What if HG left and didn't come back because of something Myka did? What if Myka's upbringing was (like a lot of people's) steeped in homophobia? What if Myka couldn't accept that she'd fallen in love with Helena?
This work is a gift for Beatricethecat over on AO3, since she gave me the idea.
"Hey, Dad," Myka said quietly, her browfurrowing as she picked up the call. Her Dad never called. It was always her mom, and always on Sundays. What could he be calling for?
"Nothing special, Myka. Just got some news that I thought you might want to hear."
Myka braced herself. This couldn't be good; with her Dad, it never was.
"Kurt Smoller is gay, now. He has a boyfriend and he's flaunting it about. Tried to come into the store. I told him we don't hold with that kind of thing here. I thought you might want to know that it wasn't your fault he didn't like you back. He's just one of those sickos," her Dad said, his distaste clear in his voice.
"Uh, wow. Thanks, Dad. That's really thoughtful of you, to tell me that," she said, chewing on a fingernail, her jaw tight.
"I knew you had your heart set on him, and I thought it might make you feel better to know that something was wrong with him, not you," her father continued, chuckling.
"That's great, Dad. You're sweet to think of me," Myka said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.
"No problem, honey," he said, sounding distracted suddenly. "I have to go, Myka. A customer just came in. Your mom will call you Sunday, okay?"
"Sure, Dad," Myka said, "you take care."
"Bye, Ophelia," he said, hanging up. Myka stared at the phone for a moment, then grabbed her clothes, dressing quickly. Helena was out cold, her face peaceful in sleep. Myka had never seen her look that free, unfettered, before. Myka stared at her for a long time, taking in every detail, every freckle. What they'd done last night… it was a mistake. Myka loved Helena, of course she did. But it was friendship, not… not whatever that had been, last night. It was a mistake. She wasn't gay, or bisexual, or whatever. She wasn't like Kurt, or that kid at her high school who'd hung himself after (ironically and unfortunately) being bullied by Kurt and the rest of the football team at school. She had been curious about Helena, after the "many of my lovers were men," business, and she'd talked to her about it a few times after a couple of scotches. There was that time when Helena had accidentally touched the back of her neck and Myka's breath had caught in her throat, an almost-gasp, and Helena had heard. She'd looked at Myka for a long moment, her eyes crinkled at the edge in amusement, but she said nothing. Myka had felt her dark gaze follow her that whole day. There was even a kiss, one night, in a club. They were drunk, it was a gay bar – they were searching for an artefact in a town and it was the only club open that late for a drink – and one of the dudes in the bar had dared them. That kiss – it was… mind-blowing. Myka felt, afterwards, like she'd been given a glimpse, a brief look, at how beautiful her future could be. But she'd put it to one side almost immediately, drawing away from Helena and plastering a drunk smile onto her face. Helena had looked at her closely for a moment, with the hint of a smile on her face, before murmuring something about, "When you're ready, Agent Bering." Myka had tried to put it out of her mind - it was just a kiss. (She definitely hadn't thought about it every night since. It was just a kiss. Just messing around. Helena's tongue had tasted of slightly sour gin and crisp tonic, and Myka hadn't been able to drink either since without thinking about that kiss, with longing and regret.) But what they'd done together last night – that wasn't okay. Yeah, Helena clearly knew what she was doing; Myka couldn't deny that. It had been a hell of an experience. But it was just a response to physical stimuli, right? It didn't mean anything. She couldn't go home at Thanksgiving and tell her Dad that she was seeing a woman. She just couldn't. She couldn't stand to see that look on his face, and she also had no desire to be slapped in the face again, like he'd done when she told him she was joining the Secret Service. He'd wanted her to take over the store, or failing that, become a lawyer or a doctor. She'd already disappointed him so many times; she couldn't do it again.
She weighed up her options. This was Helena's room. She could leave Helena a note; head back to Colorado for a few weeks. Or forever. Forever was looking pretty good, right now.
Or she could do the decent thing and apologise for her mistake. Helena had said, last night, that she was in love with Myka. Myka knew that she should apologise for sleeping with Helena and just tell her that it was a mistake. That would be the decent thing, right?
But if she did that, there was no chance, was there? No chance of them staying friends. She'd probably never see Helena again. And that felt unacceptable. Because she loved Helena. As a friend.
Or she could just go along with it, for a bit. Pretend to let it fizzle out, that she wanted to stay friends instead. That felt like a nicer way to do it. Maybe she'd have to sleep with Helena again, but she could do that, couldn't she? She could handle it; it was just a physical thing. It didn't make her gay. She ignored the way her skin tingled as she remembered Helena's touch, Helena's kisses. The way she sounded when she…
Myka headed that train of thought off quickly, taking a deep breath. She went downstairs, leaving Helena asleep, practically walking straight into the door in her haste to leave the room and to resist going back to that bed. She thought she might be able to think more clearly if she had coffee, and if Helena wasn't right there. She went downstairs, she saw Leena, who frowned in puzzlement at whatever she was seeing in Myka's aura. Leena handed over a cup of coffee without saying anything, and Myka picked up a croissant without noticing that it was full of chocolate and went to sit on the porch to think. About twenty minutes later, she was still thinking and trying to make sense of everything, trying to decide on a way forward, when she heard Claudia shouting.
"Can you believe they did that? Who the hell do they think they are?" Claudia's voice was loud and upset. Myka turned to see what was happening. Claudia was shouting in the direction of the doorway and Pete was comforting her.
"No, I can't believe it," he said, shaking his head. His expression was dark.
"What's going on, guys?" Myka asked, puzzled.
"They took HG," Claudia sputtered. "They took her and they didn't even let her say goodbye. It was that asshole Kosan again. Artie told them to trust him, that HG was trustworthy. Why couldn't they just let her stay here, with her family?"
She began to cry, and Pete patted her on the back helplessly. Myka's stomach was twisting. She was… she didn't know what she was. Equal parts angry and relieved. Relieved that she wasn't going to have to have a conversation with Helena about last night, but furious, too. Helena had proven herself. She was ready to die, she told Pete to destroy the Janus coin. And if Marcus and Steve hadn't found them, that's exactly what would have happened. Helena would have died for the good of the Warehouse, and that was a hell of a turnaround from wanting to destroy the whole world. She had earned her freedom. She had redeemed herself.
Myka sat down at the table, feeling suddenly lost and empty. She had missed Helena so much, this last year. Even after she'd betrayed them, even after Yellowstone, Myka had still missed her. But she couldn't be with a woman. Her family would never accept it, and she had no idea whether her family here at the Warehouse would accept it. She couldn't do it - no matter how good things had felt between them. No matter how much she loved Helena. As a friend.
She took a deep breath, and suddenly Leena was sitting next to her.
"Are you okay, Myka?" she asked, looking into Myka's eyes intently.
"Yeah," Myka said, wearily. "I just don't think I was expecting them to take her away again," she said, putting her head in her hands.
"I know," Leena said. "It's not okay. I'll speak to Mrs Frederic and see what can be done. I know Mr Kosan is the Head of the Regents, but he can't do this. Helena has proven she can be trusted."
Leena wandered off after squeezing Myka's shoulder reassuringly. Claudia's sobs had quieted and Pete had guided her to a chair, holding her to his chest and talking to her in a reassuring murmur.
Myka went back to her room after a while, taking a shower and lying on her bed, glad that it didn't smell like Helena. She didn't know if she could have coped with that, right then. She didn't know what she was going to do about all of this. She knew what needed to be done, she just didn't want to do it. And she didn't know how she was going to get a message to Helena in the first place.
"Agent Bering," Mrs Frederic intoned. She was inside the room and the door was closed. Myka wondered idly, once her heart had slowed down, if the woman was some sort of ninja or if she was actually teleporting somehow.
"Mrs Frederic," Myka acknowledged, nodding her head.
"I have spoken to the Regents concerning Agent Wells. With my support and Artie's it is likely that she will be reinstated soon. In the meantime, would you like me to give her a message?"
Myka stared at her mutely, before nodding her head.
"Could you… could I have a minute, Mrs Frederic, to write a note?" she asked hesitantly.
"Of course. I will be downstairs with Leena when you're ready," Mrs Frederic said, unperturbed as ever. Myka looked away for a moment, and when she looked back, Mrs F was gone.
The note took an age. She started it with "I'm sorry," she even wrote "It's not you, it's me." She tore both attempts to pieces before deciding to go with the simplest explanation.
Helena
I'm writing this wondering where you are, again. The Regents took you away when I was having breakfast and they didn't give me a chance to see you. I would have told you this face to face if I could. I'm sorry.
What happened between us was a mistake. I think I mistook my love for you, my friend, as something else. With everything that happened, losing Steve, almost losing the Warehouse, I was confused. I'm not gay, Helena. I'm not even bisexual. I am sorry I let those things happen between us. I want us to be friends – I don't want to lose you. But that can never happen again. I am sorry to say something that I know will hurt you. When you're ready to talk, I'm here.
You will never lose this friend.
Myka
She sealed it up and went downstairs, finding Mrs Frederic and Leena in deep conversation. She apologised for interrupting and handed the letter to Mrs F, who peered at her through those cats-eye glasses for a long moment.
"Are you sure about this, Agent Bering?" she asked, finally.
"What do you mean, ma'am?" Myka asked uncertainly.
"I believe that Agent Wells' earlier words to you are pertinent here, Agent Bering. Don't walk away from your truth. That is what I mean," she said, her eyes on Myka's.
"I'm sure," Myka said, a lump rising in her throat. She was doing the right thing. She didn't want to lead Helena on any more.
"Very well," Mrs Frederic said, tucking the letter into her jacket before turning her back on Myka in a dismissive gesture. Myka stood there uncertainly for a long moment before turning and slinking back to her room. She was doing the right thing. Helena was not for her, and she was not for Helena. They would both meet the right person down the line, and they would be friends again.
Helena never came back. Myka didn't ask why, and she could tell from Claudia's and Pete's puzzled gazes whenever the subject came up that they didn't understand why. She mentioned HG once to Steve, (who had been brought back from the dead by an artefact) but talking to him about it was involuntary. She didn't know if it was because he was gay that the words popped out, but in any case, she talked to him. She said she missed Helena, and she didn't know where she was. He just looked at her, taking a swallow of his beer before speaking carefully.
"She seems nice. Helena, I mean. I didn't get to see her, much, what with dying and all, but everything I hear about her – she seems like a really good person, since she's reformed. She cares a lot, about you."
"Yeah, we're good friends," Myka said, taking a sip of her beer. Steve choked on his, and coughed for a moment.
"Yeah. Friends," he said, and Myka coloured at the slight hint of mockery in his voice. They didn't speak any more that night.
When Helena called, Myka wasn't ready to hear her voice. The way her mouth formed words, made them beautiful. The way she said Myka's name. It was… Myka had missed her friend. That was all.
When they arrived in Wisconsin Pete kept giving Myka sidelong looks as they drove along in the huge SUV that he'd insisted on renting. She eventually got sick of it and snapped at him. He looked hurt, and stopped doing it, but she could still feel the tension as he held back whatever he wanted to say, so she told him to spit it out.
"Spit what out?" he asked, clearly protesting his innocence.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she asked, as she checked the road signs carefully to make sure they were on the right road for the police station.
"I just… we've been wondering, what happened with you and HG, when she came back that one night."
"Who is we?" she asked quietly.
"Claudia, me, and Steve. Even Artie asked me about it, one time."
"What do you think happened?" she asked, her heart sinking into her stomach.
"Come on, Myka. The walls are thin. We know that you… we know what happened. I'm not trying to embarrass you, partner. I just… you haven't seemed yourself, since, and we all thought Helena was coming back and I think we assumed you guys would be, you know, a "thing"." He did the quotation marks with his fingers and nearly ran them off the road because he let go of the steering wheel. She shouted at him and thumped him on the arm. After rubbing his arm and giving her a reproachful look, he continued.
"Anyway, then she didn't come back. And you've been… well, you really haven't been yourself since, Mykes. So what's the deal?"
She shrugged uncomfortably, her cheeks burning.
"It was a mistake, Pete. I told her that – I had to send a letter, because the Regents took her before we could talk. And that's all. I haven't heard from her since."
He looked at her in confusion for a long moment.
"Look, I don't mean to butt in, or anything. It's your life and all. But it didn't seem like a mistake, Myka. I've never seen you look at anyone that way. And the way she looked at you – it was love, Myka. And I saw what happened in the other timeline. She died for you. Not for the Warehouse – for you. Why wouldn't you want that?"
"It's not that, Pete. I want – I love her, as a friend. But what happened that night – it was two friends making a mistake. I'm not gay, and I… I hurt her, I know. She told me she loved me, that night. But I can't love her, Pete. Not like that."
"Can't love her?" he repeated, his eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement.
"Don't love her," she amended, but even to her, it sounded weak. She swore under her breath as she saw the turn for the sheriff's office coming up, and she pointed it out at the last second, Pete just making the turn with the cars behind honking their horns angrily at them.
"Ophelia," her Dad said, smiling at her. It looked… wrong, on his face. She accepted a hug and smiled at him uncertainly.
"Come in, have something to eat," he said, and she did, feeling like the odd one out as usual in her home. Tracy was still quiet after the whole incident with the artefact and trying to kill Myka. She hadn't quite bought Myka's explanation, but she came along to the bookstore anyway. Jean was fussing over her, and Myka's father was reading the newspaper.
Three separate times he brought up Kurt Smoller, laughing about Myka's crush on him, and saying she must feel good that it was the Smoller boy who was sick, that there was nothing wrong with her. If he'd been normal, a real man, he would have liked her too. There was a report in the paper of a country singer who'd come out recently, and he commented on that, too. "Poor woman needs to meet a real man," he said dismissively. "That'll cure her."
It was like the gods were telling her over and over again what to expect if she stepped out of line, if she let herself feel anything for Helena again. So she steeled herself, she switched it off, she trained her mind. Mind over matter. She wasn't gay; she wouldn't be. She wasn't bisexual, or pansexual, or whatever the fashion was now. She was straight, and she would marry a guy, and be pregnant like she was that one time with Pete's imaginary baby. She would have kids like Tracy and she would settle down and be normal, and she'd fit in here finally. Her Dad would keep smiling at her that way and she wouldn't feel like the odd one out anymore.
The first sight of Helena was like… like when the sky clears after a thunderstorm. She looked at Myka, and the hurt was clear in those eyes, the closed off expression, the way she spoke. She didn't want anything to do with retrieving this artefact, or with Myka, clearly. Myka accepted it all. After all, this was what she had wanted. Just to be friends.
Myka's bright idea to look up Helena's home address didn't look so bright when the kid came to the door behind Helena, and then the boyfriend, too. Nate. He seemed nice, in an ordinary sort of way. Myka tried to accept it the way she'd accepted Helena's lack of interest in the artefact, tried to take the blows as they came, because she deserved this. She was the one who had allowed herself to sleep with Helena. She was the one who had screwed up their friendship. Helena's words piled up, each one a blow. Nate was exceptional. (Yeah, right. Steve would have laughed out loud at that lie.) Helena belonged there, she and the Warehouse didn't mix. Lives were ruined. Myka couldn't disagree there. Helena coming to the Warehouse had ruined her, one way or another. She took a deep breath, and she tried not to say the things that were bubbling up, tried not to let jealousy gnaw at her ribs and claw its way into her stomach like a parasite, but she couldn't help it. She told Helena she was chasing Christina's ghost, that she wasn't herself. Helena glared at her, and Myka took a deep breath. Helena was right. This was what she wanted, right? She wanted to be friends. Jealousy had no place in a friendship, and Nate was a good man, just the kind of man to give Helena the kind of life she apparently wanted. Boring, safe. She took it all, she swallowed it up, let it drown her from the inside out. This was what she wanted, she reminded herself.
After all of the mayhem with the artefact, with the kid and the detective, they said goodbye, and while Myka knew it all looked pleasant enough from the outside, she saw the pain and a hint of malice in Helena's eyes when she said, "you will never lose this friend." It was what Myka had written at the bottom of her letter, the letter that had imploded them forever.
Walking away, getting in the car, waving goodbye – it was the hardest thing Myka had ever done. She missed Helena so badly, and she knew it was her fault. She knew that it was her who'd let everything change, and then let it blow up. One night of weakness, one night where she'd let herself lose control. And now she'd ruined everything between them. They might never be friends again. And she needed Helena in her life; she wanted to see that smile, those eyes. Those lips. But she had to choose, and she couldn't be what Helena wanted her to be.