Well. It's been quite a week, and while I have quite a bit more of my other fic, Dirty Little Secrets, written, I didn't really feel like editing and posting something that deals with elections in the US just now. I hope you'll forgive me. I'll post a new bit of it soon(ish), I promise.

Las Vegas, Saturday morning, 10am

The sunlight streaming through the window was cutting directly into her brain via her optic nerve. She tried to turn her head, but the resultant nausea had her rolling onto her side. She fell out of bed and ran into the bathroom, barely taking in her surroundings as she did so. She was in a hotel room, she noted distantly, but she thought little else for a while, throwing up impressive amounts for the next ten to twenty minutes. When her system was entirely empty of food and liquid, she washed out her mouth several times, brushed her teeth, and then washed her mouth out again. She heard a moan from behind her, back inside the hotel room. It made her jump. She hadn't been aware that she had company. She hadn't been aware of much since waking.

As she stepped into the room, she noted that there was someone under the covers, next to where she'd been sleeping. In the same bed, to be precise. But Sam had just broken up with her, and she was here in Vegas… why was she here, in Vegas? Oh yeah. Because she was heartbroken, and because Pete and Leena insisted she had some fun.

"Hello?" she said, quietly. "Hello? Person in bed with me?"

She poked at the body under the covers experimentally, and was rewarded with another groan.

"Go away," the person under the covers said. In a distinctly sulky English accent, the vowels rich and full. And it was female. Myka didn't remember a woman. She didn't really remember anything, though, so she supposed it didn't make much difference. And hey, at least this way she didn't have to worry about a pregnancy scare, right? Probably. Though it might be an idea not to jump to conclusions, given the circumstances. She had been very drunk, and this was Vegas.

She poked at the covers again, and the English woman grunted something about sodding off. Myka smiled. She had always enjoyed the English accent and their whole vocabulary thing. With the sodding and the bollocks. It was really cute. On the right person, of course - which begged the question: who the hell was this woman?

Myka pulled the covers down, carefully so as not to embarrass anyone. She was dressed in her usual bedtime attire – shorts and a tank, but she didn't know if her bedpartner was. The woman was a mass of black hair that was probably sleek and beautiful normally. At the moment, she looked a bit like Cousin It, and Myka was pretty sure that she could see a small pool of drool next to the woman's head.

"Are you trying to kill me?" the woman demanded. She sat up and then groaned. She pushed some of the hair back from her face and looked up at Myka with one eye open. Myka almost gasped. Even with one eye closed and her hair in disarray, she was quite possibly the most stunning woman Myka had ever seen.

"Sorry," Myka said. "I just figured we should probably get up. And you should probably, like, go back to your own room?"

"I beg your pardon?" the woman asked, and now she was throwing her hair back out of her face, staring haughtily at Myka with both eyes open. "Is this how you treat all your overnight guests?"

Myka shrugged, her face starting to heat up.

"I don't do this sort of thing, normally, and honestly, I don't even remember you," she said. The woman raised an eyebrow.

"You don't remember anything? Well, I must be losing my touch," she said, with a hint of a smirk, and Myka's stomach flipped over lazily. She had confidence, Myka would give her that. And she was hot. So, so hot. Like, model hot.

"I don't normally drink so much," Myka said. "I'm sure you were great, I just – I can't remember anything."

The woman pouted.

"Just great? I really am losing my touch," she said. "Would you mind if I at least used the bathroom before you throw me out?"

"Sure, of course," Myka said. It was the least she could do, right? Plus, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted the woman to go, now. She was… interesting.

"Could I borrow something to wear?" the woman asked, indicating her bare shoulders. Myka reddened and went to her bag, pulling out a t-shirt and shorts and passing them to the woman, turning her back to give her privacy. She heard the woman laugh delightedly as she turned, and ground her teeth for a second. She was trying to be polite, for Christ's sake. Since when was that funny?

The woman was in and out of the bathroom in ten minutes or so, returning wrapped in a bathrobe with her hair wet. She really was stunning, and Myka tried not to stare, but she had to admit that it was difficult to look away.

"Well. I do feel better after that," the woman exclaimed, holding a hand out to Myka. They shook hands, and she introduced herself. "Helena Wells, since you've obviously forgotten. And you are Myka," she said, thoughtfully.

"How do you remember anything?" Myka asked.

"I think I just handle my liquor a little better than you do," Helena said, with a smile. Myka shrugged.

"I don't normally drink much; I just had a bad week," she said, and Helena nodded.

"I know. Your boyfriend, Sam was it? He sounds like a right pillock, by the way. Unworthy of you."

"Well. Thank you," Myka said. Clearly, she'd talked to this woman about Sam. Why didn't she remember anything?

"You're quite welcome. You can obviously do better," Helena said, again with the smirking, and Myka didn't know whether to find it endearing or infuriating. It was sexy, however, and she took a deep breath to settle herself.

"Should we go and get some breakfast?" she asked, and Helena nodded.

"Let me just find my clothes," she said, wandering around the room picking up discarded items, including an extremely skimpy g-string. Myka blushed again, turning away and ignoring the snort from behind her.

Bellagio Casino and Hotel Buffet

The woman – Helena – filled her plate at the breakfast buffet with sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs and hash browns. Myka gave her a disgusted look and picked up some non-fat yoghurt and fruit, giving in enough to her growling stomach that she grabbed a slice of cinnamon French toast. They sat down and a moment later Pete, Leena and two people Myka didn't know (but who looked vaguely familiar) appeared to join them, as if from nowhere.

"Hey guys, nice to see you both – did you have a good night?" Pete asked with a wink. Myka scowled at him. She hated it when she had been the one who was out of control – normally it was Pete who did stupid things. He didn't drink or do drugs, but still managed to get himself in ridiculous situations on a fairly regular basis.

"It was… well, honestly, I'm not sure," Helena said, with a slight frown. "I seem to have a bit of hole in the middle of my memory. I remember meeting you all," she said, nodding at Pete and Leena and Myka, "but I cannot remember what happened after we finished playing on those slot machines."

Pete and Leena shared wide-eyed looks.

"Uh… what about you, Mykes?" Pete asked.

"I barely remember a thing," she said. "I didn't even know who she was," she said, pointing a thumb at Helena, who scowled at her.

"Oh," Pete said, and he and Leena shared another look. A more anxious look this time.

"You guys don't remember anything important, then, that might have happened?" Helena's friend said – a short redheaded girl.

"No," Myka said. "Are we missing something, here?"

Helena's other friend, a short Asian woman who had a huge smirk on her face, looked from Myka to Helena, wearing the face of a person who was about to deliver bad news. And was delighted by the opportunity.

"Guys, you got married last night. In that Elvis chapel, you know the famous one? Helena, you told Myka that since her boyfriend had been stupid enough to let her go, you would make an honest woman of her. We did try to stop you," she said, turning up her palms in a display of helplessness. Myka's mouth fell open. She had married the hot English woman? The annoying hot English woman? She turned to look at Helena, who was looking at her with an expression of mild horror.

"Shit," Myka said, quietly, and Helena nodded.

"Shit, indeed."

Myka looked down at her left hand, wondering how she'd missed it before. It was a band, decorated with beautiful silver filigree and small green stones, making it look like foliage with leaves interspersed through it. It was absolutely stunning.

"To match your eyes," Helena had said, wearing a pointy paper hat that was entirely askew, her eyes glassy.

The memories came flooding back.

Thursday, New York, the Monterey at Park

Leena finished icing the cake, her hand steady, and Myka immediately hugged her. Leena was, in so many ways, her rock. With all this weirdness with Sam, she'd been there every time Myka needed her. And now she was helping with this party, even though she plainly thought that Sam didn't deserve it.

"You're the best friend anyone could ever have," Myka said, and Leena blushed a little. She and Myka had a thing, once, long before Sam, but it hadn't worked out. Myka suspected that Leena still had feelings for her, so she was always extra careful with Leena's feelings.

Pete came bounding over, suddenly.

"He's coming up in the elevator. Places, people!" he shouted, and everyone hid behind the couch and the other furnishings. Myka made her way to the door and turned off the lights, stepping into the entryway to wait for Sam.

When the elevator doors opened, his face changed from tired and expectant to disappointed. Had he not expected her to be here?

"Hey, babe, I'm sorry. I'm really tired, I was just hoping to go to bed," he said.

"I… I thought we should celebrate your birthday, you know?" she said, and he sighed.

"Mykes, I… look, I really care about you, and I appreciate all the things you do for me," he began, and Myka froze. She had heard this particular speech before.

"I especially appreciate the things you tried with my butt, you know? It was really nice, and it totally worked for me, just so you know," he said.

Okay. Maybe not this exact speech.

"I just think – I think we should take a break. I mean, it's been great and all, but I want to try to be more spontaneous, and you're just… you like to make lists all the time, and you've got everything planned out," he continued. Myka's face was reddening with humiliation and the tears were starting to leak out of her now-closed eyes.

"I'm really sorry, Bunny," he said soothingly, and Myka only just resisted the urge to kick him in the nuts. She must have told him a hundred times how much she hated that fucking nickname, and now he uses it to break up with her?

She stepped back and turned the lights on, and everyone slowly stood up from their positions, saying, "surprise!" quietly, and not looking either of them in the eye. Except for Pete and Leena, who were watching Myka in concern.

"Happy birthday, Sam," Myka said quietly and she picked up the bag she'd packed in advance for Vegas, walking out of the apartment and down the stairs. She heard Leena and Pete follow her and when she reached the street, she stopped, because she didn't have anywhere to go. She started crying in earnest when her friends reached her and wrapped her up in their arms.

Leena's apartment, Lower Brooklyn, later that night

Myka was trying to sleep in the spare room of Leena's apartment. She had endured one of the worst days she could remember for a long time. She was so tired of her job, tired of not making a difference like she'd promised herself. She only got into finance as a stopgap. She'd run out of money before graduate school, so she took a year out, initially, to save some money. The money was good; she couldn't deny that. But she was so tired of the cutthroat politics, and there was this promotion coming up, and Sally Stukowski was totally knifing her in the back at every opportunity. And now this thing with Sam. It was as if every part of her life was imploding and she had no control over any of it. She didn't even have a place to live.

The only thing she had going for her was the fact that she had two tickets to Vegas and a booking for a really nice suite. And both Pete and Leena were going to come along. She had a long weekend in Vegas to look forward to, at least.

Bellagio Casino and Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada

Friday

It had been a fairly uneventful trip. Leena had taken Sam's ticket and Pete had bought his own, and he had happily ensconced himself in Economy Class with as much food as he could fit in his hand luggage. Myka was already a little drunk by the time they checked in, and she had a long nap in the incredibly romantic room that she'd booked. Alone. She dressed and met Leena and Pete for dinner, and that's when they met Helena.

"Excuse me, darlings, but I think you're sitting at our table," said a wonderfully rich English voice. Myka turned her head and said, with a tight smile, that she didn't think so. It took an effort not to gasp at how utterly, devastatingly gorgeous the woman was. She was one of the whitest people Myka had ever seen (besides Myka herself, who had the complexion of cow's milk). But her hair was darkest midnight, and her eyes – well, they looked black but were probably brown. She was wearing a red dress and the contrast with her hair was sinfully sexy.

"I'm afraid so. You see, the waiter just showed us to the table, but he got called over to another table before he could seat us. So this is, as you can probably work out, our table," she said, with a charming smile that Myka saw Pete responding to. He'd probably let her sit on his lap if she asked nicely. Or at all. Myka was pretty sure that she would let the woman sit on her lap, too.

"I'm sorry, lady, but a waiter also seated us. We didn't just walk in and sit down. So maybe you should go find your waiter, and get you and your friends seated somewhere else," Myka said, this time without a smile.

"Well, someone's uptight! You're not exactly in the Vegas state of mind, are you?" the woman said, tilting her head, a smirk on her face.

"I am in a perfectly fine state of mind, lady. You're the one trying to muscle in on our table," Myka said, stiffening. Sam had accused her of sucking the fun out of everything, and now this woman was saying that she was uptight. She wasn't in the mood. Even if the woman was the most ridiculously sexy person she'd ever met.

The waiter finally appeared, apologising profusely for the mix-up, but the woman smiled archly at him and said something about him having to do better than that…

The next thing they knew, they were all seated at a larger table overlooking the fountains with promises of free drinks and VIP access to clubs and parties all over the strip. And somehow they were all sitting together – Helena, the gorgeous woman, and her friends Claudia and Abigail. The free drinks helped things along; they all started chatting, and while Pete and Abigail seemed to hate one another, Claudia and Leena were getting on really well. And Helena – well, she had zeroed in on Myka and had turned on the charm. She apologised for her earlier behaviour, and confided that she'd just been fired by her brother.

"He's a writer. Charles Wells? You might know him as HC Wells – he wanted to use my initials but I refused," Helena explained, leaning close to Myka, her eyes dark but somehow sparkling.

"I've read like… all of his books!" Myka exclaimed, finishing off a giant cocktail that had 4 or 5 kinds of alcohol in it. She was starting to get really buzzed. "What are your initials?" she asked, her eyes opening wide, her barriers dropping one by one as Helena looked at her as if she was the most interesting person in the room.

"HG – Helena George, for my great-grandfather. Charles was always jealous that I got the traditional family initials, but Dad wanted to name Charles after our uncle, so I got to be HG Wells," she said with a self-deprecating shrug, and Myka leaned forward to listen more intently. "The bugger fired me just because I came in late. Well. I mean, it was the fifth time. That week. And I was overdue with an edit. So I suppose… but he's my brother," she said, beginning to slur her words a tiny bit. "He's supposed to forgive me, just because he wanted to shag that model and she left with me; he's just bloody jealous," she said, frowning darkly.

They visited six or seven different clubs and bars on the Strip, and by 10.30 Myka was so drunk that she couldn't see straight. She couldn't do anything else straight, either, apparently. Helena had been in the middle of a sentence, something about Sam and how he didn't deserve Myka, and that's when Myka leaned in a little more and kissed her, and then they were making out like horny teenagers. Horny teenagers on Viagra. They were lucky not to get thrown out. Pete, was very, very appreciative, until Abigail punched him in the crotch. Hard. Then he cried about his 'guys' for almost an hour.

There was some messing around at a roulette table that Myka couldn't fully remember, and then the wedding chapel. They bought some sort of package deal with rings included, for Pride month, apparently, and then they got married. Married and drunk and then they were in bed and Myka was having the most incredible orgasms she'd ever had. Helena was totally blowing her mind, and Myka did her best to return the favour. It had been a while since she'd been with a woman, but she had always enjoyed it. Attention to detail was key, she'd always thought, in pretty much any situation. So she listened and observed Helena's reactions, and was rewarded with some pretty intense screaming from her new wife and a complaint from the front desk about the noise. She giggled as she answered the phone and apologised, then went right back to what she'd been doing before. She wasn't sure when they both fell asleep, but she was quite sated and Helena had told her, like, seven times that she loved her, so Myka figured that she must have been satisfied too. And then Myka had woken up and thrown up and now she was married. Married.

The Bellagio, late Saturday morning

"Well. It seems we have a few things to sort out," Helena said, awkwardly. Myka laughed.

"Yeah. I'll say," Myka said, staring at the ring on her finger. She couldn't believe she'd managed to get drunk enough to get married to someone she'd just met. And she couldn't look at Helena without seeing images from the night before. The marriage part was a huge mistake, but the sex part? That was incredible, an experience she wouldn't mind repeating. She tried to look at anything but Helena, but her eyes kept wandering back to the woman next to her. She knew her face was red, but she couldn't seem to stop blushing.

They ate in virtual silence, apart from the odd snarky comment between Pete and Abigail, who seemed to hate each other. Myka had never seen Pete like that with anyone; he was normally so nice to everyone. But now that she remembered, Abigail had punched him in his manhood at least twice the night before. After breakfast Myka raised an eyebrow at Helena and nodded, and they left their friends sitting together so they could sort this mess out. They went to stand beside the slot machines, and Helena played a few tokens idly as they stood there.

"You know, I had a really great time last night," Myka began, rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

"I did, too. You've remembered what happened, then?" Helena asked, with a raised eyebrow, and Myka reddened before nodding.

"I had a great night, but you know I wasn't really looking for anything serious, and then I woke up and we were married, and…"

"Are you trying to let me down gently, Myka?" Helena asked, and Myka nodded guiltily.

"No need to worry," Helena said brightly. "I was trying to work out how to do the same thing. Claudia tells me, after a little googling, that we should be able to annul the marriage, what with us being inebriated and all. Does that seem like a plan, to you?"

"I… yeah, I guess," Myka said. She wanted out of this, right? So why did she feel disappointed at the prospect? And upset that Helena was so blasé about it?

"Okay, then. I think we could sort it out before the end of the day, if we're lucky enough to get in to see a judge today," Helena said, taking her phone from her back pocket and swiping at the screen.

"Okay, I got it, Helena. You can't wait to get away from me," she snapped, and Helena looked up in surprise.

"No, that's not it, I just… you just said you weren't looking for anything serious, did you not?" Helena said, her face dismayed.

"I… fine. Let's just get this over with," Myka said, and Helena nodded, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Look, Myka, I…"

A loud voice interrupted her.

"Myka Bering?" came a voice from behind them both. Myka turned and found a casino official bearing down on her. He was wearing a wide smile, however, so she gathered that she wasn't in trouble, at least.

"Hi?" she said, confused.

"Ma'am, I have your winnings from the roulette table last night. You asked me to keep them for you, so you could go and," he made quotation marks with his fingers, "marry the crap out of your girl." He smiled at Helena, and took in their identical rings. "I see that you managed to do that, so I assume congratulations are in order?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess?" Myka said, wondering why she had given her winnings to this guy.

"If you'd like to follow me to my office, we can bag up your winnings safely," the official said. Myka looked a little closer – his name was Javier Moran.

"Thank you, Mr Moran," she said, and he turned and smiled at her.

"Please, call me Javi. Everyone does," he said.

"Of course. Javi. Thank you," she said, and found that Helena was following her too.

"You don't need to come along, Helena," Myka said. "I think I can manage to pick up my winnings on my own."

"Why would he be offering to bag it up for you?" Helena asked, one eyebrow up quizzically. "It must be a lot of money."

"Fine, follow me then. Whatever," Myka said. They reached the small office and Javi closed it behind them before opening a small safe in the corner and taking out bundles of money. Large, large bundles of money.

"Uh – how much money is this, exactly?" Myka asked, wide-eyed.

"$3.5 million," Javi said, offhandedly, as if it was a normal amount of money that they were talking about, and not $3.5 million.

"What the…" Myka gasped, and Helena smiled at her.

"$3.5 million? She won $3.5 million on roulette?" Helena asked

"It was a combination of games, I believe. Blackjack, too. And craps. Don't you remember?" Javi asked, tilting his head.

"I was really drunk last night, Javi," Myka said.

"I was aware of that, Ms Bering, but I had thought that you were sober enough to remember, at least," he said, smiling. "But that is remarkable – that you managed to gamble so well even though you were inebriated. There was some worry that you might have been counting cards, but the casino manager came down and was satisfied that there was no way someone could count cards when they were that inebriated," he said, his smile growing wider.

"Well, I guess I just had a lucky night," Myka said, with a shrug. She couldn't honestly remember gambling ever before in her life.

"Would you like me to keep this in the hotel safe for you until you leave?" Javi asked.

"I… I'm not sure," Myka said.

"I think that would be a good idea, don't you, Myka? Keeping it in your room is probably not safe," Helena said smoothly. Myka was so utterly bewildered that she just nodded, and Javi made a quick call on the phone in his office, arranging for a guard to come and move the cash.

"Thank you, Javi," Helena said, shaking his hand, and she pulled Myka along with her. Myka still hadn't taken it in. She'd won millions of dollars in a casino. Her life was about to change. And Sam could go and suck it. She was going to have so much fun…

"I think perhaps we should rethink our decision, Myka," Helena said, startling her from her reverie.

"What do you mean?" Myka asked, frowning.

"I mean, perhaps we were too hasty, in talking about annulments and the like. I mean, we like each other, we have obvious chemistry," Helena began, but Myka held her hand up.

"Wait a minute, Helena. A second ago you were all, like, you weren't looking for anything serious, and now you want to see where this goes? It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I just became a millionaire, now, would it?" Myka asked, and she was seriously pissed when Helena flushed.

"I… well. It is a lot of money, and…"

"Never mind, Helena. It is a lot of money. But it's my money, not yours."

"Well. Given the circumstances, I'd say that half of it is mine," Helena said. "Or is that in California?" she wondered absently.

"I don't think so, Helena," Myka snapped. "You and I both know that this was a mistake, two people hooking up and doing something stupid when they were drunk. There is no way you're going to convince a judge that we really meant to get married."

Helena crossed her arms.

"We'll see about that."

Sunday morning, 11am, Clark County Courthouse.

The following morning Myka was glaring at Helena across an almost empty courtroom. Claudia had some sort of hacking mojo that she had worked on various cameras across the strip, and together the pictures she'd printed painted a picture of a couple in love.

"Your Honour, we met at dinner on Friday night," Myka protested. "There is no way that can be considered a basis for a marriage!"

"And yet, you chose to marry Miss Wells despite only knowing her for, what – four hours?" the judge asked, his eyebrows raised.

"I was inebriated, your Honour," she said, her voice rising to a whine. "My fiancé broke up with me and I was here drowning my sorrows," she said.

"Am I supposed to be impressed by that, Miss Bering?" he asked, and she dropped her eyes.

"Now, if I understand you correctly, you, Miss Bering, managed to win a large amount of money gambling last night, despite your inebriation," he said severely, glaring at her over his glasses. She dropped her eyes again. This guy clearly had it in for her, and she didn't want to make it any worse.

"And now you and Miss Wells are married, and she wants to try to make this marriage work, and wants you to share the money you made gambling," the judge went on. Myka nodded and then glared at Helena, who was painting quite the contrite and sober picture in a dress suit and waistcoat, wearing a pair of glasses that Myka was fairly sure she didn't need. Her own eyes were red-rimmed and her contacts were making them itch terribly. She wished she'd thought of wearing her glasses.

"You know, I used to say to idiot people like you that it wasn't gay people who were spoiling marriage for everyone, it was people who were getting married in Vegas without even knowing each other. And now here you are, proving me wrong. Not only didn't you know one another first, but you're a gay couple, and I would have thought that since you were only granted the right to marry a year ago, you might treat marriage with a little more respect!" he ranted, and Myka bit back the comment that she wasn't actually gay, but bisexual. She didn't think it would help her, in the circumstances.

"I don't like either of you," the judge continued, and Helena pouted. Myka snorted in derision, only to drop her eyes again when the judge glared at her. "I don't feel like being charitable today. So I'm holding your winnings hostage. If you want this money, you're going to have to prove that you actually tried to make your marriage work. I am sentencing you to 6 months' hard marriage!" he said, banging his gavel in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion. A few seconds later, they were ushered out of the court and handed some documentation. They had to live together for the next six months and see a marriage counsellor once a week. If they were not considered by the counsellor be working on their marriage, the money would be forfeit. Myka was grinding her teeth; that money was going to pay off her student loans, which at last glance were in the region of $150,000. And her dad's store was in trouble; she had enjoyed some pleasant dreams (for approximately ten minutes before Helena scuppered them) of paying off his debts and sprucing up the store for him. She could do this; couldn't she? Her job was hell on earth and she was still there after years. How much worse could it be to live with Helena for six months?

Myka hadn't realised when she left Sam's apartment that she was now effectively homeless. Helena had a place but it was a studio apartment in the Bronx.

"Look, we can't live in a studio apartment together," Myka argued. "That's just ridiculous."

"Well, unless you can afford something better, we're going to have to, aren't we?" Helena said with a sneer. Myka only just resisted the urge to slap her.

"I swear, Wells, there better be enough room for me to sleep, at least," Myka said.

Tuesday evening, Helena (and Myka's) apartment, the Bronx

Two days later, she was standing in what passed as an apartment in the Bronx. Well. Almost standing, because there was virtually no room anywhere to do anything.

"Wait a minute," Helena said, with a grunt, coming in behind Myka with a box of her belongings. She dumped it on the floor without ceremony, and Myka gritted her teeth. That box had some of her photographs in it and she was pretty sure she'd heard a smash when Helena dropped it.

Helena heaved the bed out of the way and it disappeared into the wall. It was an actual bed that folded into the wall.

"Is this a real apartment?" Myka asked, actually stunned by the tiny space.

"Yes, it is, and it's all I can afford," Helena said huffily.

It was a far cry from Sam's place in Midtown. This apartment could have fitted into the bathroom of Sam's apartment with room to spare. It looked like the kind of place that should smell funny; somehow, however, it didn't.

"You will notice that despite the size of the place, it is actually clean and cockroach and mould-free," Helena said haughtily.

"I did notice. How did you manage that?" Myka asked, impressed despite herself.

"I designed a system – well, Claudia helped too," Helena said, following a loud throat-clearing from the hallway, "to deal with the damp problem, and another device to attract vermin and insects. There is a pest company that come by once a week to empty out the traps outside. They actually paid us a little bit for the design; they're using it in a couple of other apartments."

"Wow," Myka said, seriously impressed. "I didn't know you invented stuff, too."

"Well. It's just a bit of tinkering," Helena said, a blush rising from her neck to her face.

Myka found herself shoved unceremoniously out of the way as Claudia barged in with the last of her belongings.

"Here you go, Mrs Wells," she said with a sneer, going to dump the last box at Myka's feet. However, a quiet noise from Leena, who was behind her, made her freeze.

"Um, sorry. Here you go, that's the last of it," she said, attempting a smile and backing away after placing the last box gently at Myka's feet. Leena smiled at her and she blushed so brightly that it could have powered the city block for a month. Myka couldn't help but smile; at least some good had come out of this fiasco. As she looked around the tiny apartment with its tiny bathroom and negligible living space, she wondered how the hell she was going to do this. She needed her space; she was an introvert, most of the time, and there was nowhere for her to go. There was nowhere for anyone to go in this tiny little room.

"It'll be okay, Myka. If you ever need some space, you can come by. I have a spare room that you can use, any time," Leena said, stepping up beside her and pretty much reading her mind, as usual.

"Thanks, Leena," Myka said, and she noticed that Helena was looking at her worriedly. She glared, and Helena's face tightened. She flounced across the room to sit on the sofa, turning on some dreadful rock music that Myka didn't recognise.

"What the hell is this crap?" she asked, putting her hands over her ears, and Claudia stuck her head back in the room to glare at her.

"It's my band, dumbass," she said, with narrowed eyes. Leena coughed quietly and Claudia subsided, backing out of the room.

"Okay, guys, we're going to leave you to it. Good luck. And call me anytime," Leena said, aiming that last remark at Myka, who nodded.

"Thanks," she said, giving Leena a quick hug and waving vaguely at Claudia. They closed the door behind them and Myka found herself trapped in her new home with her new wife. It was going to be a long six months.