradling their baby. Myka reading to their child. Myka teaching their brilliant child all about the endless wonders of the world.
Myka watches as Helena's face seems to glow with a brilliant smile. "What are you thinking?" Myka asks again.
"I was just thinking of you with our child," Helena replies, because it is so much easier to share the good than to share her seemingly endless fears and guilt.
"It's a terrifying thought, isn't it?" Myka jokes. "You'd have to teach me a lot."
Helena looks at Myka with such seriousness and confidence that Myka almost believes her words. "You would be an incredible mother." Myka scoffs at that. "What would ever make you think you wouldn't be a good mother?"
"You met my parents," Myka says, like this should clear everything up. "I don't really know a lot about functional parenting. It took my father almost dying for us to even speak."
"And despite that you turned into the most amazing woman I have ever known. You understand love. You loved me and believed in me even when you shouldn't have. That's how I know you will be a great mother."
"I think there may be more to it than loving the kid."
Helena smiles. "Changing nappies and bedtime routines you can learn. What matters is loving and accepting your child. The rest of it will just fall into place."
Helena sees the skeptical expression on Myka's face. "It's true. I certainly had no idea what I was doing when Christina came along, but she was awfully forgiving of my mistakes."
Helena's face drops as her mind flitters from the small mistakes she had made in her child's infancy to the one that had cost Christina her life.
Myka watches Helena's face fall, and she knows in an instant where Helena's mind has gone. "Christina's death wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it? I should have been with her, but I left her with my cousins. I was selfish Myka," Helena says, her voice dripping with shame and self-loathing. "I was off on an adventure while my daughter was being murdered."
Myka places her hands on Helena's cheeks. "It was not your fault." Myka stares at Helena; it feels almost unbearable to look at how much pain Helena's eyes hold right now. "It wasn't your fault Helena. I know that you were an amazing mother."
Helena shakes her head as tears begin to leak from her eyes breaking Myka's heart further. "Any child would be lucky to have you as their mother," Myka says, her own voice thick with the beginnings of tears.
"I should have been there," Helena cries.
"You can't be with a kid constantly. You left Christina with family. You couldn't have known what would happen."
Helena sniffles back her tears. She doesn't believe the words Myka has spoken, but she knows that Myka does. "Thank you for saying that."
"I said it because it's the truth."
Helena's hand reaches up to clutch at her locket. Helena sighs and decides to share her thoughts, even though she knows Myka will tell her it's ridiculous. "I don't deserve to have another child. I couldn't protect Christina."
"You tried everything in your power to save her. You went back in time, and it still wasn't possible. It was beyond your control."
"I'm her mother. It was my job to protect her."
"You did everything you could," Myka says, wondering how she can make Helena believe this. "Everything that anyone could."
Helena feels sick, can see the images of Christina's bloodied body when she blinks back the tears that threaten again. It's too much to think about, and so she does her best to push the images of her daughter from her mind.
Myka sees Helena struggling to rebuild the walls around those painful memories. She wonders how Helena lives with this pain, how she goes through each day carrying this. Myka understands how desperately Helena needs to box away those memories.
"I'm sorry for reminding you of what happened to your Christina," Myka whispers.
Helena smiles at the way Myka says your Christina. Myka has always honored Christina's place in Helena's heart. "Don't be sorry. I don't ever want to forget her. Even if that means being in pain, I won't forget her."
Myka reaches up and wraps her hand around Helena's, atop the locket. "Are you afraid that if you had another child you would forget Christina?" Myka asks gently. Helena doesn't answer, but Myka can see the fear written on her face. "Nothing could make you love Christina less. You know that," Myka insists as she settles a palm against Helena's chest. "You loved Adelaide, and I know that didn't change how much you love Christina."
Helena's throat burns with sobs desperate to escape. "I felt like I was betraying her. As much as I knew I was betraying you with Nate, I was betraying Christina by loving Adelaide like a daughter."
And then Helena is sobbing. For the first time since she emerged from bronze, Helena is sobbing uncontrollably for her daughter. Fierce, painful sobs that wrack her chest. Crying so hard that she can barely catch her breath. Her chest aches and Helena fears that she will be consumed by the pain if she doesn't stop crying soon.
Myka wraps her arms around Helena, holding on tightly and wishing desperately that there were a way to take Helena's pain away, to give her back the daughter that she lost.
In Myka's arms, Helena lets go. She lets the pain and the loss and the grief crash down on her. She lets herself cry harder and harder and be consumed by a sadness that seems never ending. She clutches onto Myka desperately.
"You haven't betrayed Christina," Myka promises.
"Your daughter loved you," Myka whispers. "She would want you to be happy."
"It wasn't your fault." Myka repeats.
Helena cries and cries as she listens to the words that she struggles to believe.
Myka sits there holding Helena and patiently waiting for her to run out of tears. When she finally does, Helena feels utterly exhausted. She feels emptied out, lighter, and so utterly without protection. When she pulls back she sees Myka smiling gently at her.
"Thank you," Helena says in a horse voice. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that." Hysterics were for the Victorian women that Helena so despised. Helena had trained herself to be dignified, to refrain from displays of emotion.
"It's ok that you did."
Helena's head throbs from the intensity of her crying. "You intended for us to have a conversation, and instead I cried in your arms. I'm sorry Myka. I barely even asked you if you want a baby."
"I told you. If you don't want to talk about this then I would never force you."
"No," Helena begins hesitantly. "I do." Even hearing Myka mention the idea of having children together had been enough to stir a longing in Helena that she doesn't think she'll be able to simply bury. "Perhaps tomorrow."
It frightens Helena what has been brought to the surface with Myka's question. It scares Helena to want something so much that she knows she should never have.
"Whenever you're ready. There's no need to rush."
Helena nods and tries to push from her mind thoughts that are far too complicated for her to deal with in the wake of her breakdown. "I love you Myka."
"I love you too."
"If it's all right with you, I think I just want to go to sleep now."
"Of course." Myka pulls Helena against her chest as she lies down. She runs her hands through Helena's hair. The pain radiating off of Helena's body is still palpable, and Myka wonders if she made a mistake by bringing up children at all. But then she thinks of the way Helena's face had lit up at the thought of Myka with their child, and Myka knows that the conversation isn't over. Myka realizes that she better get her head straightened out about how she feels about children, because she is fairly certain that beneath the grief and guilt, Helena wants to be a mother again.
Myka's heart races in her chest with terror at the thought of children. Tomorrow she can tell that to Helena, tomorrow she can let Helena reassure her that she won't screw up their kid. But for now Helena needs her.
Helena curls against Myka's side and wraps her arms firmly around her lover's waist. Helena thinks of Christina, of the baby suckling at her breast, the toddler taking her first steps, the inquisitive child she had grown to be. Helena thinks of how joy had returned to her life after so long when she had met Myka. Joy that Helena still feels guilty for experiencing, but joy that she has let in nonetheless. She thinks of how wonderful it could be to have a baby with Myka and wonders if Christina could forgive her for loving another child. Helena wonders if she could forgive herself.