Disclaimer: I have no proprietary interest in the universe from which I borrow these guys. If I did, Instinct would not have happened.
AN: So, this is written to stand alone, but I've been bouncing the idea of a chapter-fic around. Let me know what you guys think. Also, the idea came after reading this fic, so click the link and give it a look. I enjoyed it. There is no infringement intended, but I found the idea an interesting one. I am not overly fond of the Regents, myself. .
Irene pulled along her charge, a weak thing barely more than the rags she wore. She was fairly delirious. She smelled, and she flinched like a wounded animal at the slightest provocation. It had taken almost half an hour just to get her out of the cell. There were times, thankfully few, where Irene wondered at the Regents. They were guardians, meant to protect, but, like all man, some took their title too literally, began to think themselves kings. The fools. They forgot their duty, their humanity. They forgot mercy. And Irene was none too afraid that they may be forced to remember that particular lesson after this latest lapse, even if it was only because they'd have to beg for it. Even the kindest soul can break under the necessary strain. And Irene was currently dragging along what may be that strain. God help them.
"Not much further," she murmured, pulling the frail thing along beside her. Faint mutterings filled the air, nonsense things that had come and gone with consciousness. After six months, Irene wasn't sure help was possible, but if it would happen anywhere, it was here. She had made it sufficiently clear that the Regents were not welcome. She protected the Warehouse; that included its agents. Her companion stumbled, not surprising, and she gripped the cargo tighter, heaving her higher against her shoulder. "Not much further."
The three steps leading to the front door posed the greatest challenge thus far, coordinating proving difficult. Weakened legs could only lift so far, and Irene was far too old to be hauling anything. That time passed somewhere around the Wilson Administration. And while it was infinitely entertaining to 'pop' around, spooking her agents, tandem was something she'd never perfected. Five minutes later, they made it over the last step and to the door, both panting heavily, the body in her arms shaking violently. The sweat and some blood plastered the shirt to her back, the slight breeze likely chilling her slight form. For just a moment Irene cuddled her closer and couldn't help remember a time when her own daughter had come running, scared of the dark. She used the one word that still managed to soothe, to quiet the woman, the one thing that could still offer some semblance of hope. "Myka." There was a shaky breath, a frantic clasping of her lapel, but the shivering subsided, the weight against her side lessened, ever so slightly.
The doorknob was cold and smooth in her hand. It twisted easily enough, the door swinging open with a creak, announcing her presence. She nudged the head that fell on her shoulder and pulled them forward. Irene was fairly certain she would have to burn her coat once she got home. The smell was truly horrible. They stumbled forward, coming to rest heavily against the bannister, her bundle wheezing, muttering again. "My—, My—, My—," over and over. They needed to get upstairs.
There was a gasp to their left, and Irene lifted a hand, stalling any forward motion from the intruder. Pete stood, frozen, in the archway from the kitchen, a cookie in hand, and crumbs littering the corner of his mouth. His eyes were wide, disbelieving, as he stared at them, darting back and forth between the women. Irene simply pointed to the living room, her intention perfectly clear as she projected the same calm she did in every situation. Sometimes, sometimes it was rather tiresome.
She watched Pete hesitate, taking a step forward before her charge made a low keening noise, trying to stumble away. "Mr. Lattimer." He stopped dead, the cookie breaking apart when it hit the hardwood. He took a step back, and another before turning away and stepping into the living room to wait, warning off the others from leaving. The keening stopped, and Irene pulled them toward the stairs. This was a time for brute force, and by the time they reached the stop, both were panting, and the body, slight as it was, rested solely on her, shaking as a sore pressed too firmly against bone. "Just a bit further," said almost more for her own benefit than that of her companion.
After an interminable ten feet, the journey was complete. Three brisk raps against aged oak and there was a shuffling sound within. The floor creaked and then so did the door was it swung open. "Pete, I told you —" Dull green eyes opened wide and a jaw rather inelegantly dropped. "Mrs. Frederick, what — How?" Myka's eyes fastened onto the bundle in her arms, her nose twisting up at the smell of rot and filth before realizing just what she was looking at. The book in her hand dropped to the floor, landing on her toe without any notice and the door swung wide. "My God! Helena." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, disbelief and tears making it thick.
The head hanging downward, thin stringy hair limp and plastered to cheeks, tilted up slightly at the voice, mouth moving without sound as black, frantic eyes fixed on Myka. Nostrils flared and Helena simply tipped forward. There was no reaching, no recognition beyond instinct of how to move or why, only that she had to. She had to be over there. She landed in Myka's outstretched arms, face buried in curls and sweet skin, crying out in pain, fear, and sheer desperation, unable to actually comprehend just how her situation had changed. The force of the impact dragged them both down, Myka trying to cradle the woman as gently as possible while still clasping her securely. She could feel every bone, every sinew. There were no tears, just a never-ending shudder from them both.
Myka looked up from the floor, taking in the stain along the full side on Mrs. Fredrick's clothes, black, sticky, a band wrapping around her chest to her jacket's lapels, a hand shaped imprint. She had never seen the woman look so human. There was a glimmer of sorrow, empathy, turning the rims of her eyes pink behind the no nonsense frames. "What happened?!" Myka's voice was more frantic than she intended, and louder. Much louder.
The body in her arms flinched, burrowing further into her and Myka softened, rocking back off her heels, bringing the body with her into her lap. Helena settled against her, and it was as if she wasn't there at all, her body frighteningly light and cold. The shaking was the only true sign of her existence, and Myka was desperate enough to be glad for it.
"Ms. Wells has been released from Regent custody. It was decided she would be brought here and will remain under your care until such time that she is reinstated to full-time agent status. You will be responsible for her." Irene paused, looking at the tears slip past Myka's nose, dripping onto the tipped head below her, a hand gently carding through what remained of raven locks. "I thought you would both prefer it."
Myka nodded, chin bumping against Helena gently. But when she looked up, there was no softness. Irene stared into the abyss and barely restrained a shiver. God help them, indeed. "Now isn't the time, Agent Bering. I will return in a few days, and we can talk more then. Right now, she needs you. The Regents —have agreed to keep their distance until such time that Ms. Wells agrees to see them. I will have Agent Nielson keep you from the field until you say otherwise. Consider yourself on indefinite paid leave. You will not be bothered here—either of you. I promise you that."
"You cannot really expect me to just—"
"I expect you to care for her. Now is not the time for anger or revenge Agent Bering." Irene cut her off, too tired to argue, voice sharp as a whip. "There will be ample time for recrimination later. She needs you at the moment, not your vengeance. You."
Irene looked down at the shivering mess curled around Myka, knees tucked along her ribs, fingers wrapped tight in her shirt, knuckles white. The trip had opened one or two wounds along her flank and a fresh streak of blood was making its way down what used to be a white shirt. It turned into something wholly different ages ago. They'd wasted enough time. Helena had taken up her muttering again. "My-ka." She nuzzled her warm cocoon, mouth hanging open and breathing in Myka's smell.
"You need to get her into the bath. It has been quite some time, as I am sure you can tell. Be careful, though. She's developed a bit of hydrophobia. She's too weak to pose any real threat, but I am sure you'd like to prevent any aggravation to her injuries. Try to prepare yourself, Agent Bering. There are several of them, and you'll need to take care in bandaging them. I will call for Dr. Calder when I leave, but she is currently in Nepal, so it may be a day or two before she arrives. She will need to start with broth; I will have Leena put some on the stove to warm."
Myka nodded absently, already making lists and plans. Helena would stay in her room, warm and safe under her watch. She had almost given up hope, and she was slightly manic for the rush of it returning. "Why did you—" But when she looked up, they were alone, the bedroom door closed and latched from the inside. "Bring her here?" She finished to the empty air. It didn't much matter. She knew. They all knew.
The room was quiet but for her name, disjointed and quiet, slipping from between Helena's cracked lips. Myka had to swallow back a sob and took a shuddering breath, cuddling Helena closer.
"Helena." The muttering stopped. After Mrs. Frederick's warning, Myka was apprehensive, but it had to be done, so they'd start with reason.
"I need you to listen to me, okay? We need to take care of you now. We need to get you cleaned up, so you and I are going to get you into a bath."
At the word bath, Helena came alive, trying to push away, eyes frantic, wild. Her mouth moved, no sound came out, and she almost fell off Myka's lap in the struggle. She was so weak, however, that Myka easily brought her back, held her fast, tucking the flailing arms into her chest. She began to rock them both, arms wrapped firmly around her frighteningly small shoulders, tucking Helena's face into her shoulder like a child. "Shhhhh, it's all right. It's going to be all right. I won't hurt you. We'll get you nice and clean and into bed. It's all right. You're safe. You'll always be safe with me." She murmured nonsense words of comfort, rocking them the whole time. Helena's shaking subsided, but she kept shaking her head. Myka wasn't at all convinced Helena was anywhere near lucid, but she couldn't just manhandle her into the tub and there seemed to be some spark of recognition. She felt the way Helena's fingers stroked at the skin of her throat, peaking through the collar of her shirt. She had an idea; now she just had to hope it would work.
"Would you like me to take the bath with you? We can sit just like this." Myka waited. There was no new struggle at the word bath, but the fingers at her throat stopped moving. She felt Helena inhale deeply and was slightly concerned at the creak her heard. "My-ka." And the fingers started moving again.
That seemed as close to an agreement as she was going to get. "That's right, Helena. It's Myka. I'm here. I have you." She reached out and tucked a string of hair behind her ear before starting to shift Helena off her lap so she could stand.
Helena made a whining noise in the back of her throat, fingers curling tighter around the cloth of her collar. "It's okay, Helena. Here, just hold onto me." With that, Myka stopped moving, and, uncurling the fingers from her shirt, wrapped the arms around her neck instead.
"You just hold on, Helena. I'm not going anywhere." She managed to get Helena off her lap, and, with arms still firmly around her neck, grasping onto the edge of her trousers, pulled Helena up with her gently. It took a moment to settle, Helena swaying before settling all her weight on Myka, but they we standing up. First step complete. Step two, moving.
Myka took a step, tugging Helena by the belt loops toward the bathroom and step-by-step they made it the dozen steps to her en suite, bumping into every piece of furniture along the way. They stumbled into the bathroom, Myka flicking on the light before settling Helena on the toilet seat gently. They were still connected by Helena's firm grip around her neck. This meant they ended up eye-to-eye, foreheads resting together when Helena finally settled.
Myka stopped breathing all together. There was almost nothing of the woman she knew in those eyes. Almost. She couldn't look away as they stared back, black and pained. Her breath was rancid, but Myka couldn't care less as she leaned in gently, bracing herself on the wall. The kiss was soft, simple, chaste, but oh so wonderful. It was over almost as soon as it began, but it was enough and the arms fell from around her neck and Helena practically flopped back against the tank. "Love."
"So much, Helena. Love you so much." With one hand grasping Helena's tightly, Myka reached into the tub with the other, setting the stopper. She turned on the water slowly, trying to find that balance between speed and noise, not wanting to frighten Helena anymore than necessary, but she could feel the nails dig into her hand. She fiddled with the knobs, trying to keep the water as tepid as possible. No need to aggravate her injuries further.
Myka turned back to the woman holding on to her for dear life. Picking up her other hand, Myka placed both on her shoulders, curling them in her shirt and smiling slightly. When the fingers took hold, Myka just took a moment to stroke the back of those hands, tracing the fine bones, rubbing gently. The touch was barely there but soothing for them both, a connection badly needed. She just felt so small, so delicate, Myka could feel the need, the overriding urge, to care for this woman well up inside her. With a final stroke, she trailed her hands up those arms, jumping to hips and down legs, starting with her shoes. The laces had been removed, so it was just a matter of puling them off and tossing them to the side. Socks followed, making a sticky sound when they hit the tile. The smell was bad, and getting worse, but Myka refused to let it show on her face. She just kept looking up from where she knelt in front of her woman and smiled a small smile. The water pounded as fingers undid the button and fly, pulling it down before moving onto the shirt. There were only three buttons left, one coming off completely in her hand. It stuck to parts of Helena's body as Myka pulled, and she had to move her fingers over those areas, pulling it free as gently as possible, but there were still moans and whimpers. Water puddled in Myka's eyes, but she refused to let it fall. She could cry later.
The shirt gave way and Helena was bare from the waist up. Her skin was a grey color, patched with black, blue, and blood. Myka swallowed back the bile and looked up and smiled softly, touching the spot over Helena's heart gently. Helena seemed to curl in around that hand, the fingers at Myka's shoulders kneading the muscle underneath.
She reached over and shut off the water, testing it once more for the temperature. She left a few drops on her fingers, and, holding her gaze, brought them to Helena, painting the back of her hand, marking a trail through the grime. "Okay?" She got no response, but there was no attempt to escape either.
Myka pulled the hands from her shoulders, resting them just under the hem of her t-shirt, still cold, and she could feel goose bumps race up her spine. Of course, it could just be from Helena. She always had that effect on the other woman. The t-shirt came off, curls bouncing everywhere as the material cleared her ears and next went her bra and the button to her trousers. They slid off easily enough as she got them both upright, pulling Helena into her own body for support as she pushed the jeans she wore down and got the woman out of them.
Helena was a walking skeleton. Myka counted the ribs, could see the contours of her pelvis. It was amazing she could stand at all. She maneuvered herself into the water first, never taking her eyes from Helena's and tugged slightly. Helena resisted for a moment, but her need to wrap around Myka seemed to win out over the fear and Myka quickly found herself with an armful of shaking woman.
"Let's sit down, honey. Let's get you clean and you can curl up in my lap all you like." She kept her voice soothing, letting her lips feather across Helena's scalp as she spoke, fingers ghosting over her spine. When she began to lower herself down, Helena followed and bundled herself against Myka, her ear planted firmly above her heart.
The water was already grey, bordering on black after just a few strokes with the washcloth, but Myka kept going. She let the water rain down Helena's back, uncovering mark after mark, red and angry, and a far too prominent spine. Three rounds of water later and a tear filled hair washing that left nail marks on Myka's wrists, Helena's skin was pink and smelled of lavender. Myka just snuggled her close and leaned back against the edge, taking a moment before getting them up to begin cleaning out the various cuts and scrapes. As bad as it was, it could have been so much worse. They were mostly marks of neglect, but every bruise, every cut tore at her. Helena would heal, at least physically, and that was somewhere to start. Helena was strong. "Love you, Helena."
Helena just tucked her head more securely against her chest, a finger tapping out Myka's heartbeat, her lips brushing the skin there.
It was two hours later. Helena was dry, bandaged, dressed and fed, soup waiting outside her door when they were ready. The moment Myka put Helena in her bed, Helena's face squished in her pillow as she lay on her stomach since her back was worst off, Myka felt the exhaustion settle over her. All those months of not knowing, wondering, no longer being able to be angry and just missing Helena more than a heart should bear, she was tired. Myka threw an old t-shirt on, crawled in beside Helena and just watched her. A single eye opened on the other pillow, staring back over the folds, hair everywhere, soft and sweet smelling. "Myka."
The eye closed and her body seemed to collapse into the sheets, heavy. Only then did Myka scoot closer, resting her forehead against Helena's shoulder, feet tangled together. "Helena."