Myka wakes to complete silence, and stretches happily.
This is her favourite part of the day, the solitude and silence that comes at five thirty in the morning. No one is racing down the hallway trying to get to the bathroom, no one is thundering down the stairs for breakfast, no one is yelling about artifacts and impending doom. It's serene. It's tranquil. It is Myka's time to herself before another long day hunting down objects that can wipe out humanity as easily as she wipes away the various foods that make their way to an oblivious Pete's face throughout the course of a day.
Her good mood lasts until she's standing in front of her closet and completing her routine ferret-check.
(Pete has developed a fondness for curling up for a nap in the hoods of Myka's sweaters, and Myka stopped having a problem with it the second she realized he was toilet trained. Now she mostly snaps pictures, shamelessly using his cuteness to distract his human counterpart so that she can get the last croissant.)
Pete's not there.
It's unusual, but certainly not unheard of, for Pete to still be in his hammock-bed in the morning. She checks up on him, just in case, and finds him awake, breathing unevenly and eyes half-open.
Myka gasps, sharp and loud, but Pete barely twitches. She draws him gently out of his hammock-bed with shaking hands and wet eyes.
She cradles him in the crook of her arm and absolutely does not panic.
"I have the baby food," Claudia says, hovering worriedly in Myka's doorway. She's still in her pajamas – she'd woken when Myka had nearly knocked down a shelf trying to get at A Practical Guide to Ferret Care. "I warmed it up, just like you said."
"And I'll cover your inventory for Artie," Pete (the human) says, yawning beside her. Myka aims a quick, worried smile at them both.
"Thanks," she replies quietly. In her arms, Pete (the ferret) whimpers, and Myka finds herself crooning, rocking him gently.
"Got your back, partner." Myka doesn't see Pete tipping the brim of an imaginary cowboy hat at her, but smiles all the same.
"Yeah, you take care of your overgrown rat. Leave the rest to us." Claudia places the baby food on Myka's beside table. Myka hums a reply, watching worriedly as the ferret curls further into the warmth of her body.
"The vet'll be here very soon," Myka promises, as Pete and Claudia's footsteps wander down the hall. She struggles briefly with opening the bottle one-handed, then carefully dips her index finger inside. "She's driving in from Featherhead just for you. In the meantime, this book and a lot of different ferret websites said chicken baby food was the way to go, so that is what we are going to do."
She encourages Pete's mouth open like the book instructed her, checking and double checking with her laptop to make sure she's doing it right. The ferret makes no attempt to try and taste it, like the book warned, so she places the food on the roof of his mouth.
Pete spits it back out at her, and Myka groans.
Kelly sweeps into her room, the picture of efficiency and compassion, and Myka feels the vice around her heart loosen.
She coos appropriately over Pete (still nestled protectively in Myka's arms), her stethoscope in the palm of her hand, and checks Pete's cage before returning to them. Myka is reassured by the way his eyes open wider as Kelly comes closer, though he doesn't even try to bat at Kelly's hand.
He squeaks when her stethoscope makes contact with his stomach, and Myka pulls away.
Kelly arches an eyebrow at her, and Myka winces. "It – it's not cold, is it?"
"Myka, you saw me warm it up," Kelly chides, and Myka ducks her head, embarrassed. "He's just being a big baby," Kelly adds teasingly, stroking through Pete's fur.
"Just like his namesake. Pete," she explains.
Kelly laughs delightedly. "That's perfect!" Myka grins back and lets Kelly place the stethoscope delicately against Pete's chest.
The examination is surprisingly quick.
"Just be careful with his diet over the next two days – the chicken baby food is great – and his stomachache will ease up in no time."
Myka leaves Pete curled up against her favourite (and only, thank you very much) stuffed bear, and showers Kelly with thanks on their way down the stairs.
The arrival of H.G. screws everything up.
And not just in Myka's professional life – although there is that, too, with Artie's distrust of the new agent (and Myka, subsequently), but also in her personal – not that she has any thoughts about Helena – H.G. – in her personal life in any way, it's just –
Pete doesn't like her.
Not Pete the human, he's still dazed and vaguely lecherous from that time in London Myka doesn't like thinking about. But the ferret. Her ferret can't stand Helena.
Myka doesn't understand it. Helena comes into her room – well, she wouldn't say frequently, but frequently enough, being as Myka is the only agent in the house who isn't deeply suspicious of Helena (Artie), deeply intimidated by Helena (Claudia), or a mixture of both (Pete).
There hadn't been any issues the first night Helena had dropped by, sometime after ten, knocking softly and peeking in somewhat sheepishly, hoping she wasn't disturbing and if she wasn't, would Myka perhaps like to share a cup of tea with her?
Myka had accepted, of course, with minimum blushing and stuttering (she hopes).
Helena had taken what would become her usual seat in the armchair by the window – maybe that was it? The ferret dearly loves that armchair, he'll drag all manner of bells and mirror toys and ropes and and toy cars (it's possible Myka spoils him, just a little bit) up there, and plays happily for hours on end while Myka fills out paperwork at her desk.
No. Myka dismisses the thought quickly. Pete the human and Claudia often lounge around in that same armchair at all hours of day for one reason or another, and Pete the ferret cuddles right up to them for scratches and the rare raisin or two.
"Maybe he's jealous?" Myka muses, just as Helena pauses for breath during The Count of Monte Cristo.
"I beg your pardon?"
"My ferret."
Myka only realizes she's said it out loud when she hears a rather pointed silence.
"If I'm boring you –"
"No! No, not at all, absolutely not!"
Helena arches an eyebrow and Myka sags. "I'm sorry," she says. "It's just – look at him."
Helena looks. Across the room, Pete the ferret pounces on his favourite bell toy, chattering happily in the general direction of Mister Teddy, who both Myka and the ferret have a fondness for.
"Truly the most depressed rodent I've ever seen," Helena says dryly.
"Weasel."
"What?"
"Ferrets are actually part of the weasel family –" The eyebrow arches again. "Not that that's important," Myka finishes weakly. "He just – usually, he's over here with me, trying to ruin the hems of my jeans, or something."
"Perhaps he's simply being polite? After all, he must see that you have company." Helena's lips twist like she's humouring her, and though malice is lacking from the expression, Myka stiffens.
Helena catches it quickly, sweeps up from the armchair and sits next to Myka on the bed, leaning in with a smirk. "Don't be cross," she cajoles, grasping Myka's chin with a finger and thumb. "Come," she says, her shoulder brushing Myka's with every breath. "I believe it's your turn."
Myka accepts the book with a barely contained smile, and picks up where Helena left off.
"So I called Leena a while ago," Pete starts, jerking Myka out of the monotony of the stakeout. He never can keep his mouth shut, she thinks, more amused than irritated. "She's still stuck in traffic, can you believe that?"
"Wait." Claudia and Artie are still retrieving the first edition of Kafka's Amerika, so – "Oh, my God, is Helena alone with my ferret?"
It is well known among the occupants of Leena's bed and breakfast that Helena and the ferret hate each other, and have ever since Helena accidentally stepped on Pete's tail ("How did you even do that? Ferrets have such short tails!") and the ferret retaliated by peeing on Helena's favourite leather jacket ("You told me he was toilet-trained!").
"Oh, relax," Pete rolls his eyes. "H.G.'s a big girl, she can handle not murdering a rat for an hour or two."
"He's a weasel!"
It's a wonder they haven't actually fallen over from exhaustion.
Pete leans against her as they reach the top step of the stairs and Myka can't even summon the energy to shove him away, even halfheartedly.
"Later," he mumbles, shuffling off to his room.
"Kelly," she reminds him, and Pete grunts. He'll probably be asleep as soon as he's through the door. Maybe he'll jolt awake somewhere around dinner time, and text her then.
She fumbles with the doorknob to her room, thinking vaguely how unfair it is to be so tired in the middle of a perfect summer's day.
She gets as far as dropping her bag by the door before she stops dead.
Lying in the middle of the bed in the middle of Myka's room is Helena, flat on her back, with an arm over her eyes. On her stomach, gently rising and falling with her every breath is Pete the ferret, snoring softly. The sun shines brightly through the open windows, lighting them both from behind and Myka feels stress melting off her in waves.
She has just enough presence of mind to shut the door behind her. Her boots are toed off on the way to the bed, her jacket tumbling down somewhere next to them.
"Hey," she whispers. Neither stir, and she smiles through a wave of fondness. "Hey. You two."
She grips Helena's shoulder and she wakes immediately, a vice-grip around Myka's wrist and wide eyes.
"Hi," Myka says stupidly. Dark brown eyes blink slowly back at her, filling Myka with a kind of warmth unrivaled by Helena's sleep and sun warmed skin through a thin blouse.
"The hero returns," Helena replies. Her voice is raspy, and Myka has never wanted to kiss her more – but she shouldn't, she tells herself, worrying at her lower lip. She really shouldn't. There are rules.
Helena takes the decision out of her hands and tips her mouth up to hers, soft and pliant.
"Hi," she says again, when Helena pulls back. She licks her lips and feels Helena's soft breath of a laugh, cool and affectionate.
"Hello," Helena murmurs. Pete wakes then, too and Helena shoos him away – though unless Myka's mistaken, there's a bit more fondness in her eyes than usual when confronted with the ferret. "Come here," she tells Myka, and catches the side of her mouth with soft lips, moving and pulling so that Myka is lying beside her, flushed with the novelty of this new caress.
