They were in a strip club, as all the others called it. When Pete told her about their plans, she didn't exactly imagine it to be this.

"I don't mind going to a male strip club," he had said. "Most of the customers are going to be ladies. I'm sure I could find one or two to take home for my own private dance."

"Our usual strip club is fine, Pete," Myka grumbled.

"How about you, Wolcott?" Pete asked. When she gave him a blank stare, he added, "I mean I'm not assuming anything here because you can totally be straight and still appreciate the female form."

That earned him a punch to his arm from Myka.

"He's asking if you're comfortable going to a strip club where the entertainment is mostly for men." Myka clarified for him.

"I don't see why not," she had said to them. "Besides, it's 2006, is it not? Surely men and women can openly share the same interests."

She didn't know then that the interest in question was the naked female body.

Myka and Pete didn't waste any time. They headed straight to the stage, took a seat that was closest to the dancer of their choice, ordered a drink and unashamedly ogled said dancers.

Strippers, they called them, if they were being crude. Exotic dancers if they cared to be polite.

"Those two, they're um…" Jon said, rubbing the back of his head. He was the only one who didn't seem too eager with the idea when it was suggested. "Let's get a booth."

Helena glanced at Myka. She was tucking a banknote in her dancer's underwear, though she didn't think its purpose was to be under anything, as the dancer leaned in to whisper something to her ear.

This Myka was different. They were all different. But the Mykas she had met were always bound by certain quite rigid rules. This one seemed a bit more flexible.

It was interesting.

"I apologize for letting them drag you here," Jon said.

"There is nothing to apologize for," she said. "If anything, I find this establishment quite amusing."

"Well, I'm glad."

He shook his glass a little, staring at the ripple his drink made. When he looked up, Helena smiled awkwardly. They hadn't spoken much to each other. All of her dealings with the three were mostly done with Pete. Myka didn't trust her. She would admit it loudly every time they met, telling her colleagues how Helena's presence was too convenient.

"I'd ask how you got into the spy business," he said, "but I think you'll just say something like, if I told you, I would have to kill you."

Helena chuckled. "Actually, I could, without having to kill you of course. But I don't think you will believe me. Maybe later, when we're drunker and everything we say is assumed to be gibberish."

The man smiled. "Drink up, then."

...

What was she doing? A stripper, a very hot stripper, just told her if she was patient enough to wait for an hour, they can do unimaginable things to each other later. Free of charge.

But Myka kept on stealing glances at Helena.

"You could bring your friend if you want," the stripper whispered to her ear.

Her name was Jewel or Silver or something to do shiny objects (her overuse of glitter definitely reflected that). Myka couldn't remember. Her attention was elsewhere. She slipped a ten in the stripper's g-string and smiled apologetically.

"I don't think she's interested," said Myka. "And, this is kind of painful to say, neither am I. Not tonight anyway."

"Whatever, honey," the stripper slowly backed away to the central pole. "Just tell me if you and your girlfriend decide to try something kinkier than her watching you watching me." She wiggled her fingers.

"She's not—" then she realized that several of the men sitting nearby were leering at her. "Look at the ladies on stage, gentlemen. That's what they're here for."

Was Helena looking at her? Myka glanced for the hundredth time since the last hour. She wasn't. It looked like she was having a lot of fun with Jon. Laughing and downing drink after drink. More like buddies than two people flirting with one another. Besides, Jon had a fiancé. So there was no way—

Again with that. It was like Helena had taken over her mind these past few days. Mostly about how she could screw them over. So far, all her intel was solid. Pete and Jon thought it couldn't hurt to work with her. The progress they had made on the case was more than what they had been doing the past year.

Myka couldn't disagree but it didn't stop her from racking her brain trying to find the possible ways Helena can employ to ruin their investigation. They had to be prepared somehow.

But slipping in and out between those thoughts were stupid thoughts like, 'What kind of food does she eat for breakfast?' or 'Tea or coffee?' or 'Does she cook?' They came at random and sometimes inconvenient times.

Like now, when she was supposed to be staring at jiggling tits and firm asses to take her mind of, yes, Helena. Instead, she was thinking if Jon and Helena had anything in common and how loyal was Jon to his fiancé even though she knew Jon wouldn't cheat on her. Even catching a glimpse of another woman's breast made him feel guilty. That was why he hated it every time she and Pete wanted to go to a strip club.

That was how people should think. Based on verifiable information and arranging that information in a clear sequence to reach a logical conclusion. Not based on some gut feeling.

Maybe it worked for Pete. And good for him because it can be handy sometimes. But she wasn't Pete.

She had her own ways of reading people. And her gut had nothing to do with it.

...

She and Jon were having a conversation when Myka came over to their booth. Then she proceeded to whisper some very titillating propositions to her ear.

Helena was quite ashamed to have such weak resolve.

She didn't have a reason to be secretive with Myka. But she acted mysterious anyway, dodging certain questions and claiming they were sensitive information. It was how Myka treated her the last time and she thought it was well deserved. Besides, it was amusing. But it didn't take much to make her crumble apparently. With only a few sentences, she was putty in Myka's hands. It reminded her of the strength in words.

"Jon, do you mind looking after Pete?" Myka asked as Helena tried to maintain her composure. "You know how he gets when he's drunk."

"Sure. But where are you going?" asked Jon.

"A little sightseeing with Agent Wolcott here," Myka said. "This is your first time in Vegas, right?"

Helena had said yes. And she knew very well that she wasn't accepting an invitation to a tour along the Strip.

"I wish our motel isn't so far away," Myka said as she tried to hail a taxicab.

It gave her an idea which she thought was brilliant at the time.

"We could get a room at a hotel nearby."

"The hotels around here cost eighty bucks a night and that is for their cheapest rooms, if," Myka stressed, "those rooms haven't sold out yet."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "And how much money did you spend on that lovely girl you had been gawking at for the past hour?"

Myka smiled sheepishly. "Well, if we split the cost..."

"Let's go."

But Myka was right. All of the rooms within her price range were gone.

"I'm afraid the only rooms we have are our suites," said the hotel manager.

"Do you want to try a different hotel?" Helena asked Myka.

Myka sighed. "I think it'll be cheaper and quicker if we get a cab. It's a weekend. It won't be any different anywhere."

Helena looked at the manager.

"Have you decided?" he asked.

"We'll take a suite," Helena said, ignoring Myka's suggestion.

MacPherson gave her this plastic card that seemed to work like money, only it was returned every time she used it. He also mentioned something about credit limit but she wasn't sure what that meant so she ignored it.

"Excuse us for a second," Myka said, smiling tightly to the manager. "Are you crazy?" she whispered. "That suite costs one thousand a night."

That was a lot, even if converted in pounds. But it didn't seem to bother Helena. She might not be able to physically hurt MacPherson but this could at least hurt him financially (if her assumptions on how the card worked were true).

"The MI6 is quite charitable regarding their agents' expenses," she said. "Don't worry about it."

It seemed she was full of bright ideas tonight. Until they dimmed exceptionally fast to darkness.

They started kissing as soon as they entered the suite. She made some witty joke about which room they were going to defile. They wordlessly agreed on the living room as they weren't patient enough to walk the ten feet towards the nearest bedroom.

She thought everything was going well until suddenly Myka pushed her away. She mumbled something. Helena couldn't quite make out what it was.

"What's wrong?" Helena asked.

Myka looked as if she just saw a ghost. She backed away from Helena while grabbing whatever item of clothing her hand could reach. She then covered her body. Helena looked around to make sure she wasn't missing anything and found nothing. It was her. She was the ghost.

Helena moved forward to touch her but Myka backed away further.

"H…" her breath hitched. "H.G.?"

...

It was not what she planned.

She thought Helena was drunk from the number of empty glasses on the table. Her tongue was probably looser. Myka figured she just needed a little bit of incentive to spill out her secrets.

She had never done it before. Seducing truths out of suspects. Mostly because she got all squeamish just thinking about it. But Helena, despite her distrust towards the woman, was a goddess so the issue of nausea was not a problem.

They were supposed to make out a little in the backseat of a taxi. Helena was going to tell her everything during the twenty minute ride. And she was going to slam the door on her face when they got to the motel. Or arrest her depending on what her answers were.

But of course she couldn't get a single taxi. Then Helena suggested that they find a hotel nearby. She wasn't worried as she knew all of the hotels around were probably full except for some insanely expensive suites. Her plan can still be executed.

They went to three different hotels before Myka suggested they just go back to their motel. She didn't want to seem too eager. But then Helena offered to pay for a suite.

She refused. Helena insisted. She refused again but Helena was being stubborn. It didn't take long before it turned into a full blown argument. She remembered feeling so furious and she had this urgent desire to strangle Helena. That brought her eyes to Helena's neck. Down to her collarbones and further down, they found…other things which were quite enticing.

Myka stepped forward suddenly, surprising Helena into silence. She didn't know what possessed her. She reasoned later as she tried to insert the damn key card while Helena was being very distracting that it was the strippers. All that staring without anything happening. She was bound to feel a little horny.

She smirked as she realized that she just caught Helena off guard. But that satisfaction wore off quickly as Helena regained her composure. Her lips quirked up as well and she saw the familiar little smile that both annoyed her and made her knees weak.

At this point, everyone was staring at them. It was one of those hotels where tourists come like it's a fucking museum. Fellagio? Bellatio? Fellatio? That didn't sound right. She cursed Pete. He probably told some inappropriate joke about the name and instead of remembering the hotel's real name, her brain decided to pick up the inappropriate part of the joke.

But it didn't matter that people were staring. She and Helena were having a staring contest of their own. They were too stubborn to make the first move. So they both waited for what felt like hours. But to the bystanders, it was only six seconds.

Myka swore she was not the one who leaned forward first. But that would bring about another argument which they were too busy to have at the moment.

It was the little things that made her notice. Like how Helena hooked her finger on the opening between Myka's buttons. The way her right hand couldn't stay at one place as they were kissing. How she licked her lips when she was nervous.

Myka tried to ignore them but her overactive mind couldn't let it go. It continued processing the information. And when it finally reached a conclusion, she couldn't believe it. How could she? It was impossible.

It was a scary thought. It meant she can't trust her sight. And she always believed in what she saw. They were a great source of evidence.

She felt herself trembling. She couldn't say his name. The first time, she blurted it out unknowingly. It was harder the second time because now, it wasn't just a random thought. Saying it out loud meant she admitted the possibility that he was real. And all those years of trying to decimate the memory of him will be a huge waste.

She wished she was wrong. She even prayed for it. But the only way to know for sure was to ask this person in front of her, whoever she might be.

It only had two syllables and yet she stumbled on the first. She tried again. Her voice lacked its usual confidence. But then again, it was to be expected. Her sanity depended on the answer.

"How did you know?" Helena asked, no longer trying to get closer to her.

She cursed loudly. "Now I know I'm crazy."

"No," said Helena quickly. "Actually, no. I have no idea what you were talking about. I tend to do that," she rambled on, "I blurt out things when I'm caught off—"

"Now I know you're a liar," Myka cut her off. Did she say that out loud? Her thought process was in chaos. She can't think properly. "I'm either insane or you're a liar," she said to no one in particular. Or maybe herself. Or Helena. Or both.

Helena seemed to notice this bemused state she was in as she took another careful step forward. Myka didn't back away this time. But her eyes remained fixed on Helena.

"You're a super creepy stalker. Yes. That's why you knew. What else do you have on me? My crush on Kurt Smoller?" Myka continued.

"I didn't know that," Helena said, smiling a little.

"What's so funny?" Myka snapped.

"It's just…Kurt Smoller thinks 'two pi r' is an invitation to say awesome instead of the circumference of a circle. I still don't know whether I should be baffled about his bad grammar or his lack of basic mathematical knowledge."

Myka chuckled. This wasn't the time but still, she found herself reminiscing about the boy. "Shut up. He's sweet," she said, her cautious eyes softened to show a slight affection.

"They say he's fine now but I think there's still something wrong with him," he had said to her suddenly during one of their tutoring sessions, "or he wouldn't be pretending like you don't exist. You're not like any other girl in this school, you know."

She had responded to that with a chuckle and some self-deprecating comment.

He didn't laugh. His eyes stayed on his book. "You kind of scare me. You know about a lot of things and you care about important stuff I don't understand. It always feels like you're way ahead of any of us. So, Dylan," she finally remembered his name, "is really stupid for letting you go. Actually," he chuckled, "that explains why he can't tutor me anymore."

That made her laugh, genuinely. It was around that time she developed a crush on him. And it made it easier to forget H.G. when she fixated on him.

"I think he liked you," Myka said fondly. But upon realizing what she just said, she started panicking again. It didn't help that Helena was now only inches away from her. "Oh my god, I really am crazy."

She hugged her knees tighter as if it could protect her from Helena.

"Oh, love," Helena spoke softly. She knelt down. "I assure you, that is not the case. It is a little hard to explain but you're not wrong. It is me."

"Of course you'd say that. You're my delusion."

Helena's hands moved cautiously over Myka's on each side of her thighs. She covered them when Myka did not move.

"I cannot remove your fears but I can face them with you," her voice was soothing. She had used the same gentle voice, the exact words.

Myka almost believed her. "Doesn't mean anything. You're in my head."

"We can call Pete. I can explain everything to the both of you. Then you will know that someone else heard the exact same thing and it isn't your mind playing games with you."

"Drunk Pete is the last person I'll believe."

"How about Jon?"

"Jon will flip."

"Not the way Pete won't?" asked Helena.

Myka didn't respond. Maybe if she treated him, her, no, it (there was no use in humanizing it) like it didn't exist, then it will go away.

But it made its presence known by clutching on her hands.

"Myka," it called to her.

She had already closed her eyes. Maybe if she covered her ears—

It took that opportunity to grab hold of her wrists. Myka pushed but it continued pulling her close. Finally, it let go but only to have its arms around her. They were strong. She pushed again. There was a gasp but it held on tight. She wondered if an illusion can feel pain. Maybe it was an indication. But maybe it was faking.

Its body was warm. It had this fruity smell, like a kid's shampoo. She could feel small quantities of air blowing against her neck steadily. It was breathing. Myka found herself becoming less and less resistant. She opened her eyes. It still had a face.

Dark eyes. Pale skin. Full lips.

Myka stopped fighting. She knew it had a pulse. She felt it when it grabbed on to her wrists. She placed her ear on its chest.

"What…what are you doing?" it asked.

It had a heart. No. She had a heart. It was hard not to miss her womanly curves.

Full lips. Painted red. Tempting her. His were always chapped.

Myka looked into those dark brown eyes. His were blue.

She held her hair. They were soft. His was straw like. And blond.

The funny thing was no matter how much she tried to disprove herself, she ended up convincing herself more. That scared her. Her thoughts became all jumbled up, confusing her.

But once she accepted it, it became easier to think clearly. She thought back to the things he claimed to be. How awkward he was as a boy. And when he rejected her completely after he got better (according to everyone else), she just knew it wasn't him. She knew it all along when he appeared before her with the same arrogance and the constant glint of mischief in her eyes accompanied by that annoying smile.

Nevertheless, old habits die hard. Myka had to make sure that one, she was really human and two, this familiarity will not go away.

And sure enough, H.G. passed both tests excellently.