A/N: I couldn't leave you hanging too long; we have enough waiting to do for season 5. (sidenote:anyone know when in 2014 that's coming out?) Anywho, enjoy

Disclaimer: you know the drill…

Chapter 4

"Helena!" I just about heard her, a whisper above the roar of pain in my abdomen.

"Gotcha!" I heard Pete exclaim in amongst an explosion of purple sparks and the rustle of a foil bag. Suddenly I could hear properly again, the pain in my abdomen was gone, and my head was beginning to clear. Apparently I hadn't been shot. I sat up to see Pete holding the snag bag aloft triumphantly, Myka sitting up and searching for me, and Derek crumpled at Pete's feet, blood leaking from the gaping bullet wound in his chest.

"Helena." Myka breathed my name, relief flooding her face as she stared at me, one hand over her stomach. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, darling; are you alright," I looked pointedly at her hand. She looked at it, as if surprised it was still hovering there. We both scrambled to our feet and crossed the distance to each other.

"I'm fine," she reassured me, engulfing me in a tight embrace, "just a little fuzzy headed." Suddenly she pulled back. "Ugh, can you please take that ridiculous sweater off because you smell all wrong." Pete caught my eye before he let slip a giggle and I turned back to Myka, trying not to smirk as I dragged the jumper up over my head and flung it on the ground behind me.

"Better?"

"Yes, much," she just about managed not to laugh as she pulled me to her again, and I tried not to revel too much in the feeling as my newly exposed skin met hers while she held me for several long moments. "You are still going to need a cleansing shower to get rid of it completely though," the laugh succeeded in edging into her voice.

"Hey!" I took her usual response and swatted her on the arm as I pulled back, feigning outrage before joining the laughter. As the adrenaline began to subside I bent, resting my hands on my knees and taking a deep breath. I felt her place a hand gently on my back, as if she knew I still appreciated the reassurance of her presence.

"Good job," her voice was soft and I was unclear whether she was addressing Pete or me or the both of us.

"I guess we should call Sheriff Kallan so the locals can come and deal with this," Pete's voice was also gentle as he indicated Derek's lifeless form, and I wondered if he was responding to my exhaustion or Myka's. "I'll do that, you call Artie." I straightened up, nodding along with Myka as Pete turned away, taking his phone from his pocket. Myka's hand drifted slightly down my back as I stood, lingering a moment before falling away.

"Ok," she addressed me now, "did you see the artefact he was using to change his appearance?"

"Yes," I perked up, remembering. "He dropped it behind him after he changed, just before he started on his little rant about breeders and guerrilla warfare." I strode over in the direction we had come from, searching the ground for the shiny object I had seen Derek throw. "There," I pointed as Myka snapped on some purple gloves. She bent down coming back up with the small figurine in her hand. She turned it around, examining curiously.

"Oh," I couldn't hold in the gasp. "That looks almost like the faces on the Janus coin." I felt my heart rate increase; evidently I still held a fair amount of subconscious fear for that particular tool. I felt her glance at me before she quickly dropped the figure into a foil bag, a small shower of sparks falling from it.

After a moment her free, now gloveless hand found its way to mine, squeezing gently. "We should call Artie."

Later that night we sat in the departure lounge at the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport having all decided we'd rather just get back to South Dakota than spend another night at our hotel.

"You ladies want anything if I go in search of food?"

"No food, thank you, Pete. A cup of tea would be divine though." I smiled tiredly at him as he grinned and nodded; the dear boy was worth a great deal more than I'd given him credit for in the first instances of our acquaintance.

"Mykes?"

"I'm alright, thanks." I turned and raised an eyebrow at her; I thought I knew her better than that.

"Not even Twizzlers?" Evidently Pete did too.

"Um," she hummed her hesitation before caving. "Ok, Twizzlers please." Another pause. "Make that two packs." She grinned guiltily and I smiled, feeling warmth spread through me again.

"Two packs of Twizzlers it is," he grinned back at her before spinning on his heel and bounding away.

"You had me worried for a moment there," I murmured as she sank down in her chair, resting her head on my shoulder. "Non-consumption of Twizzlers in a situation such as this would usually suggest illness or perhaps an artefact of some kind-" I chuckled and leant my head against hers as she punched me rather pathetically.

"If you're allowed tea, I'm allowed Twizzlers." I laughed at her tired brain's interesting take on logic, but instead of the expected punch she simply took my hand, lacing our fingers together and nestling closer into me. I tried not to breathe too deeply, not to make it too obvious that the scent of her tangled hair and the feel of her warm breath across my neck were driving me slightly wild. We sat in silence, enjoying the apparent calm of the quiet, the lack of life-threatening artefacts on the loose against us. "Make the most of my current tiredness, Helena," she mumbled against my collarbone, losing the rest of the sentence.

"Sorry, darling?" I probed gently, not wanting to wake her if she had in fact fallen asleep.

"I'm too worn out right now, but when we get home you are in trouble." Again, the end of her sentence was lost slightly to her exhaustion, but it was followed by the softest whisper of a gentle snore, so I decided against trying to follow it up. Besides, from what I'd gathered, I would only have been asking for 'trouble' anyway. I waited, trying to find the right level on which to appreciate the moment; the fine line between enjoying her closeness and being torn apart by it was always hard to tread.

"Ahh, isn't that sweet?" Pete's half laughing stage whisper interrupted my reverie as he collapsed into the chair the other side of Myka. "You two snuggled up together all cosy like that." I fought the urge to frown at him and hoped the blush I could feel rising on my cheeks was not too obvious. H.G. Wells does not blush; H.G. Wells is all unflappable roguish charm, she is one to make insinuations, not be embarrassed by them. The sassy eyebrow that he raised at me as he passed me my tea and unceremoniously dropped Myka's Twizzlers in her lap did make me wonder, and not for the first time, how much he suspected of my feelings for Myka. The boy was certainly intuitive, his so-called vibes having saved all of us on one occasion or another, but he'd never confronted me about it directly. Nevertheless there were these occasional sassy eyebrows and pointed looks which slightly unnerved me, made me realise that I was in dangerous territory, far too close to asking Myka for that which I desired but did not deserve.

"Oh," Myka jolted awake as the Twizzlers landed in her lap, her hand gripping mine a bit more tightly. "Helena?" her voice was small and confused until I squeezed her hand gently in return, watching her mind catch up with her situation.

"I'm here, darling," I reassured her gently, doing my best to ignore the return of that sassy eyebrow to Pete's face.

"Oh, Twizzlers; yay." The relaxed and almost childlike grin that spread across her face with her remembrance was a glorious sight to behold. "Thanks Pete." She untangled her hand from mine, sitting up to nudge him affectionately with her shoulder as she broke into her treat.

"You're welcome," he mumbled around his mouthful of doughnut.

"Yes," I addressed him, trying not to make at face at his rate of doughnut consumption, "thank you for the tea." I slurped it appreciatively and tried not to miss Myka's hand in mine.

Several hours further north we finally pulled in at the BnB; Myka's nap on the plane had revived her enough to make quick work of the drive back from the airport. The sun had finished creeping over the horizon, its pink tinges fading into bright blue and announcing the arrival of the day.

"It is time for bed!" Pete's weary excitement brought a smile to my face. "Four weeks in Texas is more than plenty for me, thank you very much."

"Agreed," I managed to say before being overcome by a deep yawn, "although perhaps a nice hot cleansing shower first."

"I think I'm going to stay up for a bit," Myka smiled at my reference but avoided my eyes as she spoke; I was too tired to question it, however, so I turned and trudged up the stairs.

"Helena," her voice was gentle but insistent. "Helena, wake up." There was greater urgency now. "Helena! It's ok, wake up; it's just a dream. Sweetheart, I'm here." I clung to the hand that was gently shaking me, swallowing the scream that threatened to break out again as visions of Myka in Derek's grip, the stone against her neck and a rictus of pain across her face, swam back through my mind, melting and shifting into the scene in Tokyo with her terrified trusting eyes looking up at me from her seat at the chess table, needing me to save her from a bloody fate, changing again to the gravelly gully at Yellowstone, her furious and desperate voice, hands shaking as she pushed a gun into my hand, demanding that I shoot her. "Shh, darling I'm here, it's alright." As I sobbed my relief into my pillow, I briefly wondered at the strangeness of her calling me 'darling'. I began to relax a little, realising that we were indeed both safely back at the B&B, all the artefacts snagged, bagged and tagged; the past was still the past. "Hey," her voice was low and soothing now. "Hey there, look at me."

I found myself curled in a ball at the edge of my bed, Myka's hand clutched between mine under my chin and her huge green eyes staring up at me from where she knelt on the floor. I was so torn between the desire to reach for her and the desire to hide myself away from that glorious purity, that overwhelming goodness, I thought I might burst. Instead, a short sob pushed its way out of me, forcing my eyes to close again as more of those wretched tears broke free to blaze new trails across my already stained face. I heard movement as she began to rise up, and I instinctively gripped her hand tighter before I realised what I was doing and let it go as if burned. To the surprise of my rather tremulous mind, she kept her grip on my hand firm as she chose not to disengage but to in fact climb over me, pulling back the covers until she was in my bed behind me, the hand that held mine moving down to my waist and pulling me firmly backwards until I was pressed flush against her, our fingers laced together across my stomach.

"It's ok," her soft murmur was right against my ear, warm breath skimming down my neck as her hand readjusted to grip me better. "It's alright, sweetheart, you're ok, I'm ok, we're ok." I tried to concentrate on breathing as I felt her nuzzle down into me, her soft lips all but brushing along the sensitive skin behind my ear and down my neck as she moved to press a gentle kiss to my shoulder. I didn't know what to do with myself, so just gave in to the mess of terrified emotions tumbling through me and cried as she held me; overcome by the echoes of fear for her, overcome by tiredness, overcome by the fact that she was holding me to her, her soft strength cocooning me in the warmth and scent of her body.

As we lay there together, my panic-induced exhaustion combined with the stupefying effect of her presence to completely relieve me of my ability to compose myself or rein in the terrors of my mind; an unfortunate side effect of an imagination capable of invention and storytelling is that reliving experiences in one's mind can have near enough as much impact as the original event. I wept and she held me, and I have no idea how long for because at some point I must have fallen asleep, a fairly miraculous event in its own right. I awoke again later, roused by the sound of Pete's heavy tread past my door, and took a moment to marvel at the wondrous thing it is to not wake up terrified, but instead to wake up quietly confused by the presence of heavenly strength and warmth and softness enveloping me. Her grip around my waist tightened as she murmured the gentle murmurs of one returning to the waking world.

"Helena?" Her voice was deep and gritty with sleep as she tugged gently at my hip, encouraging me to shuffle around and face her. She kept her arm securely around me as I turned, her other hand sneaking out from under her pillow to find mine and hold them close to her chest just under her chin. In my newly awakened state, my brain hadn't quite gathered its inhibitions yet so there was no voice loud enough to stop me from stretching my thumb up from where she held it to trace lightly along her jaw. She seemed to realise what I was doing just before I did so a hesitantly, searchingly hopeful smile managed to grace her features before my brain caught up and I froze. Her smile was warm now, and she held my gaze as she pressed a small kiss to the thumb that had dared to venture across her skin. "Hey," she smiled as she tucked my hands back under her chin, the arm around my waist shifting and settling again, holding me snugly to her. "You fell asleep." There was almost a sense of triumph in her tone; she recognised the feat.

"So it would seem." I smiled back, clearing my throat after sleep's neglect. "I," I paused, blinking and hardly able to believe it, "I didn't dream." Her smile only widened, brilliant white teeth showing slightly. "I don't remember the last time I slept, actually slept, without dreaming."

"You actually smiled at one point," she was almost smug, conscious perhaps that my sleeping serenity was probably due to her proximity. A blush began to rise prettily across her cheeks almost before I had a chance to raise an eyebrow, my lips quirking into a slight but unstoppable smirk.

"Just how closely were you watching, darling?" I couldn't even attempt to not enjoy her slightly flustered state, that lovely blush travelling down the elegant lines of her throat.

"Just enough to make sure you were ok," her voice was firm, her eyes wide with 'honesty' and the only signs of her slight discomfort were the rosy hues suffusing her skin. I smiled, releasing her from her embarrassment.

"Well for that I am truly grateful." I met her eyes hesitantly before giving in, telling myself I was just following her lead; I brought the hand with which she'd captured both of mine to my lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. I heard her hold and release an uneven breath and prayed I had not misjudged. When I met her eye again, there was such radiant happiness there that I felt hope, that unwelcome and dangerous beast, begin to prowl around in my chest once more. Her thumb caressed along the lines of my palm and I had to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm the riotous havoc her simple actions were wreaking upon my insides.

"You are more than welcome," her voice was soft, those beautiful green orbs full of grace and kindness, imploring me to believe her. Her face became serious again, her eyes dropping before coming back up to search mine. "Is it always that bad when you're dreaming?" I sighed, heavy with knowledge I didn't want her to carry but that I knew she wouldn't let me keep from her.

"I, I don't know really." She cocked her head, not understanding. "I mean it didn't seem much worse than normal from my perspective, but then I don't usually wake you up with my crying, do I? Do I?" I was suddenly afraid that she'd been being even kinder to me than I'd realised.

"No you don't," she hesitated slightly before continuing, "but I wasn't asleep this time. I, um, I was worried that the nightmares might be worse after yesterday and I wanted to be able to be there straight away when you woke up so," another hesitation, "so I was listening out for you." Her face was tinged with trepidation, uncertain as to how I would react to this knowledge. "I, I just didn't want you to hurt any more than I could help it." I blinked, unable to process her words properly, too many different responses fighting for dominance. There was gratitude that she'd been there, wonder that she cared enough to stay awake for me even in our exhaustion, annoyance that she'd deprived herself of much-needed sleep for someone so undeserving, embarrassment that my need for her was so apparent despite my attempts to conceal it, awe at her generosity, her graciousness, her compassion and her wondrous yet somehow unconscious beauty. I felt a treacherous tear sneak past my defences, sliding down my face and forcing me to drop her gaze again. "Hey," she released the hands she'd clasped against her chest, bringing her now free hand to gently wipe away that perfidious droplet. "Hey," she drew the word out, low and soothing, as her hand tracked slowly back along my jaw until she held my chin, lightly pulling up until I met her eye again.

"Thank you," I mumbled, my words threatening to be lost in a tearful mess. "I'm sorry; you shouldn't feel you have to do th-"

"You're not forcing me to do this, Helena," slight exasperation had crept into her tone. "Again, let me state that I am here with you because I want to be. I do not feel under duress, I have not been coerced, the only thing forcing me here is my own desire to be here for you." She sighed gently, making me face her again. "What's it going to take for you to understand that? You know, for someone so remarkably smart, you are a complete dumbass when it comes to the fact that I think you're someone worth caring for and that I want to be the one doing the caring."

"Well," I began after a rather nonplussed pause.

"H.G. Wells at a loss for words?" She raised an eyebrow, smirk firmly in place as she enjoyed the fact that she got to witness me floundering in a way that few people had.

"Never," I rebuffed, my voice as weak and determined as my smile. "I was simply slightly put off by the unexpected appearance of one of the less pleasant modern American colloquialisms in your vernacular. Really, darling? 'Dumbass'?" I felt a grin creep across my face as she was unable to hold back her laughter; whether it was at my English pronunciation of the word or my use of it at all that entertained her, I don't know. As she relaxed down into her pillow, I was reminded forcefully of our current situation by the brush of her long limbs against me as she stretched them out, a tiny, glorious moan escaping her lips, before she released the stretched muscles with a sigh and settled comfortably alongside me again, the arm about my waist keeping me close to her. I felt every place we were touching begin to burn, the sensation at once exhilarating and excruciating, and that familiar ache suddenly became unbearable. "What time is it?" I gently but firmly removed myself from her grip, assuring myself that the disappointment I saw on her face was a figment of my imagination, and sat up, searching for my bedside clock.

"It's almost lunchtime," she sighed as she rolled over onto her back before she also sat up, leaning back against the headboard.

"That explains why I heard Pete going by," I mused aloud, smiling as she chuckled. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," she stated after another stretch; I managed to not look at her as she did so, well aware that her current attire would do little to hide the way in which such stretching served to highlight the many perfections of her form. "Meet you downstairs in ten minutes? I think I need a shower to wake up first." I nodded my consent and did my best to behave appropriately as she smiled gently at me, pulling me close for one last embrace before dropping a gentle kiss on my forehead and leaving the room. I sat, a little dumbfounded upon my bed, decided to resist the urge to breathe in the scent she had left on my pillow, and then found myself holding said pillow to my face, my reverent grip marking it as sacred. I shook my head at my own foolishness, but realised I shouldn't really have expected anything else; my ability to resist that delicate bouquet, that sweet vanilla mixed with something gloriously and addictively indefinable, was minimal to nonexistent.