Myka Bering had only loved once. It had been a soft, gentle affair. He was strong and kind; she was brave and sincere. Together, they had happily floated through their daily routines, knowing little of pain and suffering. They had never fought, never said a cruel word to each other, never given each other anything but simple joy.
Sam.
The name itself was enough to send Myka over the edge into a pit of darkness and despair. Which was exactly where she found herself that night, tangled up with her blankets, on the unfamiliar hotel bed, her pillow and face drenched in tears.
Myka didn't know how long she'd been like that. When she had come back from the hospital and collapsed into the bed, it had still been light outside. Now she could hear crickets chirp in the chill night air that was floating in through her open window, but she didn't care. She couldn't bring herself to get up, to push back her feelings, to go back to being herself. But it was ok. Because she was alone. Completely alone, with no one to see her fall apart.
As far as the rest of the world knew, Myka Bering didn't do falling apart.
She was so absorbed in her misery that she didn't hear the key lock on her door click and the handle slowly turn.
"Myka?" came a quiet, hesitant voice from her now open doorway. Myka jumped up in surprise, but being tangled in her sheets, wound up falling off the bed with a loud thump.
"Myka! Are you alright?" Helena said, running over to the detective's side. Myka didn't know what she was doing in her room. Or how the hell she had unlocked her door. But even in her state of panic, she had a plan. A plan that involved yelling at this nosey, annoying, lock-picking Brit to get out.
Her plan, however, completely failed the second Helena reached out and pulled her into her arms.
Myka couldn't remember the last time she'd cried that hard. And it was more than just a simple cry. It was her very soul being weeped out in heaving sobs, her body trembling with hypothermia of the heart, her lungs shouting out for air as she silently screamed into the warm, comforting arms that held her close and slowly rocked her back and forth.
Helena didn't understand what was going on inside the woman she had come to adore. She didn't know the tragic back story. She didn't have a clue what could possibly make such a strong, independent, well put together woman completely crumble this way. But it didn't matter. All she knew was that Myka the brave, Myka the tough, Myka the cold, Myka the serious, emotionless, guarded statue, had become Myka the vulnerable. She couldn't offer helpful words, but she could hold her tight and be her anchor through the storm of emotions erupting from her suddenly frail and fragile form.
Myka could feel the afternoon on her face before she managed to slowly open her swollen eyes. She felt like crap and it took her a few sleepy moments to remember why.
And that was when she noticed the arm draped over her waist. Slowly, she turned onto her back and looked at the woman who had held her all through the night. She didn't know how she felt about it all. Never in her life had she been so raw in front of anyone. No one had ever seen her so weak before, and she felt like she should be afraid of the power this PI she barely knew had over her.
Instead, she felt comforted. There was finally someone she didn't have to hide from. That thought was so incredibly...liberating.
Helena awoke to shining green eyes staring at her; crazy curly hair tumbling over the well-shaped shoulders of the gorgeous woman propped up on her elbow, watching her wake up.
"Thank you," Myka said quietly once she was sure Helena was awake.
"For what?" she responded groggily, sleep still coating her voice. Myka simply smiled in return, then got up and walked into the bathroom.
When she came back out again, after having soaked her swollen face in cold, refreshing water, she found Helena sitting on the edge of the bed.
"You can use my bathroom, if you want," Myka said, wiping the water off her face. Her comment was met with an intense stare, so she attempted to continue in order to fill the silence.
"I'm not gonna force you to go to your room...You can take a shower too, if you want...and I guess you could borrow some clothes?...I think I have some spare change in my wallet..."
"Myka, darling, stop before you give away your whole inheritance."
Myka blushed. She was usually pretty good in awkward situations, but this emotional vulnerability was all new to her.
"Sorry, I just..."
"It's alright. You do not have to feel like you owe me anything."
Myka stared down at the floor.
"But...You were there. You were there for me, the way no one else has ever been before. And you don't even really know me."
Helena stood up and walked over to the taller woman, placing a gentle hand on her arm.
"I'd very much like to know you."
Their eyes met and Myka felt her lungs fail and her heart race.
"Would that be alright?" Helena continued. Myka couldn't speak. She knew that if she tried to form words, she'd just end up crying again, although she had no idea why. So instead, she slowly nodded her head and Helena smiled sweetly back at her.
It wasn't until they had left the hotel room, eaten lunch, worked on the case, and wandered into a park that Myka finally felt comfortable enough to tell Helena what had happened to make her break down the way she did.
They had just taken a short walk around the tiny park, when Myka, suddenly overcome with nostalgia and childlike wonder, ran over to the swing set. Helena smiled after her and then followed at a slower pace. The two swung in silence for a while, before the police detective managed to build up the courage to tell her story.
"His name was Sam," she started, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and continued. "He and I were partners, back when I first joined the force. We...we got along really well. Well enough that eventually, we fell in love."
There was silence as Myka tried to find the right words. Helena watched her intently, eyes filled with compassion and sorrow.
"We got a call one day. A robbery at a local bank. We were the first on the scene, and backup was five minutes away. I...I told him to wait...I told him we couldn't go in by ourselves. But..." Myka could feel hot tears roll down her cheeks. "We heard a baby crying inside. And a woman yelling. And..."
"Take your time," Helena said softly as her companion took some calming breaths. After a few moments, she straightened up a bit, her face turning cold and emotionless, her eyes glinting anger and pain.
"He was shot three times in the chest. Dead before backup even had a chance to get there."
Sometimes, a person grieving needs space. Space to cry, space to punch a wall, space to curse at God, space to find themselves again. And other times, they just need to be held.
Helena got off her swing, walked over to a now crying Myka, and pulled her into a tight embrace. They stood that way for a while, the police detective sobbing silently while the PI ran her fingers through her curls, quietly telling her that it would all be better soon. That it was ok to cry. That time heals all wounds. That she was, and always would be, there for her.
When Myka managed to pull herself together, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and chuckled sarcastically.
"God, I probably look hideous right now..."
"Darling, you look beautiful," Helena cut in softly, reaching out a hand to help wipe the tears away. Myka wanted to ask why she was being so nice. Why she even cared at all. She wanted to know what was going on in that brilliant mind, but she couldn't bring herself to ask because she was afraid of the answer.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her pocket, completely derailing her train of thought. She pulled it out and answered it.
"Hello?...Oh my God, Pete, slow down!"
