A/N I will try to update every week with this story. Thank you for all the follows, favs and reviews. Have never been a slave to reviews, but they have helped to inspire me, again, thank you.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy.
"Are you always been this dapper?" Myka grinned as she set her book down on the park bench.
"You did not stay long enough to form an educated opinion last night," Myka detecting that slight meloncollie cadence in her voice from their previous meeting in the park, of when Helena was speaking of the Vicar building.
Helena let the small curve of a smile wash over her lips as she watched Myka slid her arm over the top of the bench toward her. Helena just minutely feeling the slight warmth of the woman's fingers that inched near her bent head as she tied her shoe.
"True, but in my defense, my co-pilot was dragging me away, if you remember correctly," Myka smiled, turning half way to meet the woman's eyes as Helena sat down next to her on the park bench.
"So, Myka, by way of Colorado. You are an American pilot?" Helena had raised her leg, propping her heel on the edge of the wooden slats, stretching and pulling at her knee.
"Something like that, yes." Helena's eyes glancing sideways at the woman as she bowed her head to her knee.
"Ah, Army training," Helena saying into her knee.
"And what of 'Army training'?" Myka asked, trying to control the fierce strain of her back muscles stiffening up at this line of questioning.
"Just the gossip of the rigorous training you 'Yank' flyboys had to endure," Helena then dropping her leg down from the bench, twisting and stretching her foot and ankle. The long stretch of those legs, then ankles crossing over each other did not escape Myka's eye. Her trying to fight the urge to withdraw, to raise her 'walls'.
"Your meaning?" Myka asked. Her arm withdrawing from the top of the bench, away from Helena. A split second of fluster was had as to what to do with her hands. Her fighting back the urge to cross her arms defiantly over her chest to form a protective wall against the rapid beating muscle. Never had her heart warred so violently against her calm, analytical mind.
"We do share," Helena said, the retreat, the stiffness not going undetected by her. Myka looked up, her eyes trained on the bridge of Helena's nose, not daring to look into her eyes as she continued, "Our countries I mean, share a unique bond. Many a gossip has been had of the training the American army has subjected it's warriors to. The rigors of interrogation if one is captured by the enemy," both women then leaning their elbows to rest their weight on their thighs, staring at the worn path beneath their feet.
"I understand the reluctance …" Helena's voice breaking the strained silence between the two.
"Again I ask your meaning?" Myka said, her hands then cradling her jaw, turning slightly as she looked at the woman from the corner of her eye.
"Your reluctance to share anything of yourself," Helena matching Myka, cradling her jaw in her hands as she looked over to the woman sitting next to her. "I would have not the foggiest that you were, are, a pilot, if not for the chance meeting at my family's public house last night,"
"True," Myka smiled. "And, my thoughts of you …" Helena then leaning back as she watched Myka wave a shy hand up and down near her," of you, your attire does not exactly match the women here," Myka then blushing, pushing her raised face back to the semi-safety of her hands, her fingers splaying against her warming cheeks as she pressed her chin into her palms.
"And now," Helena raising an eyebrow, "it is my volley, your meaning?" Helena trying to restrain the storm of mixed emotions clawing at her chest.
"It's just …" Myka's fingers that splayed across her cheeks, now turned her head to address her, "when I saw you the first day, jogging by me. And now, you reminded me of the training sweats I would wear when in basic," Myka shrugged, hoping to downplay and hide the raging of her confusion.
"You are military?"
"Yes, but I try to down play that part of myself whilst endeavoring to pursue a special curiosity,"
Myka felt her body relaxing at the words spoken, that small worry in the back of her mind, of this wanton draw to this woman, of a strange and unique bond, was just the woman's way, she thought.
"So, I am a curiosity?" Myka smiling to herself. "Just another 'flyboy' in a uniform?" hurt and confusion mixing with a slight, hidden ego.
"If you are implying that I wished you a notch in my lipstick case," Helena turning to clear, green eyes. "Then, yes. But seeing as the first encounter of your lovely self was and is now, in your civilian clothes. Yes, that thought had crossed my mind," Helena crossing her arms across her waist, side-eyeing the woman seated next to her.
"I have not forgotten the use of 'special' before the other word," Myka feeling a calm inside her chest, her 'Ice Queen's' veneer wavering. Her mind clicking, subduing the race of her heart that this beauty sitting next to her … desired her?
'For a fling?' Myka mumbled.
"Something to that effect," Helena chuckled.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Did I just say that out loud?" Myka clapping her hand over her mouth. Her head screaming to will herself from hyperventilating. Sucking in the heavy air through her nose, Myka forced down her panic as she blew out the steady stream of air through her barely parted lips.
"Until last night, until you saw me in my dress Greens?" Myka thanking the Gods that she had one functioning brain cell for that retort.
"That, coupled with the fact that something, unspoken, happen-chanced upon our first meeting ..." Helena sighed as she shifted against the hard, wooden slates pressing into her back. Her fingers gripping tighter around her arms as she gathered her thoughts.
"You are due more than just a notch," Helena whispered. Myka watching as the woman shook her head slightly. Her head leaning back to rest on the back of the bench, the shadow of gray tinting her beautiful features were highlighted from the rays of the sun from the parting gray clouds that had hung over the park this day.
"You are more than the sum of your thoughts, of that uniform, that cocoons your true soul,"
Myka raised her eyes from her down-turned head, her brow furrowing at the words softly spoken.
"Are you always such a wordsmith?" Myka turning her head quickly as Helena's eyes snapped open, staring at her profiled face.
Helena stood up, turning her body back toward the path, speaking over her shoulder, "I must run, again. Duty calls," her eyes downcast as she smoothed her training sweats down. Helena started to jog down the path, halting as Myka's soft sigh filled her ears, her words dancing through her brain.
"So, I guess this is goodbye?" Myka then reaching for her book, her eyes downcast as she thumbed through the pages for her bookmark.
Helena jogged backwards, stopping in front of the woman, "I surmise that we shall meet again, Myka, by way of Colorado," Helena then grabbing gently at Myka's hand, warm lips brushing against cool skin.
"Until then, my Ice Queen," Helena quickly releasing Myka's hand as she sprinted down the path.
X
"Pete?"
"Yeah, Myke's?" Pete asked as he helped to unload their gunny sacks from the jeep minutes after pulling up to the barracks.
"Does everyone refer to my call name as Ice Queen?" Myka throwing her gunny sack over her shoulder.
"Well? Sort of Myka. You know how superstitious us fly boys are," Pete never looking at her as he unloaded the jeep. Him then nodding over to the far warehouse down the tarmac, "Seems someone does not think that,"
"Sammie," Myka whispered as she tossed her sack down, then digging for the can in it.
"Why do you ask?" Myka ignoring his question as she headed for the feline. The can in hand as she opened it.
"Nothing … no matter," Myka said over her shoulder as she headed for the warehouse, the black, ratty fur zipping between her legs as she walked. "Talk to you tomorrow at briefing?"
"Yeah, sure thing," Pete sighed.
Him remembering back to that night in the pub, the blonde man pulling him aside as the crowd sang.
"Is that really her?" he whispered to Pete, them both watching as Myka leaned back against the bar on her elbows in her full dress Greens, Helena inching closer as the woman moved back.
"Her, who?" Pete asked as he felt his gut tightening up.
"The Ice Queen, you know ...? The great Captain Bering?" his shoulder nudging Pete's as he nodding to the women over at the bar.
"And you are?" Pete's hinky feeling building with each tick of the clock.
"Where are my manners?" the man setting his glass down on the empty spot on the table, extending his hand, "Sargent William Wolcott, RAF, at your service," the man's grin then falling a bit as he looked at his unshaken hand, hanging in the space between them.
"Yeah, sorry. Lieutenant Lattimer, Army Air core." Pete then extending his hand to the man. His eyes shifting to the bar, watching the interaction between the two women.
"So, is she really 'the' Ice Queen?" Wolly's eyebrows rose, clinking his pint of dark stout against the glass of tonic Pete had brought over with him.
"The one and only," Pete's voice hesitant. "I think she is only into women," nodding to the two of them.
"Well, so is the 'Midnight Angel' over there," his head nodding to the women.
"No! Really? She is the Angel?" Pete' eyes widening as he watched his best friend smile, her head falling back as the dark haired woman whispered against her ear.
"Twenty three Messier kills?"
"And twelve notches in her bed post, but from the looks of things, thirteen?" him looking over the rim of his pint glass.
"Not tonight," Pete growled under his breath, "So good to meet you Sargent Wol …"
"Please, call me Wolly," his head nodding as he set his pint down.
"Yeah, Wolly, be seeing you?" Pete was saying as he rushed to Myka's side, pulling her away from the 'Angel'.
"Come on, Myke's. got to go," him rushing them out of the pub. Myka's eyes were wide as her fingers had slid away from the glass Helena had just bought them.
"What the hell, Pete!" Myka trying to fight off her co-pilots tugging.
"I just …" his eyes darting to the woman who had followed them out, then looking at Wolly as he tighten his arm around Helena.
"I can't be around all this alcohol. You know ...," his hand clenching at his gut, "One day at a time and all that," pulling Myka behind him as he rushed them back to the inn.
X
"We have a new group of escorts and a new tail-end Charlie coming in from the RAF. Major Valda will coordinate with the Brits for us," Major Neilson handing out packets to the pilots. Myka frowning as he skipped over her.
"There will be special assignments tasked to the lead pilots, Captain Bering will be lead commander while in flight for those chosen for the special missions." Myka's head shooting up at his words, her hand following almost as fast as his words as it shot up.
"Major Neilson?" Myka was starting to ask.
"Briefing for the special assignment will follow after this debriefing," Major Valda speaking up, his eyes training on the rest as he barked, "Dismissed,"
"Major Valda?" Myka fighting her way through the onslaught of exiting pilots from the room. Soon, it was only her, the Majors and Pete standing in the quiet room, "What of these special missions and new escorts?"
"You and the crew of the Shadow have been assigned special reconnaissance with the two new RAF escort planes," Major Valda then turning to his American counterpart. "You, of course, commanding the lead, "the man speaking into the maps and papers Artie had handed him. Never looking up at Myka as he spoke.
"Am I, I mean the Shadow, being grounded?" Myka gritting her teeth, trying to hold back the anger building at the thought of not leading her squadron into battle.
"Captain Bering?" a soft, unfamiliar voice was ignored as she stood closer to the two men.
"Why am I being pulled?" Myka's fists were clenched as she neared them.
"Captain Bering!" the voice commanding the room as it rose, all snapping their heads to the source.
"A moment of your time?" all in the room snapping to attention, their hands rushing to salute the general who walked forward.
"As you were," her dismissing them. "Except for you, captain Bering,"
Pete rushed behind Artie's retreating form, his head whipping back to look at Myka, 'What the heck?' him mouthing in silence as Myka subtly shrugged her shoulders.
"Major Valda?" the stoic woman then glaring at the man.
"I have yet to debrief Captain Bering on the retro fitting on the Shadow," his voice fading as the general raised an eyebrow.
"What retrofitting?" Myka glaring at the Major, her then backing a step as her eyes met the general.
"Major Valda?" her eyes shooting to the door of the briefing room.
"Yes, of course. You're 'need to know' and all," he said as he gathered up the papers from the desk. "Just remember, general, my compatriots are flying escort on this," him then giving a salute to the woman as he turned to exit the room.
"I have not forgotten that fact Major Valda, and speaking of which …" her hands clasping together as she stood in front of Myka, "Have they arrived yet?" her hand then raising as her head dipped down, looking at the hands of her watch.
"The 'angel' always makes her appointed time," his jaw jutting up, his eyes then nervously looking at the clock above their heads. "She has a window of forty five minutes before touch down, general."
Both women watching as a single bead of sweat slowly creeped down from the sandy-haired temple.
'Angel?' Myka whispered to herself behind the general.
"Captain Wells, her call name the 'Midnight Angel'.