The final part. Helena confronts Myka, and they finally talk to one another. Thank you all so much for reading.
Helena walked up the B&B stairs to Myka's room, a wad of paper in her hands, wondering how she was going to broach the subject of their (currently non-existent) relationship with Myka. One thing was certain; she was not going to allow Myka to dismiss her, to dismiss the possibility of them, as easily as she had done a few days earlier. What was between them – what could be between them – was too important.
She knocked on Myka's door with more confidence than she was feeling. She was surprised when Myka answered the door wearing a soft pair of pyjamas. She was wearing her glasses and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes looked red-rimmed and her pale skin was blotchy.
"Myka? Are you all right?" Helena asked, concerned.
"I'm fine, Helena. Please, come in," Myka said in a subdued tone. It was, however, more welcoming than any Helena had heard from her in some time. She followed Myka into the room, closing the door behind her and holding her papers to her chest anxiously.
Myka sat sideways on the bed, one foot hanging over the edge and touching the floor, the other tucked up underneath her. She didn't say anything, staring at the bedspread.
"Are you sure you're okay, Myka?" Helena asked, despite herself. She had come up here to demand Myka talk to her, not to coddle her. But she looked so lost, and Helena couldn't help herself.
"I'm fine," Myka repeated, but her eyes were still on the bedspread, and Helena went to sit next to her without conscious thought, taking Myka's hand in hers.
"What is it, Myka?" she asked softly, abandoning her research on the bed and tilting Myka's chin up so that she was forced to meet Helena's eyes.
Myka was crying. She stared at Helena for a moment with tear-filled eyes before throwing herself forward into Helena's arms, sobbing. Helena was startled, but tightened her arms around Myka, rubbing her back softly.
"It's okay, Myka. Whatever it is, we'll work it out, don't worry. Don't cry, darling."
They sat there for a long time, Myka crying and Helena comforting her as best she could without knowing what was wrong. After some considerable time, Myka calmed down, her body settling from the sobs that had sounded painful as they were torn from her throat. Helena kept up her ministrations, rubbing Myka's back soothingly and trying not to notice how well their bodies fit together. Myka's breathing settled back to normal eventually and she drew back, apologising.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… Was there something you wanted to talk about?" she said, indicating Helena's research.
"It's nothing important, darling. What's happened, Myka? Did Artie say something to upset you? Because I can speak to him. He will not upset you again," Helena said darkly.
Myka let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob.
"No, he didn't upset me. He showed me something. It was Mrs Frederic's idea, apparently."
Helena lifted a hand, cupping Myka's jaw delicately.
"And what did he show you that upset you this much? I have never seen you cry this way, Myka. Please. Talk to me."
Myka took a deep breath, leaning into Helena's hand on her face for a moment, her eyes closing.
"I… he showed me part of the day that he erased with the Astrolabe. He showed me the explosion that destroyed the Warehouse."
Helena's breath caught.
"How?"
"Horace Westlake Frink's Bronze Baby Shoes," Myka said, sniffling a little. Helena handed her a handkerchief from the pocket of her waistcoat absently.
"I hadn't thought of that. I imagine it must have been overwhelming to witness," Helena said, her tone bland. She removed her hand from Myka's face, running it through her own hair distractedly.
Myka laughed, a little bitterly. "You could say that."
Helena took a breath and looked up at Myka.
"I gather you saw my death," Helena said, her voice expressionless. Myka nodded.
"And it upset you this much?"
"Of course!" Myka said indignantly.
"You will forgive my surprise, I'm sure, Myka. As it has seemed for rather a long time that you were indifferent to my continued existence."
Helena looked away, carefully studying the pictures on Myka's dresser.
"I'm not indifferent, Helena. I just… I didn't want to get hurt again."
Helena nodded stiffly. She had come here to change Myka's mind, to show her that their relationship meant something, that they were worth saving. But clearly Myka had made her mind up.
"Perfectly understandable. Well, I'm sorry to have disturbed you this evening. I hope you feel better," Helena said tonelessly, standing up and collecting her research without looking at Myka. She went to the door and was gone from the room before Myka could react. When she reached her own room she dropped the research on her desk and stood by the window, giving in to her own tears. It was time she gave up on Myka. She had clearly damaged their relationship irretrievably by hiding away in Boone and while it was possible that they might be friends again one day, it did not appear as if there would ever be anything more between them.
The door opened behind her and she didn't notice, lost as she was in her own thoughts, her regret and pain. She was, therefore, startled when Myka pushed her hair away from her neck, leaning forward to kiss her neck and shoulders where her collar was slightly open at the top. Myka's hands found hers, which were screwed into fists at her sides, and gently eased them open, lacing their fingers together. Helena's breath caught in her throat. Myka's body was warm and strong, and her mouth was delicate and soft against Helena's neck. She wanted nothing more than to sink back into Myka, to turn and kiss her, to be lost in Myka's arms. But only moments before she had told herself to let this go, to forget Myka Bering. Her jaw tightened.
"I'm sorry, Helena," Myka murmured, kissing the side of her neck, making Helena shiver. "I don't want to get hurt again. But I can't fight this anymore. I don't even want to try. You died for me. You looked me in the eye and you smiled at me and thanked me for letting you die for me. I can't lose you again." She slid her hands up the outsides of Helena's arms, her fingers leaving a line of goosebumps in their wake, and turned Helena gently to face her.
"I love you," she said, holding Helena's gaze. Helena swallowed, unsure of what to say or do in the face of this unexpected declaration. Myka saved her from making any sort of decision, however, by drawing her into a kiss. Myka's mouth was hot and insistent on hers and her hands were cupping Helena's face gently. Helena found herself quite unable to resist, despite her thoughts of just a moment ago. After a short while, Myka drew back, looking at Helena with both pain and adoration in her gaze.
"I'm not indifferent, Helena. I love you. I've just been scared, and I've been hiding. I thought if I could just stay with Pete, I could be content and that would be enough."
She kissed Helena again, slow and deep, and Helena was once again unable to resist reciprocating. Her previously well-organised thoughts and arguments were fleeing under the onslaught of Myka's lips and tongue. And her teeth. Oh God, her teeth.
"What happened between us when we were in there, with the artefact – it frightened me, Helena. Because I've never felt that kind of connection with anyone before. The thought of having that with you and then losing you again – it terrified me. It terrifies me. I can't lose you again, Helena. Watching you – watching you die - it was one of the worst things I've ever seen. I can't do that again. I can't lose you."
Helena stared. It was one thing to have a plan to demand from Myka that she be truthful about her feelings, but quite another to have Myka come to her, to be kissed this way. It was making her head spin and she was quite lost for words. To her own surprise, she began to cry, first silently, and then small sobs escaped her as she stared at Myka.
"What's wrong? Should I not have kissed you?" Myka said, staring at her in confusion.
"No, it's…" Helena took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears. She was unsuccessful. After a moment, Myka gathered Helena into her arms, kissing her hair and murmuring nonsense.
After a few moments Helena drew back, searching her pockets and coming up with her spare handkerchief, which she used to wipe her nose and eyes.
"What is it, Helena?" Myka asked, taking both of Helena's hands in hers.
"I… you told me you loved me, Myka, when we were in the artefact dream. And then a few hours later you told me it was all a mistake. I don't think I can take it again, Myka. You kissing me – it's wonderful, but I don't want to get used to it," Helena said, looking at their joined hands.
Myka looked guilt stricken.
"I'm sorry, Helena. I am so sorry that I was so afraid. I meant it then, and I mean it now. I love you. You mean everything to me, and I've been running away from that for far too long. We can go as fast or as slow as you like, honey. But I think it's time we gave this a real try," Myka said, tilting Helena's head up so that she would meet her gaze. Helena looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded, biting her lip.
"I'm sorry – I interrupted you, before. What did you want to speak to me about?" Myka asked, tilting her head curiously as she ran a finger across Helena's jaw reverently.
"Well, the point would now appear to be moot, but you were acting as if what happened between us in Scotland didn't matter. So I was searching for some information, some sort of proof to persuade you that it did. It appears that I need not have bothered, since Artie and Mrs Frederic seem to have interfered in a rather timely manner," Helena said, flushing slightly.
"And what did you find?" Myka prompted gently.
"I found… that the artefact gives a person their heart's desire, or at least one of them. So I was somewhat reassured that, by giving you the dream it did, it was giving you something you desired more than, or at least as much as, anything else." Helena realised she was rambling and stopped for a moment to take a breath before continuing. "I was going to confront you and try to break through that damnably blank mask you've perfected, to make you see that I matter, that we matter," she said, somewhat bitterly.
Myka flushed. Her face was anything but blank now. Shame was painted across her features.
"I'm sorry, Helena. It was the only way I knew to survive, with you so close all the time. You hurt me so badly. I'm not saying that I haven't behaved badly; I know I have. But you… well, seeing you in Boone, with that guy and his kid – I don't think I'll ever forget it. It was one of the worst moments of my life, and I have a lot of really shitty moments to compare it to, so I know what I'm talking about. I thought – after Giselle – that I would never see you again." She moved to sit on the bed, scooting backwards so that her back was against the wall. She sighed.
"I didn't want to see you again. After everything, I thought I was done – I thought that we were done. But then you came back and I just didn't know how to be near you. So I pulled away. Being with Pete was easy and I am so ashamed of myself, because I used that – I used him, so that I could hide from you. It didn't work, clearly, because here we are. I can't lose you again, Helena," she said, the sincere love in her gaze making Helena's breath catch in her throat.
Helena took a deep breath, trying to take in the implications of Myka's words.
"Are you sure about this, Myka? Because I believe I need you to be sure. After Lockerbie, I need to know that I won't wake up tomorrow to that other Myka," she said, her lips trembling as she tried to maintain her composure.
"Come here, Helena," Myka said. Helena went to her, unsure of what to expect. She sat next to Myka, settling herself gingerly. As she did so, Myka took her hand, running her thumb across Helena's knuckles.
"I am here, and I'll be here tomorrow. I've spent enough time running from you, Helena. This job is dangerous, and I've wasted enough time running from the inevitable," Myka murmured, her face close to Helena's, her breath hot on Helena's cheek. She leaned a little and kissed Helena. Helena lost herself in Myka's touch, in the overwhelming depth of her own feelings for Myka.
"I love you, Helena," Myka said, in between kisses, and that was enough for Helena. She gave in and stopped thinking, stopped worrying. She lost herself in kissing Myka, in the physical sensation of Myka's mouth, hot on hers, and Myka's fingers first in her hair and then trailing along her neck and jaw.
After a while Helena drew back, with some difficulty, to collect her thoughts and to try to make sense of the events of the day. Myka watched her carefully as she ran a hand through her hair, lost in thought.
"Can you tell me, Myka, why it is that Pete broke up with you? Claudia wouldn't tell me," she asked, trying to put the pieces in place, because despite her body's reaction to Myka, she still was not comfortable that matters were resolved enough for them to move on, to begin anything together in the shadow of Myka's relationship with Pete.
Myka looked at her for a moment before dropping her eyes to her own lap.
"He said that he'd realised that I was still in love with you. That I didn't love him the way he loved me."
"And is that true?" Helena asked softly.
"Yes," Myka said, without looking up. "He looked at me like I'd broken his heart, Helena. I guess I did. I used him so I could feel safe. I can't believe I drove him away from the Warehouse," she said in a whisper.
Helena sighed, half in sorrow for what Pete must be going through, and half in relief.
"It will take time, but he will forgive you, Myka. He must have known, deep down. His vibes, as he calls them. They must have told him that you were not truly meant for one another."
Myka's eyes widened.
"You know, I hadn't even thought of that." But then her shoulders slumped. "It doesn't make any difference, though, does it? I still did it, with full knowledge of how much it would hurt him if he knew that I didn't feel the same."
Helena shrugged.
"I understand that, my darling. I simply wanted to point out that you were not the only one practising a deceit upon the other. He is intuitive and I doubt very much that he was entirely unaware that your feelings for him were different to his for you. And I believe that he will meet someone who truly fits him. But Pete Lattimer, wonderful though he is, was never a good match for you, Myka. You deserve someone who appreciates how unique and wonderful your mind truly is."
She kissed Myka's hand gently. Myka shivered slightly, watching Helena with eyes heavy from tiredness and the many tears she had shed over the past few days.
"I bear a lot of responsibility for this, Myka. Had I not been so cruel in Wisconsin, you would never have mistaken your friendship with Peter for something else."
Myka closed her eyes.
"Would you mind…? I still don't think I really understand, why you went there, why you stayed there."
Helena dropped her gaze to her own hands, now joined in her lap.
"It is hard to explain. It is hard even for me to understand, I'm afraid. You know that I was tasked by Mrs Frederic to take the Astrolabe and disappear?" At Myka's nod, she continued. "I stayed on the move for weeks. I eventually decided that it was no more risky to stay put somewhere anonymous than it was to keep moving. I thought briefly about Wyoming and Emily Lake, but at the time I didn't know what this evil was, and it could have been Claudia – it could even have been you. And you all knew where Emily Lake had lived and worked. I was starting to feel like I was back in Bronze, Myka. I was so isolated. So I stopped at the first large settlement I found. Boone. I had money from Mrs Frederic, but I was bored and I was lonely, so I decided to find a job. As I told you at the time, I learned the basics of forensics from CSI and its like on television, but I did study a lot to ensure that I was doing a good job. I decided to take a cookery class because I thought it was ridiculous that I was unable to make anything more complex than scrambled eggs at my age. I met Nate and Adelaide and I let myself live in a fantasy."
Myka took in a sharp breath when she said Nate's name.
"You were right, you know, when you said I was chasing a ghost. I was trying to be happy, Myka, after all the horror that the Warehouse – well, the Regents, really - had inflicted upon me. I was so happy when Christina was alive, it made sense when Adelaide came along to try to recapture that happiness."
Myka smiled at her gently, but her eyes were still sad.
"I began my relationship with Nate because of Adelaide. She is an exceptional child, as I am sure you noticed. He was not exceptional, but he was pleasant and caring and when I was with him things felt…predictable. Not perhaps the most thrilling description, but after losing Christina and almost killing you in the Regent Sanctum, predictable felt good. I let myself settle there with them. Mrs Frederic called me and told me about Leena, about Arthur. I was told to return the Astrolabe to the Brotherhood, which I did, dutifully. And then Mrs Frederic asked me what I wanted to do. I had her permission to return then, Myka. And I did not. I…Pete would say that I chickened out. I thought of seeing you, and the guilt of everything I'd done before choked me. The weight of being HG Wells, homicidal maniac – it felt crushing. And everything in Boone was simple and safe and effortless."
She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and she put her head in her hands.
"When I called you, Myka…I didn't want to. I'm sure that was obvious. I was…I was cold, I was distant. I was trying to push you away. I kept seeing your face – the way you trusted me as that blade came closer and closer to your head in that chess lock… I thought that if you were away from me, you would be safer. Because since I arrived here in this time I have brought you nothing but pain. I convinced myself that I was helping you, that by pretending that you meant nothing to me I was protecting you from any future pain I might cause you."
Myka was staring at her incredulously.
"You…you really believed that? Or was that just what you were telling yourself? I don't understand, Helena. Because you saved me, that day. Without you I would have died. You solved the puzzle, Helena. Without you I would have just been another body rotting in that Sanctum. And… Jesus, Helena. I know you have caused me pain. Yellowstone was no picnic. But you changed me, Helena. You brought me alive, in ways I didn't expect or want or imagine. But I have never felt anything remotely like what I feel when you're near me. Like part of me never stopped flying after you saved me with that grappler."
Helena stared at her, eyes filling with tears once again.
"You have always had the soul of a poet, Myka," she murmured, staring unashamedly.
They stared at one another for a moment. Myka smiled and Helena continued.
"I convinced myself that I was doing it for you. And in part I believe I really was, Myka. Because since Christina I cannot help but feel that I am destined to lose the ones that matter most to me. In any case, I stubbornly pushed you away in Boone. Do you remember what I said to you in those woods before Pete tried to destroy the Janus coin?"
Myka nodded.
"You know me better than anyone else, but I know you, too. I knew exactly what to say to you to push you away, but it wasn't true, Myka. I hope you know that. I…have never felt this way, about anyone. I have never been happier than when I am with you."
She paused for a moment, sighing.
"I don't even know how to apologise for what I said. It seems insurmountable, in a way. But I am so, so deeply sorry, Myka. When you left Boone, I tried to forget you, I really did. I wasn't doing a great job, however. Nate tried to accept the new me, but I suspect he was a little too ordinary to easily accept the reality of artefacts. I never did tell him who I really am. Our relationship never returned to its former state. The final nail in the coffin was your text message."
Myka breathed in sharply.
"I…I'd almost forgotten that. I thought I was dying, and I wanted to let you go. I wasn't even sure it had sent."
"Well, it certainly did. I didn't know what to make of it, and I decided to ignore it, in yet another extremely cowardly act. But after that I couldn't pretend any more. I left Nate and Adelaide and I moved on to New York. I met Giselle, who worked in the same lab, and we had an affair – a few months – and then that, too, ended. My heart wasn't in it. My heart wasn't there; it was here. Where I'd left it."
She looked up and met Myka's eyes for a moment.
"So I suppose the question is – can you forgive me? Of all the things I have done in my life, Myka, what I did to you that day in Boone was perhaps the cruellest and the lowest. I didn't even dare to hope that you might forgive me."
Myka rolled her eyes ostentatiously and smiled.
"I have already forgiven you, Helena. I just…I needed to know why. I didn't understand why you were such an asshole to me that day, and I didn't understand why you didn't come back after what happened between us. Because when we kissed - I have never felt like that before, not with anyone."
Helena smiled tentatively.
"So, does that mean you do understand? I am not sure I do, myself."
Myka smiled, a little sadly this time.
"Not entirely, Helena. I don't understand why you did things that way. You hurt me, a lot. But it's the past, and we have a chance, a real chance, to be together. I don't want to waste it. So while I can't forget it," she tapped her head with a wry smile, "I can forgive you. As long as you promise not to run out on me again. Because I don't think I could take it again, Helena."
Her face was bleak, and Helena's heart twisted at the pain she had caused.
"I promise, Myka," she said, meaning it with her whole heart. "I promise that I will not leave you again."
Myka smiled, something in her demeanour lightening at Helena's words. Helena smiled back at her hesitantly, and she felt some of the weight that had been pulling her down lift away.
"So," she said, "I hope you will not take it amiss if I ask you to stay here, tonight. I am not proposing anything other than sleep. I would like it very much, however, if we could sleep next to one another for the first time. I have missed you so dreadfully, Myka."
Myka smiled at her, nodding. They did not speak much more that evening, but Helena felt the pressure in her chest ease when they went to bed and Myka wrapped her long body around Helena's, kissing the side of her neck before wishing her a good night.
Helena held Rebecca's hand, stroking the older agent's knuckles with the pad of her thumb as she felt the pulse under her fingertips weaken and then cease.
"Is she gone?" came Myka's quiet voice from behind her as she gently placed Rebecca's hand on the arm of the chair.
Helena turned, trying to fight back tears.
"Yes," she managed, trying desperately to keep herself together. This day – it had all been too much. Talking with Claudia about Christina's death, Arthur holding her at gunpoint, Myka almost dying - Rebecca gladly going to her death just to have one more moment in which she was truly happy. For a moment, Helena had truly envied the dying woman.
She turned quickly as the Time Machine began to spark behind her, and hurriedly flipped the switches to end the flow of power to her ailing invention. She stayed there for a moment, hiding behind a curtain of hair, her head bowed. She didn't want Myka to see her like this – weak, broken. She started as a hand touched her shoulder gently.
"It's okay, Helena. You would have to be dead on the inside not to feel anything. And what you did for Rebecca – I think it was wonderful. She got to be with Jack for her last moments. I don't think any of us could ask for more than to be with the person we love as we leave this world."
Helena tried to hold it in, but a sob escaped her, and then another. Myka turned Helena gently to face her and pulled her close, holding her tightly and rubbing her back slowly, soothing her as she cried. It was the first time Helena had ever felt really safe in another's arms. It was also the moment when she realised that she was in love with Myka Bering. But it was too late. The emails had already been sent; the boys were already on their way to Warehouse 2. She had no way to contact them now. It was too late, and she was damned, no matter what she did. The knowledge tore at her, and she sobbed even harder, with Myka whispering soft words of comfort in her ear. She loved Myka. What should have been a joyous revelation was instead bitter; bitter in the face of her plans, her betrayal.
"It's okay, Helena. I'm here," Myka whispered, holding Helena tightly in her arms. Helena fought the confinement for a moment before realising where she was.
"You were crying in your sleep," Myka said in a drowsy, concerned murmur. Helena relaxed and turned her body slightly to slip her arm around Myka.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I was having a bad dream."
"What about?" Myka asked in concern.
"I…well, it was before Yellowstone. The night when Rebecca asked to use the Time Machine."
Myka pulled back a little to look at Helena carefully.
"I get why that might have made you a little sad. Crying in your sleep though? Why?"
"You held me, that night. Do you remember? It was the first time we had really touched at all, since Tamalpais and the grappler. I was crying, after all the madness of that day. Artie held me at gunpoint, you nearly died, and then Rebecca passed away – it was all too much. And when you held me, I realised."
"Realised what?" Myka asked, her eyes wide with concern.
"I realised that I was falling in love with you. And that it was too late to stop what I'd started."
"You mean Warehouse 2?"
"Yes," Helena said, her eyes dropping from Myka's in shame.
"Hey," Myka said, sharply, lifting Helena's chin with one finger. "Don't do that. I told you before. You're not the bad guy, Helena. You were sick. You were hurting. None of us saw it, and we should have. If it wasn't for me being so blinded by my stupid hero worship, and then my feelings for you, I might have realised. I might have seen that you needed help. If Artie hadn't been such an ass, he would have realised what the Bronze did to you. We all made mistakes, Helena. You have more than made up for yours. So stop with all this guilt, okay? I'm not saying I want you to do it again, but just…just put it behind you, okay? Behind us. Because we're here now, we're together. Let yourself be happy, okay? I love you."
Helena stared for a moment, open-mouthed, and then her lips curled into a pleased smile.
"Righty-ho then," she said, smiling so widely that she felt her cheeks begin to hurt.
Myka chuckled.
"I knew you were going to say that," she said, smiling softly.
Helena kissed her. It was meant to be a simple, chaste acknowledgement of how much Myka's words meant to her, but intentions were soon shredded and thrown to the wind because Myka was responding so enthusiastically, so beautifully, that Helena was lost. One of her regrets about the time they had spent together in the dream was that she had not been afforded the opportunity to make love to Myka, to witness Myka coming apart beneath her. There was nothing now between them except thin pyjamas and their own reservations, whatever they might be. But soon none of those things were between them, Helena's reservations having disappeared at around the same time as Myka's clothing. There was one moment when she almost drew back, when the memory of Myka with Pete intruded, and Helena faltered. But Myka looked down at her, her eyes clear and bright and filled with a mixture of love and intense joy, and Helena's thoughts cleared as she herself was filled with the same joy. Whatever had happened to bring them here, it was over now. This was all that mattered. And Myka – Myka with her head thrown back, panting Helena's name – Myka was worth the pain. Was worth any pain.
Afterwards, when they had both caught their breath and were firmly wrapped around each other, sweaty but happy, bathing in the afterglow, Helena felt the figurative weight of all that had come between them lift, allowing her to catch her breath.
"I love you, you know," she murmured, and Myka placed a careful kiss on her forehead before answering.
"I do know. And I hope that you know how much I love you. How much I have always loved you, even when I was trying my hardest not to love you at all. Especially then," she said, running her fingers through Helena's hair, playing with the strands while searching Helena's eyes.
"I do. I know," Helena murmured, and Myka leaned a little to kiss her. They fell asleep like that, Myka's hand tangled in Helena's hair, and their lips almost touching. Helena's last thought before she slept was that she felt something like peace. Here with Myka, she had found her tether, finally.
Myka woke up in Helena's arms, staring at her incredibly black eyelashes against her incredibly pale skin, paler now than it had been even when she was Emily Lake, because she had spent all of her time since she returned either in the Warehouse or inside the B&B, awake until the early hours of the morning writing or inventing. They were lying face to face, and Helena's hair was, for once, in complete disarray. Myka smiled at the sight. She'd never seen Helena this way, completely vulnerable, her features slack and relaxed in sleep. She was breathing evenly and deeply, her arm heavy on Myka's waist.
The last 24 hours had been a complete surprise to Myka. She had decided, after what happened inside the dream-state induced by the Pied Piper artefact, that despite how intense her feelings for Helena still were, she wasn't going to go there. No way. Helena had hurt her enough already, and this whole thing had imploded her relationship with Pete. She couldn't really pretend that she was upset about Pete breaking up with her. She was incredibly upset and guilty that she had hurt Pete the way she had, but as for feeling rejected or sad that they were no longer a couple? No. She was relieved. So, so relieved. She loved Pete, but after she'd made love to Helena in the dream, after the way it had felt to be with her, she knew that she could never ever sleep with Pete again. What she and Pete had was pretty good, where the sex part was concerned. But after the way she felt when she was with Helena – and that was without Helena even touching her – she couldn't pretend any more. Being with Helena had felt right in a way that she couldn't articulate, but that she knew she had never felt with Pete. She and Pete were best friends. They should never have been lovers. She should never have allowed it. She blamed Steve and that stupid table with its stupid defining moment. Her defining moment was nothing to do with ninja lesbian suburban housewife cat burglars. Her defining moment was – and would remain – the moment when Helena had swept her off her feet using her grappler. Thinking about that day still made her stomach tighten and her heart race. She had deliberately pushed that memory away, that day at the round table, because she didn't want to think about Helena – it was too soon after her finding out about Giselle. She had spoken to Mrs Frederic about it afterwards, in a roundabout sort of way, and Mrs F had confirmed that the Table responded in some way to the wishes of the agent – a bit like the sorting hat in Harry Potter – so that was why she had seen the cat burglars instead of the grappler. In any case, she had decided after Scotland that she and Helena were never happening, could never happen, because her feelings were so strong that she didn't think she would survive if it all went sideways. Better to avoid it, to avoid Helena, until the heat between them dissipated. Because that was sure to happen, she told herself, even though it had already been years and the heat had never cooled, even through the agonies of betrayal and Yellowstone and Boone and Giselle and alternate timelines that nobody even told her about until it was far too late to do anything. The heat was still there, the edge was on, her breath still caught when she saw Helena. She'd managed to successfully school her expression into a flat, neutral mask, but she'd only been able to do that by channelling her hurt and pain into anger, a cold anger that she used to push Helena as far away as she could manage when they lived in the same building.
Then Mrs Frederic and Artie had sucker-punched her with the stupid baby shoes and the minute she'd seen what had happened in that alternate timeline, she was sunk. Lost. Defeated. There was no way she could turn Helena away; no way she could tell Helena that she didn't want her. Because Helena was all she wanted. Helena knocked on her door, and that was it.
When Myka was 12 years old, her fencing coach entered her into a local competition. She won the first two rounds without a problem, but the third guy was twice her size. She twisted to avoid a lunge and he knocked her over accidentally, bowling her over in such a way that she almost landed on her head. She dislocated her shoulder and broke two fingers. The fingers she could handle. They were strapped up and although it hurt, it was at least on her left hand so she could still write. The shoulder, however, was painful for weeks as the abused joint slowly healed from having her arm wrenched out, then wrenched back into place. More than that, however, it just felt wrong. When they reduced it (as they insisted on saying, when even at 12 she knew it was just a fancy way of saying they were going to snap it back into place) it felt like part of her had been removed, then put back wrong. That was how it had felt for a long time, after Helena had returned. Now Myka felt like all those raw and tender places inside her chest were finally healing. She'd resisted so hard, tried so hard not to let Helena in. All she'd succeeded in doing was breaking Pete's heart. Claudia was sure that Pete would come back – she'd had one of her freaky Caretaker moments, when it looked like Mrs Frederic was peering out from behind her eyes – and she said, with certainty, that he would be back. The Warehouse wanted him. Myka swore to herself, as she lay in bed taking in every detail of Helena's sleeping face, that she would make up for what she'd done to Pete, somehow. She would watch a million Star Trek Wars movies if it made him happy. She would read all the comic books in the world if it made things better. She would make him pancakes every day. She was still mentally listing things she would do to make it better when Helena's eyes fluttered open.
"Hey," she whispered, smiling.
"Hey yourself," Helena said, her voice thick from sleep. Her smile was like the sun rising. Myka's breath caught at the sight of it, a sudden memory of Helena mouthing "Thank you," grasping at her heart and squeezing.
"I had no chance, did I?" she murmured, before moving forward to kiss Helena.
"What?" Helena asked, but Myka just kissed her again, losing herself in the texture of Helena's hair against her fingers and the taste of her mouth. She tasted the pearl in Helena's right ear, bit her earlobe sharply and made her gasp. They stayed in bed for hours, just exploring one another, and when hunger drove them to, they showered and went downstairs to find some breakfast.
"Good morning, ladies," Abigail said as they walked into the kitchen, carefully not touching.
"Morning," they both said, nodding. Claudia came into the kitchen behind them.
"Way to go, guys," the Caretaker-to-be said, smirking. She offered Helena a fist bump that she returned limply, bemused.
"What do you mean?" Myka asked, alarmed.
"I mean, way to go rocking the old bedroom rodeo all night!" Claudia said, stuffing a pancake into her mouth and chasing it with syrup directly from the bottle. Abigail snatched the bottle from her with a scowl.
Helena smiled. Claudia was not subtle, but she was endearing. Myka paled, and then blushed extremely prettily.
"I… uh - I mean…" Myka trailed off, coughing and blushing.
Abigail laughed.
"The walls are really thin, Myka. For what it's worth, we're all really happy for you," Abigail said, smiling.
Helena smiled, murmuring, "Thank you," and slipping her arm around Myka's waist, kissing her cheek. Myka blushed again and nodded, once, before going to find herself some coffee.
They ate breakfast quietly, occasionally smiling at one another softly, and then they took their tea and coffee out to the porch. As they sat overlooking the garden, sipping their drinks, Helena took Myka's hand absently. Myka started slightly at the sensation, and then remembered that they could do this, now. That it was okay to feel like this, to admit that she felt this way. She could hold Helena's hand, or touch her, or kiss her. A few short weeks ago she hadn't even been talking to Helena if she could help it. Now they could touch one another, could kiss one another – could make love to one another. It was a heady freedom, and as Myka focused on the small details – the small callouses on Helena's palm, her soft skin, and the warmth of her hand in Myka's - something liquid and soft, like warm honey, settled in Myka's chest, and her lips curved up in a smile.
"I love you, Helena," she murmured.
"And I love you, Myka Bering," Helena said, bringing Myka's hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles softly. The sun warmed Myka's face and she smiled, watching Helena's lips turn up in an answering smile. Myka closed her eyes for a moment and realised that for the first time since Helena had disappeared after Sykes, she felt content. She felt sure, sure that this was the right thing, the right person, the right time. Even though Pete wasn't here, (and she felt his absence keenly) she was content, she was happy. She wasn't assuming that this relationship would last forever, but however long it did last, she would be grateful for it, grateful for Helena. Because this love, this feeling, it was worth all the pain they'd been through. Helena was a complicated part of her past, but she was now irrevocably part of Myka's future. She was perhaps the most important part of that future. But for now, Myka would take this feeling, this love, and savour every small moment of sun on her face and the warmth of Helena's hand in hers, because a Warehouse Agent never knew when they would run out of tomorrows.
