Chapter 7: Myka


Myka thinks about it sometimes, how she and HG would stop dancing this intricate dance of uncertainty and insecurity and finally step into each other. She's been wanting to say something for a while now, but what if she's wrong? What if HG doesn't feel the same way? So it's been going on for far too long, these seemingly casual touches Myka lets land on HG the way they don't on any other team member, these looks she lets linger between HG and herself, trying to sound her out and making excuses every time she notices HG's gaze fixed on her lips.

If she's wrong, at least she had this titillating uncertainty.


They'd be in a car, driving somewhere. Somewhere across one those long-forsaken states with more desert than roads. They'd have been driving for a while, soft music on the radio and a comfortable silence between them broken by mundane yet profound conversation.

It would be a few hours after dark, HG would be yawning and Myka would find her concentration slipping, and the GPS wouldn't be able to find any towns under three hours away. Not even a gas station, and the temperature would be dropping. They would have been driving all day; they'd both be very tired and eventually they'd find a rest stop. They'd use the bathroom, and when Myka got back in the driver's seat she'd be surprised that HG wasn't already in the passenger seat. She'd be in the back seat flipping down the back rests.

"I think it might be wise to stop for the night. We've been on the road for most of the day, darling and I don't know about you but I'm exhausted."

Luckily they'd have taken the SUV with the bug out bag, which meant snacks, water, a kettle that plugged into the cigarette lighter for some coffee when they woke up and a sleeping bag.

One sleeping bag. HG's face would do that uncertain thing when she's caught unawares, like she had a moment of hope before her past came crashing down on her, making her feel inadequate and unsure.

"I'll be fine, you take it," HG would say. Myka wouldn't acknowledge her, would just unzip the sleeping bag before taking off her belt, shoes, badge. She'd leave her sidearms on though, HG would notice as she started removing her own uncomfortable clothing items. With the backrests down, the back seat is almost like a double bed, and Myka would lie down and spread half the sleeping bag over herself. When a few minutes had passed and HG hadn't laid down beside her, Myka would sit up and stare at the enigma of her colleague under the desert sky. HG would be sitting on the seat, one hand covering her locket and looking out the window.

"HG, you need to sleep too." Myka would say. HG would start at the sound of Myka's voice, turn to her with blank, unseeing eyes.

"I'm sorry," HG would say as she lay down next to Myka. Myka would know HG meant more than just not lying down so Myka could go to sleep, so she would take the bait.

"What for?" Myka would ask.

"Everything," HG would say in an empty voice, and she'd turn away from Myka who would have to let it lie. It'd be cold so Myka would turn to face HG and shuffle herself up as close to HG as she could, hesitant to rest a hand on her hip to keep her warm body close.


Several hours later, Myka would be made aware of movement as HG curled into her, buried her face in the space between her neck and her shoulder. She would be made very aware of the way HG's breath filtered across her throat, the cold nose under her chin goosepimpling the flesh there. She'd be very aware of the way HG's hand hesitated at her side before coming up to rest over her ribs. She'd be very careful to keep her breath steady so HG wouldn't spook and pull away. When HG's hand rubbed across her ribs, when HG's weight rested across her chest as HG rolled half onto her, Myka would have trouble keeping still. She'd make a breathy half-moan, tighten her grip on HG's hip and HG would freeze on top of her. Myka would make herself relax, force her heartbeat slower until HG seemed satisfied that she was still asleep at which point HG's face would burrow deeper, her lips would brush Myka's throat as her hand gently caressed Myka's ribs in a soothing way until HG fell still, slightly heavier in sleep. Myka would ponder the intimacy of the position; one of HG's breasts pressed firmly against one of hers, one leg between her own. If it was any of her colleagues other than HG rolling onto her in the night she would have pushed them off of her (Well, maybe not Claudia, because it is cold in the car and the girl rarely seeks out physical comfort of her own accord. Myka finds herself wanting to mother her sometimes, but settles for aunting her instead, tossing her a four pack of red bull and some skittles when she comes back from grocery shopping, buying her a vest that she wanted for herself but came in a size too small, ruffling her hair if she brings Myka a coffee), despite the lack of sexual connotation this embrace held. It's just... intimate, and this woman knows her better than anyone else, so it's not surprising the Myka feels no urge to shuffle away, it's not surprising that one hand, seemingly of its own accord, comes up to filter slowly through HG's hair.

This isn't sexy, Myka would tell herself. It's nice; it's comfortable and it's a lot warmer than when HG wasn't being her own personal blanket. Then HG would shift slightly and things would become all sorts of interesting before Myka could admit to herself that maybe it was a little sexy being able to feel HG's hard nipple press against her chest through her thin shirt.

It's not a violation; it's just something HG wouldn't do if she knew Myka was awake because HG still feels like she's not allowed to have nice things, like her self-sacrifice now makes up for her past. It's not something Myka would object to either; HG has always been tactile with her, and Myka has always been receptive to her touch. Myka would think about HG's lips on her throat and bring her other hand up from HG's hip onto her back, where she'd stroke her back, hold HG clumsily against herself, hoping HG could find some peace in dreamless sleep.


When Myka woke up she would be curled around the smaller form of the other agent from behind; she always was a snuggler. They must have slept for some time; the sun would be drifting over the horizon. HG would be stiffly awake in her arms and Myka wonders if this woman, this fragile shell of a woman had slept at all. If she was so haunted by her past that it won't let her sleep; the agent that died in the quest to save HG's daughter, the loss of her daughter, the way she tried to end the world. She would wonder briefly if the happy memories of Emily Lake still lived on in her, or if that poor, tragic, terribly frightened woman has peace in inexistence. Myka's thumb would have been, unbeknownst to Myka, running over HG's ribs.

HG would finally roll over to face her, eyes averted, and Myka would lean in to kiss her.

"I forgive you," Myka'd say, when she could finally pull away.

"What for?" HG would ask, stunned, tousled and beautiful in the radiant desert dawn.

"Everything," Myka would say, and kiss her again.


Myka shakes herself awake, puts her abandoned book on her bedside table and pads downstairs barefoot. She stares aimlessly out the window of the lounge, the lawn furniture alien in the dim light, looking up at a noise to see HG staring at her with such longing written on her face that it's almost painful to observe in the near-darkness. HG's hand goes to her chest, but does not grasp her locket.

Myka watches HG make tea in the familiar way she always makes the tea; warm the teapot first, then pour out the boiling water, then pour in the hot but not boiling water, then the leaves, then the lid. Exactly five minutes, then pour a dash of milk in the teacup, then the tea. Myka thinks tea tastes better when HG makes it for her, but she can't tell her that; HG is almost always entirely ego and bravado, unless they're alone. Then she's quiet and shy but still far too pleased with herself.

Myka sits beside HG on the sofa in the lounge. Several times she shifts closer to HG but she can't seem to close the distance the way she could in her daydream in the car. There's no excuse here, if she's wrong. And if she's wrong, she doesn't think she can stay at the Warehouse, looking at the woman who could have been her everything.

Neither woman asks what the other was doing awake at this time of night. Neither of them says a word. They let the stillness of the quiet house and the comfort of each other's company do the talking for them. If they said something, they might go beyond this gentle friendship, but they could also leave it in tatters behind them.

So they drink their tea, and Myka thinks this isn't sexy either, until she catches the way HG is watching her mouth.


Author's note: a few chapters to go.

Please, please let me know what you think of this.