Author's Note: I've been asked to post another chapter before my vacation, although I have a nagging feeling that you'll be disappointed with how this chapter leaves off. Don't worry too much, though; I'll have my computer during my trip, and as I have several chapters typed already, I don't think posting should be a problem. Review, please!
"Myka?" Helena called, after knocking on the door and receiving no reply.
Their latest mission had been hell in the Arizonian desert. They'd been there for a week, and Helena had been under explicit, Claudia-instated instructions to let things lie, and try to act normal until they returned home. Claudia had said that it would distract her; stress her out, and make things worse. So Helena had followed the rules. But they were home now, and she'd spent a week alternating between the two agonies of knowing that she had caused that dreadful sadness in Myka's eyes, and the guilty one of admiring her in small clothing suited for the hot weather.
She needed to speak with her friend.
She tried calling for her again, but when Myka failed to respond a second time, Helena grew worried and cracked the door open to try for a third.
"Come in!" She heard a distant shout.
When she opened the door, though, Myka was nowhere to be found. Helena tried the bathroom, and all but swooned on her feet when she found Myka in the bathtub, buried beneath a mountain of bubbles. And although Helena could only see her face and the long, long legs that were propped against the opposite end of the tub, Myka floored her.
It took a moment for Helena's eyes to find Myka's face again, but when she did, she supposed that she had been lost for a moment too long, because she could read in her friend's gaze that she was concerned and expectant.
"Sorry, could you repeat that, darling?"
Fool, Helena berated herself. Focus, Wells.
Myka's brows furrowed, but she said, "I asked if everything was alright."
This wasn't how she'd pictured it, but the manipulative part of her couldn't help but to think that this was probably best, as Myka was essentially trapped between her and the bathtub. She sat down on the toilet seat and shrugged a bit. "I guess that depends on what you'd call 'alright.'"
"Are you okay, Helena?" Myka asked, concern now overtaking most of her face, and Helena felt abruptly flattered.
"I – Well, it's come to my attention that the way I've treated you is," Helena paused, sure that she was wording this wrong, but shook her head and pushed onward, "well, it's ghastly, Myka."
Myka pulled her legs back into the tub and used them to push herself further upward, so that she could get a better look at the Victorian woman who had invaded her bathroom. "What do you mean? You've had my back and I've had yours; that's what partners do," the woman replied, offering a small smile despite her obvious confusion.
"In the field, I suppose you're correct," Helena nodded. "But that isn't exactly what I meant."
Myka raised a brow, but didn't ask. The question was implied.
The renowned author grappled in her mind for the words and sentences that she had put together over the past week, but now that she sat before Myka, they all seemed weak and insubstantial.
"Myka, I'm so sorry. For all that I've done, and how I've left you. I can't – "
"Helena," Myka interrupted, "it's water under the bridge. We've gotten past that, right?"
Helena was quite sure that she hadn't, and was even surer that Myka hadn't. "I wish that it were that simple," she said carefully. "But I've done awful things, Myka. And I'm not really sure what I've done them for. I had thought that my reasons were sound, when I acted upon them, but…"
Helena looked down, unable to face the woman who truly had been there for her worst moments, and defended her despite them. But she looked up when she heard the water shift, and stared, in clear astonishment, when Myka's hand emerged from beneath the bubbles to reach for hers.
"You don't need to apologize to me," Myka said gently, watching curiously as Helena clutched onto her hand for all that she was worth. "You're a good person, Helena. You want what every good person wants: happiness and the opportunity to set things right, to put them the way that they should be. It wasn't madness that drove your actions; it was good will, and a frustration for everyone else's inaction. You don't owe me or anyone else any apologies. I know that you've punished yourself for what's happened, but I never doubted your intentions, even when the worst of them were put in motion."
"Myka, stop," Helena insisted. "You truly are a wonderful, gifted, insightful woman, but you see in me what I fear isn't there. I do owe you an apology. In fact, I owe you several."
"I don't want them," Myka said, leaning her head against the edge of the tub and turning her face upward to face the ceiling. Helena found, however, with a great deal of hope and pleasure, that Myka's hand never left hers.
"Myka, listen to me," Helena persisted, looking down at their clasped hands and soothing her thumb over the curve of Myka's wrist. "You have been the kind of friend to me that I believed were only written about in stories. And if not an apology, then allow me to say this: I am grateful, and blessed, and flattered to have that sort of friendship. And I'm so very pleased that I get to have that with you."
Myka tilted her head and smiled up at her. Helena's insides warmed, but she had more to say. "And I haven't returned that kind of friendship to you as I should have."
The secret service agent rolled her eyes. "Helena, really, it's been an ungodly week. I feel dirty, and exhausted, and while you're being very sweet and apparently having all sorts of revelations, rehashing our history really isn't in the cards for my evening."
"Is that so?" Helena raised a brow, unable to help the flirty smile that curved at her lips. "Because this has been in my cards all week."
"What?" Myka chuckled. "Having a heartfelt chat while I'm in the tub?"
"Well, the heartfelt chat part, yes. The bit about you being in the tub – well, I just can't complain about that, can I?"
Myka's smile turned a bit wistful, and despite her incredulity on the subject, Helena couldn't help but to feel hopeful about what that little smile meant for them.
"Sweet talker," Myka murmured, allowing her eyes to drift shut.
"Myka," Helena said, waiting just long enough to watch those gorgeous hazel eyes open and hone in on her. "I'm not all talk, you know."
"Mm," Myka hummed, smiling as her eyes fell shut again. "That's what they all say."
"No, darling," Helena said quietly, with a little tremor that she hated herself for and yet couldn't keep from her voice, "I'm being quite honest with you."
Myka's eyes opened again to focus on her, and her face looked – well, Helena was just too damn nervous to read Myka Bering's face, but she was sure that she could hear her heart snap when Myka's hand fell away from hers. Helena looked down at her empty hands as Myka cleared her throat.
"I know that after all I've done, I haven't the right to say such things – "
"Helena – "
"But I am being honest with you, Myka," Helena spoke over her, determined to – if nothing else – make herself clear about what she felt for this woman. "I find you…" Helena laughed self-deprecatingly, but persevered, "I find you absolutely captivating. Honest, truly good-hearted, unendingly kind, and so bloody forgiving that I often feel I'm taking advantage."
"Helena – "
"And beautiful," Helena whispered, finally looking up from her trembling hands to face the cause of her anxiety. "Myka Bering, I'm over a hundred and forty years old, and can genuinely say that I have never set eyes on a woman as beautiful you. And you just… unequivocally stagger me."
Myka looked back at her, and her gaze never once tore away, but Helena still couldn't read what thoughts were travelling through that brilliant mind.
"Hand me that," Myka requested.
Helena was confused, until she noted that the hand that had pulled from hers was pointing at the towel rack behind her. Helena knew now why Myka had been trying to interrupt her, but whatever Myka's reasons for wanting the leave the tub, Helena couldn't get the towel for her.
"Helena," Myka said her name softly, and with such care, but the British woman's eyes were watering, and her legs were trembling, and her eyes didn't shift from Myka's. "Hand me that towel, please?"
Helena had been holding her breath, and when she released it, it came out nearly as a sob, and she felt absolutely pathetic as she answered, "I can't."
"Please?" Myka asked again, impossibly softer than the last.
Helena shook her head fervently, and her voice fell hard on a quake. "You misunderstand me, Myka. As humiliated as I feel right in this moment, and as desperately as I wish to remove myself from your quarters, it appears that I can't move."
Myka's pointed finger fell once more to Helena's lap, and as much as Helena enjoyed it, she simply couldn't tear her eyes from Myka's face.
"Helena," Myka whispered, focused equally as intently on her friend's face as she rubbed slow circles against the jeans that covered Helena's knee, "no matter which way you look at this, I'm at a disadvantage."
A jolt of Helena's reality crashed down on her and she laughed, though she still wasn't sure that it emerged as much more than a gasp. "You're at a disadvantage? I'm baring my soul to a stunning, naked woman, and all she's doing is requesting that I bring her a towel!"
"I'm asking you for a towel," Myka replied quietly, her eyes dark and, Helena could suddenly see, frightened, "because I need to get out of this water. I'm pruning. And also because you being here, and saying all of those insanely complimentary things about me, leaves me wanting more than a conversation – and a conversation is what we need to have right now. So if you could just take a few deep breaths for me, and, when you're ready, grab me that towel, I'd be very grateful."
Her words had relieved Helena, just slightly, but she was still absurdly incapable of motion, so she nodded her head, and stared at Myka, and watched her chest rise and fall beneath the water until she could match her breaths accordingly.
"Alright," Helena said quietly, several moments later. "Alright." She twisted, and leaned upward, sure to never leave Myka's range of grasp, because until she absolutely couldn't have it any longer, she wanted to keep Myka's slim fingers covering her knee. She was pretty sure that her friend's touch was the only thing keeping her from madness.
"Thank you," Myka whispered, accepting the towel and holding it up in both arms to shield herself from Helena's view, as the British woman stood and mustered every mannered bone in her body to avert her gaze.
"Helena," she heard a moment later, closer behind her, and she turned to face her partner.
"I – ah," Helena broke off, certain that she'd been about to suggest something, but her nerves were severely damaged and Myka's hair was dripping and if she tried, she was sure that she could follow several drops of water through the valley between Myka's breasts.
Myka gingerly reached up to graze Helena's cheek with wet, gentle fingers, and she tried for a comforting smile, but Helena could see that she was nervous, too. Helena couldn't help but to lean into the woman's faint touch against her face.
Myka's chin shifted forward just over Helena's shoulder, indicating the bathroom door, and she said quietly, "We should sit."
"Right. Yes, of course," Helena shifted on shaky legs and turned toward the door, but when she reached the threshold, she tilted her head over her shoulder to be sure that her companion was just behind her.
Myka nodded, soothing her the smallest bit, and followed her into the bedroom, where she gestured toward the bed.
