Web yelled at me to write her fic, and this is what happened. Thanks to typey for the beta, and to web for telling me to post it.
Helena still felt like she was walking on eggshells.
As soon as Mrs. Frederic had called and explained the situation, she had come back to the Warehouse. Things with Nate had been ending anyway, and her team – Or rather, the team she couldn't help but feel as if she still orbited, even if in the furthest path possible – needed her. Though, maybe they just needed a warm body to fill the spidering cracks that were slowly failing outward.
It had been three months since she had packed that first suitcase, and she had been living out of it ever since. With Myka out of the rotation and Claudia needing to focus on her caretaker training, she and Steve had been taking the majority of the cases while Pete was left in charge of making sure that Myka actually took care of herself.
She still couldn't figure out if he was the best or worst of them suited to that job.
Yet Helena couldn't deny that Pete had been an unyielding rock of support for Myka. She could hear his voice now coming from her room, telling her about how he was going to fluff up her pillows and entertain her while she recovered, and then she even heard that low chuckle that she heard so seldom now.
Helena glared at the suitcase she was unpacking and then already reloading, simply dumping her dirty laundry from the last retrieval into the hamper before putting her second set of clothing back inside. The second set had been bought out of necessity, almost near duplicates of the meagre items she had salvaged from Emily Lake's wardrobe, the pieces weren't garish or steampunk or with any notable features about them. She loathed the bright colours from Wyoming and wasn't yet feeling like she deserved the soft blues or structured waistcoats from... well, from before.
And so she had her two sets of clothes, a suitcase, and an endless number of missions to go on. Missions that allowed the rest of them to train, or recover, or nurse. Missions that gave her a purpose, albeit one that only existed so that the rest of them could fulfill theirs. Missions that kept her busy and away. Transient. Nomadic. Unable to put down roots.
Temporary.
She heard Myka's low chuckle again as Pete was mumbling something unintelligible and it caused Helena to glare at her suitcase once more. She thought she might have a little time to stay, this rotation. If only for a night, to maybe take on one of the other roles for an evening: helper, innkeeper, comedian – maybe even be able to produce that laugh from something that she said instead of from Pete's childish games.
But instead, she accepted the role that she was cast, because she was a good Warehouse agent, but she certainly wasn't suited for psychology or housekeeping. She wasn't the person someone came to for comfort.
No, where she could provide the most comfort was in making sure that everyone else could be where they were needed. She and Steve made a good team, even, and right now she knew that Steve was already waiting for her downstairs as she dallied, packing slowly so that she could hear Myka's voice just one more time before she left. (Was it leaving if she was vacating a place she didn't feel as if she resided in? Was she instead returning, and were the moments she spent here just an interlude from her real home, one of hotels and red eye flights?)
She zipped the suitcase shut and left her door open behind her, hoping that someone would gather her clothing again to be washed for the next instant turn-around. In the hallway, she could hear Pete's voice more clearly, and though she knew she was running late, she paused for the response.
"Peeeeeeete," Myka was whining, and she must be feeling better than she had been if she was able to sustain this level of effort with him for such a long time, and Helena allowed herself a moment to smile at the playful tone. "I can get up and do it myself!"
"I know you can Myka," Pete responded, and even though Helena had heard a version of this conversation during each of her recesses spent unpacking and repacking, this one held an air of lightness. "But this is the one time in your life that you have the ultimate excuse! You have cancer, Myka, milk it!"
Helena had gasped sharply at the word – the one that she never allowed herself to say, barely even think, but Myka and Pete were throwing it around carelessly as if it wasn't the thing that had permeated every atom of the B&B and all of their lives.
"Milk what? I don't even have to ask you for anything and you're already doing it."
"Except read to you; you know big words make me sleepy. But you probably could get me to do it if you did what I taught you – c'mon, just one time."
"I'm not going to say it, Pete," she heard Myka say defiantly.
"Just like I taught you! You really have to put the moan in, though." It sounded like he was taking a deep breath for whatever he was about to say, and then with the most overdone, pitiful, childlike sound Helena had ever heard, he whined, "But I have caaaaaaaaan-cerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
"Even if I were to ever say it, it would never be like that."
"But no one would ever be able to say no to you! You want to eat all of Artie's cookies and not let me have any of them? You say it like that and it's totally fine. It's the rules."
"You made these rules up."
"Hey, they're good rules!"
Helena could hear them continue to banter and she could hear her heart swell at the lightness in Myka's voice. A voice she heard at all so rarely lately – her short sojourns at the B&B were usually spent giving Myka a wide berth anyway. They had so much to talk about still, and it would take up far more energy than she would allow herself to ask of Myka to expend. And so, she turned away from the voices, and started towards the stairs.
"Hey, HG, I didn't know you were back."
Helena grimaced at Pete's voice and turned back towards him, seeing him leaning casually now against Myka's doorframe.
"Not for long, I'm afraid," she answered. "We practically had to drive past the B&B on the way to our next retrieval, so we opted to stop for the length of time it took to acquire some clean clothing."
Pete nodded absently and she had begun to walk away again when she heard Myka croak, "Helena?"
She stopped at the edge of the stairs, and winced at the change of tone in Myka's voice. Only a minute ago Myka had sounded happy, and her mere presence had ripped that contentment away. "Yes, darling?" she called out, almost tripping on the endearment.
She had stayed frozen in her spot, but then Pete straightened and glared at her, gesturing for her to take his place. She ground her teeth and returned his look, but her feet had already obeyed and she had replaced her pained grimace with a neutral look by the time she reached the doorway.
Myka was propped up in her bed, half a dozen pillows behind and around her, and a large hardcover book lying beside her. She looked better than the last time Helena had seen her, but the view was still startling. Her thin hands curled in on each other and picked at the dry skin, and then one of her hands cautiously reached up to adjust the fleece cap that adorned her head. But even with the loss of hair, rounded face from the drugs, and upsettingly pronounced collarbones, the hesitant smile she wore was the most beautiful Helena had ever seen.
"Hi," Myka breathed, and Helena almost believed that she had added to Myka's good mood instead of destroying it, but then Myka looked away.
Her hands curled into the blanket and tried to pull it up, but even that small motion looked like it was taking too much effort. Helena crossed the room without even thinking, and pulled the blanket close around her, suddenly aware of how near she was to the woman she had barely seen since she started working for the Warehouse again.
"There," Helena murmured, simply so that she would say something. "All better. Now, poor Steve is waiting for me –"
"Were you really going to leave again without even saying hello?"
Helena thought she didn't know how to answer, but the words came out unbidden. "If I don't say hello, I won't have to say goodbye."
Helena looked everywhere in the room except at Myka, and the silence went on too long. She used to be good at silences, but now she wanted to fill up all the empty space. "Perhaps one day I'll be able to stay home longer between missions and we can share some tea. But until then..."
"Maybe Pete could take this one?"
Helena's head whipped back to Myka. Didn't she understand what Pete's role was? What her role was? She was only there so that the others could do what they were better at, so that they could help, and nurture, and heal. She had no place in the healing business.
But Myka's voice kept coming, the words rushing out in uneven patterns, as if each piece had to all come out together or they wouldn't come out at all. "I just miss you. And Pete really needs a break, and a mission with Steve would be good for him. He's not any good at reading out loud either, and the book is sometimes too heavy and makes me tired and that's something that you're good at. And I miss your voice. Because I miss you."
Helena stood still in the wake of Myka's words. They gave her hope, and yet, didn't she see? "But that's not what I'm supposed to do; I'm supposed to work so it's easier for you to get better. I understand what I need to do — I, I can't possibly do what you ask."
Now, it was Myka's turn to look everywhere else in the room but at Helena, and if Helena had been looking anywhere but at Myka she may have missed the tiny, quiet, and insecure little voice murmur just above total silence, "but I have cancer."
Helena's breath caught in her throat; replaying in her head the words that Myka had only moments before vowed to never say. "Righty-ho, then," she answered a long pause, before leaving the room and finding Pete eavesdropping just beyond sight from Myka's room.
"Do I get to go pack?" he whispered, though she was certain his version of a whisper carried to Myka's ears. She pressed her lips together and gave him a curt nod, and he ran back into Myka's room to say his goodbyes. She quickly ran downstairs to explain the situation to Steve, and by the time she had returned upstairs, Pete was already bounding towards her with a duffle over his shoulder. "Keep me updated, okay?" he asked, stopping suddenly before her. "She's strong, but I worry, and I think the change of scenery will be good, but don't hesitate to call me back, okay?"
Helena nodded. "Thank you, Pete."
He just gave her a tight smile before continuing down the stairs and immediately starting to suggest restaurants to Steve for the road trip.
Helena shook her head and turned back to Myka's room, now seeing an empty spot where the book had previously lain. "I thought maybe, you could start with reading to me?" Myka said, yet still small voiced and hesitant.
"Of course," she answered with false confidence, and then sitting on the bed next to Myka. "From the beginning?"
She nodded, and when Helena opened the book she heard Myka say, "Thank you for staying." Her voice didn't hold the same easy tone as it did with Pete minutes before, but Helena would swear forever that this was better.
"There's nowhere I'd rather be." She cleared her throat heavily — it still wasn't the time for the deeper conversation that they needed to have, but perhaps they were getting a little closer to it. "Now, let's begin."
And as she read, Myka slowly moved closer to her on the mountain of pillows, until Helena herself was the only pillow that Myka was using as her eyes fluttered closed and she drifted to sleep.
No, Helena thought, as she pulled the blanket up again. There's nowhere that I'd rather be.