It is the little things at first.
It is walking into a coffee shop and ordering a grande caffee mocha, no sugar, no whipped cream, extra dry, with half skim, half full milk-not knowing what it means but sighing contentedly at the first sip.
It is reading a book, picking apart sentences and asking questions she leaves unanswered so she could discuss them with students she no longer has.
It is changing channels all too quickly when news of an accident comes on because she cannot stomach the possibility of it not being an accident after all.
Little things that turn into barely noticeable moments when she forgets that she is not Emily Lake, with no papers to grade and lessons to plan.
When she finally notices it, she is in a classroom, learning how to make a thirty minute meal for five, next to the most uninteresting man in the world.
He has a warm smile and his invitation to put the lesson into practice in his home makes her blush, and somehow that is enough to make her want to spend the rest of her life with him.
It is easy.
This man has built a sturdy life for himself, unlike her who is still scrambling to find a place in this strange new world.
As they laugh at their burnt chicken, she decides that place could very well be by his side. No more looking.
No more waiting.
...
The first time she meets Adelaide, her heart nearly drops. She wanted a ready made life and she even prepared herself for the daughter it included but she should have known that nothing could prepare her for the memory of Christina. It always comes in a violent strike that leaves her knees weak.
She turns her heels, ready to run before she loses her strength altogether, but then Adelaide welcomes her like an old friend.
The crushing weight on her chest disappears and she can finally breathe.
Adelaide is not Christina.
Christina would have hid behind Charles, always greeting her with silence.
But Adelaide greets her with chatter.
"Dad told me you were pretty."
"And?"
"Pretty is a word boys use for girls like me. For a grownup like you, dad should have used beautiful."
Nate shrugs behind Adelaide, lips curling into that warm smile she adores.
"And your dad said you were smart."
"And?"
"He should have said the smartest girl in the world."
"Alright, now," Nate says, his tone gentle and lacking the bitterness Charles had whenever she was away for too long.
.
"I love Christina but I am not her father."
"I understand."
"Do you? Do you understand it when you are out there having your exotic adventures?"
"You forget that they are not just stories in your books. I am saving lives."
"Of course, no one is nobler than you."
.
Helena takes in the sight before her.
She has a photograph of it somewhere in the Warehouse.
Except,
there are no solemn looks. No guilt tying knots in her stomach.
No silence she has to persistently fill until she is replied by a doll.
Only two people who are very happy to see her.
...
When Myka shows up at her doorstep, she has already settled into the life she wanted.
She has settled into it so comfortably that she only dreams of Christina once a week.
She has a photograph of this too, of Myka smiling brightly at her, forgotten in her still unpacked suitcase in the basement.
Nate comes out. Then Adelaide.
And Myka's smile turns into confusion.
Myka is not supposed to find out this way.
She is not supposed to find out at all.
...
"This is not you."
It is not an accusation. It sounds more like a plea.
Myka's hand is around her neck. It is not gripping yet.
"You stole her."
Myka presses slightly.
"Do you remember this?"
"Myka…"
"Tell me you remember this."
Her thumb brushes Myka's cheek lightly.
"I can't."
If she admits she remembers, it will be a lie.
Her memories are becoming more and more like stories written by a stranger.
Myka squeezes as if it could expel the answer she wants to hear.
Helena tries not think about how she can still breathe-how weak Myka's grip is.
"I'm sorry."
Myka always releases when Helena apologizes, then places soft kisses on the bruise she left on Helena's neck.
(The bruise is fading too like her.)
It has been thirty two days since Pachycrocuta Jawbone terrorized the life she stole from Emily Lake.
And five goodbyes between the two of them.
...
Nate lets her stay.
He says Adelaide cannot lose another mother.
She whispers to him every night when he pretends to sleep,
"Don't worry love. Emily will be here soon."
Everything he knows about her is Emily.
She has never visited her aunt in Connecticut every summer from ages ten to eighteen. She has never been on the back of a motorcycle (although she knows how to ride one from 1894). And she has never failed Geometry twice in high school (in fact, it is her favourite Maths subject).
Emily was the person Nate fell in love with.
And she can only hope that he will be able to fall in love with Emily again when she is gone.
(So then his warm smile could return.)
...
A phone call from Pete wakes her up.
He says a lot of other things but she only hears,
"Myka is dying."
She forgets to hang up in her rush to the airport and when she reaches the ticketing counter and asks for a ticket to South Dakota, she hears both Pete and Claudia yelling through her phone,
"No! We're not—we're in Colorado Springs!"
...
She is in the room where Myka grew up, surrounded by books Myka could not carry with her through adulthood.
Pete is sleeping on the floor by the right side of the bed while Claudia is curled up on the other side. Steve was the only one Mrs Bering managed to persuade to sleep on an actual bed in the guest room. Artie is here too, in the living room, watching white noise with Mr and Mrs Bering.
"How much of Helena is still left?" Myka murmurs.
"Tonight, all of it."
"I'm glad."
Helena never imagined her life would end on a bed.
"Are you ready?"
She kisses Myka's lips once more.
Then she looks into Myka's eyes. She no longer needs to avoid their green for the sky's blue.
This time, neither of them is being noble or brave for the other.
This time, they leave together.