A/N Just a one-shot I felt I needed to write.
Disclaimer : I own nothing of Syfy.
Myka tapped her forefinger harder on the top of the steering wheel as she waited for the MOT crew to move the orange cone over so she could weave her way through the traffic nightmare.
She sighed as she thought about how the entire Interstate highway had to be closed, diverting all traffic to the small, local street through downtown.
"Thank god it's after midnight," she whispered to herself as she flashed her blue lights and badge at the men who had just risked arm and limb to shut down the freeway, dodging hard bumpers and a barrage of curses and middle fingers letting them know they were 'number one' for their delayed way to get home.
"Good evening, Detective Bering," The young, blonde man said as he tipped his hard hat to the detective. "The scene is just past the exit we are diverting traffic too," giving the lead investigator a strained smile as he clung just a bit too tightly to the orange cone as his knuckles turned white.
"How bad is it, Steve?"
"Something out of one of those horror shows on cable. But the blood is real, too real," he said with a grimace as his head turned. A few of the crew laughing as the lights from that vulture camera crew showed up.
"Hold them here. Per my orders," Myka stated bluntly as she scanned over to the media circus that was setting up tent near the coned area .
"I'll send a blue here to help you out," Myka said, slowly making her way through the detour.
Just a few yards down, she pulled her SUV in front of the two squad cars that sat near the … 'battlefield' Myka whispered as she tried to take in the scene before her. She jumped from the SUV, spirting to the back, she grabbed an arm full of yellow tarps.
"You, Lattimer, some help?" she yelled over the dull drum of cars exiting the freeway.
"Yeah, on it," the officer said as he started to rush over to the agent.
"Pete, watch out!" Myka yelled as the man slid on a lump of what used to be a living, breathing soul.
Her one free hand whipped a flash light, shining the bright beam on the lumps of red and grey spattered across the lanes of asphalt.
"Good going, Grace," Myka mumbled as she gingerly stepped over the congealed pools, her arm stretched out with the yellow tarp towards the officer.
"Let's get these parts covered before the press has a field day," Myka said, her head turning, a loose strand of curls coming free from her tightly bound ponytail as her and Pete tried to rush to cover up the body parts on the road.
"G Eezs, Myka, it's not like he is going to need this leg," Pete started to laugh, his head turning to the other officer on the scene.
"Where is the rest of him?" Myka asked with a stern voice, dusting off her hands as she propped herself up from her bent knees.
Both officers turning to the wall of the highway, their eyes looking at the blood trail leading over the cement barrier to the surface street twenty feet below.
"Hey, the cleanup crew is here," Pete laughed as Steve and Claudia got out of the MOT truck. "Why don't you two just toss the parts in your dump and then we can get the hell out of here, the diner's meatloaf special is on me" Pete said as he ribbed his fellow officer.
Steve rubbed Claudia's back as she vacated their evening meal before the start of their shift. "Why don't you shut the hell up, Lattimer!" Steve said thru gritted teeth as he steered his partner away from the scene. "She is just a civie" Steve growled.
"Enough!" Myka yelled. "Secure the scene and stand down," Myka ordered as she stood toe to toe with the officer. "Steve, clear the debris away so the CSI van can come up. Lattimer, get in your patrol car and start writing up your case report" Myka said in a monotone voice that sent Steve rushing, his young charge in tow to their truck.
"I have had just about enough of you, Pete. That 'stain', was loved by someone after all this is over," Myka voice was now raised above the drum of the onlookers from just down the road.
"He had a family, and of which, in a few hours, I will have to tell his family that that young man will never come back into their lives, to hug, to pester, to be anything, because of his …"
"His blatant disregard for his well-being, all in the name of love,"
The accented, raised voice echoed from the street below, causing all to stop. Steve gripped Claudia as they grabbed their brooms, Myka's head whipped around, her hand gripped onto to Pete's wrist as she dragged him with her.
She leaned over the cement wall, her backside a bit raised as she scanned the surface street below her for the emanation of that familiar, accented voice.
"Wowser, is that?!" Pete's voice stuttering as they both looked over and down the twenty foot drop. There, on bended knee was the lead CSI, her van and the bus next to what was once the young man, now but a splattered puzzle that was being bagged and tagged.
"Great, Wells is here," Pete groaned as he wrestled his wrist away from the grip of his 'head agent in charge'
"Come on, Miller. Lady Cuckoo is down there," Pete said as he grabbed his partner, bolting for their squad car as Myka went back to her own. Setting out the tape, snapping pictures and recording the accident scene.
…
"Do you mind?"
The accented voice shaking Myka away from her steadfast resolve of tracing her finger over the slight chip in the coffee mug Leena had set down in front of her an hour ago.
"No, please," Myka said automatically as she raised her eyes, her finger then steading on the crevice of the chip on the mug. Her other hand reaching automatically to pull back the reports and pictures of the accident scene.
"All in the name of love,"
"I'm sorry… what?" Myka stumbled over her words, trying to form some clear thought to all the last six hours had held.
"A knight, trying to procure the hand of his fair maiden," Helena shrugged her shoulders, her lips curling to a faint smile at the soft, understanding face that set her hot water down in front of her.
Myka just watched as slim fingers dipped their owner's private reserve tea bag into the preferred mug. Myka stilled her mug of coffee just before her lips as she watched the dance of steeped tea plunk into the hot water.
"The usual?" The young woman asked as her hazel eyes danced between the two women.
"Yes, please," Their voices as one as they both answered in unison.
"Helena?" Myka whispered as she stilled her hand on top of the older woman's.
"How can you say that? He was popping wheelies and at the moment of impact, was clocked at doing a hundred and fifteen?" Myka's brow furrowed even more as the soft caress of Helena's thumb pad eased her worried brow.
"He died without a name," Myka gulping down her words just as fiery as the scalding burnt water down her throat from the chipped mug of coffee.
"But you, in all your hearts glory, will not allow that to happen," Helena whispered. Her touch tender as her finger soothed her thumb against the back of Myka's hand.
"As I know you would never let my name die upon unheard lips"