By all accounts Helena should have been intrigued by the various seminars at the International Pathology Conference. So many brilliant scientific and investigative minds all gathered together in a posh hotel in downtown Denver with the express purpose of exchanging ideas and learning about the newest breakthroughs in the field. At the very least she should have been paying attention, as she wasn't, strictly speaking, licensed in the position she currently held, and watching various episodes of every show with an acronym for a title was only going to take her so far.
But she wasn't intrigued, or attentive, or enjoying herself, as Nate had bid her to when she left his house yesterday morning. His house. Their house? Two weeks ago Helena would have considered it their house and brushed past the mental designation without a second thought. Two weeks ago she had been both eager to attend the conference for its educational merits, and loath to be separated from Nate and Adelaide, whose tranquil and soothingly mundane existence had been a balm on her troubled soul.
Life as Emily Lake was easy, and she was as far removed from the life and death decisions that marked her tumultuous career as a Warehouse agent as she could bear. Her mind needed some stimulation after all; after 100 years immobilized in bronze, her exquisite brain idling and revving with nowhere to go, it had nearly torn itself to pieces once it was freed. No, Helena needed stimulation to remain sane, and more importantly, safe to others. And she supposed that continuing to work in law enforcement in some capacity was a small measure of penance. Not that it was ever possible to atone for trying to destroy the world by plunging it into a new ice age. But if it wasn't possible to go out in some heroic blaze of glory as Artie insisted she did, this would have to be enough.
Two weeks ago it was enough. Two weeks ago she was as close to resigned to her new life as she could make herself. But two weeks ago a man burst into the police station begging to be arrested, and the part of her that deep down would always be a Warehouse agent pinged. Two weeks ago she made a phone call she promised herself she'd never make; that she didn't deserve to make. Two weeks ago the precarious balance of her new life that she'd been so desperately trying to keep level came crashing down around her and she had been off-kilter ever since.
Nate had noticed, of course. Noticed how she'd been distant and withdrawn. Noticed how she avoided all but the most platonic of physical gestures, save one instance which had been entirely unprovoked and almost frantic, as if she were desperate to prove something. Helena closed her eyes and tried not to picture the puzzled look on Nate's face when he asked her what brought that on, or the increasingly concerned and vaguely hurt looks as she maneuvered their daily goodbye kisses onto her cheek every morning.
Closing her eyes wasn't the wisest choice, however, as in her desire to avoid thinking of Nate her mind was inevitably drawn to person who had been the cause of her unrest these past two weeks.
Myka.
Myka, with her lovely chestnut hair and expressive eyes. Myka, who could speak volumes with the twitch of a lip or the quirk of an eyebrow. Myka, who recklessly went off alone to save a little girl who had become so dear to Helena. Myka, who seemed the entire trip to Wisconsin to be physically pained to be in Helena's presence, and looked at her as if every word Helena spoke was wounding her further. Myka, who smiled at her through tears and bade her fight for Nate, and then took all the brightness and color of life with her when she left, returning Helena to the muted grays of the mundane existence she had chosen for herself.
Helena opened her eyes and sighed, staring at the hideous carpet that graced the floor of the conference room. It was futile. Her mind refused to focus, not on Nate, not on the presenter at the podium, only Myka.
Myka.
There was nothing for it. Helena picked up her bag and the notebook which held not a single note. It was pointless to stay at the conference if she was getting nothing out of it. And besides, the last time she'd been in Colorado she hadn't actually been in Colorado, so why not take the opportunity to remedy that? Colorado Springs was only an hour away, and it had seemed like such a lovely little bookshop. Certainly it deserved another visit now that she was physically able to browse the shelves. And if she happened to bump into the proprietor, she might mention that she was an acquaintance of his daughter and inquire after her. Who knows what might happen then.
South Dakota is somewhat on the way back to Wisconsin from Denver after all...