I sit right here, holding the years
And I count all the stars in space
xxXxx
It was too big, even for her. The past, the present, tomorrow. Everything had changed and there had been no time to catch up. No time for reflection. Helena had always been a busy person; even in bronze her mind had worked full-time. But what few people knew was how dependent she was on quiet moments to put her life into context.
Now was such a moment.
The sky was a brilliant tapestry of darkness and light. Watching it, she was overcome by the familiar, strangely comforting sensation of how small a piece of the whole the Earth was. How small a piece she was. The incomprehensible vastness had never frightened her; it was a source of peace and protection. She enjoyed the way her chest filled with wonder, and the light, almost dizzying sensation in her head as she watched the distant fires burn. The fact that some of them had gone out decades ago was part of what had initiated her fascination with time travel. Even before Christina, she had spent endless hours trying to make sense of the paradoxes surrounding time. To be able to watch the past like this was breath-taking.
As was the silence.
xXx
She had a lot to be thankful for. But as it often was, these moments also held regret, longing, and sadness so profound it had driven her to actions that now filled her with an overwhelming sense of shame.
Helena had been a mother once.
When Christina was born, the midwife had informed her in a no-nonsense voice that she now had a long-term responsibility on her hands.
How she wished it had been long.
Christina was everything Helena had been as a child, and more. She would have grown up to be something extraordinary.
xXx
Helena put her legs up on the hammock and hugged her knees to her chest, eyes closing to the beauty of the stars. In her own sky there was only darkness. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to remember her daughter in this detail. But now she found there was no stopping the images that flashed by fast in her head. Christina running up and down the stairs so fast that her laughter seemed to follow in her wake like thunder after a bolt of lightning. Christina resting her head on Helena's shoulder, half-asleep but refusing to admit she was tired. Christina drawing a map of London with an accuracy that suggested intelligence far beyond her years. Her smell, the texture of her hair, the way she was completely captured by everything she did.
Helena's body shook. She could not remember the last time she had cried – really cried – over Christina either. It was suddenly easy to let it happen.
xXx
That is how Myka found her much later.
Instead of saying anything, Myka observed silently from the doorway for a while before returning inside to prepare another cup of tea. Taking it outside, she took care to bump into the doorframe to let Helena know she was there. She saw her tense in response.
"Hey…" Myka said softly. "I made you tea. Do you want to be alone?"
Helena relaxed, wiping at her tears and smiling weakly. "No, please sit. Tea sounds lovely, thank you."
Myka settled down next to her, reaching for a blanket and pulling it over both their legs. They sipped at their tea. Myka settled back and took in the sky.
"Wow…what a clear night…"
Helena hummed in agreement.
Myka made no effort to speak more after that and the silence settled around them, not oppressive but simply there. After drinking half of her tea, though, Helena smiled genuinely into her cup and turned to Myka.
"You always know."
Myka reached for her hand.
"So do you."
And it was true.
xXx
They sat hand in hand under the infinite sky, and watched the stars of the past sparkle mysteriously. Some time after their tea had gone cold, Helena rested her head against Myka's shoulder and let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. Later still, Myka reached out and put her arms around Helena's small form so that she rested against her chest.
Helena closed her eyes, but the bright light of the stars stayed with her, imprinted on the back of her eyelids. She fondly recalled a night much like this when she had pointed out the constellations to Christina for the first time.
The knot in her chest slowly loosened as Myka's steady heartbeat lulled her to sleep.