The award-winning engineer knows somewhere in the recesses of that brilliant mind of hers that 'this', 'this' is not simply an infatuation. This relationship is not like anything she has previously experienced. What she wants from it, if she would give voice to the want of it, is something more than she has ever desired. Somewhere in 'this', Helena knows is everything.

However.

What she will admit to herself is somehow miles from the truth of the matter. Miles and miles. And that distance, if she would allow herself the necessary luxury of really thinking about it, is born of fear. As it is, she does not. As it is, she uses that paltry word, infatuation, as a shield to protect herself from the frightening truth. Somewhere just behind the lids of her dark eyes, somewhere hovering between parted lips, in the left corner of her heart, in the nearness of two bodies not quite touching, somewhere there Helena knows she is irrevocably in love.

She scarcely allows herself to admit how ridiculously jealous she is becoming. Menton for instance. What should have been the sweetness of days spent languidly basking on the shore of the azure sea had become the sweetness of a particular brand of torture, and Helena was no masochist by nature. She had been counting them at first, the knifelike pangs that assaulted her whenever they occured, for whatever reason they occurred. And really, reason had nothing to do with anything. She was being supremely irrational. Like when Charles would share some tidbit of local history while standing too close to Myka in that way of his and her face would animate with interest. When waiters would hover a little too long, a little too close, pass by a little too often. She was even jealous of melting vanilla icecream being captured by Myka's deft tongue as it trickled down the cone.

She stopped counting after a particular moment with her daughter. Christina was wrapped around Myka who was twirling her around in the pool and slow dancing to the music blaring from the speakers from the beach bar nearby. Her daughter still mesmerised by the woman's wet curls had been playing with them as they swirled around in the water together. She heard the conversation as the little girl's attention shifted elsewhere. "I really like these." Christina's hands were innocently grabbing at Myka's bust. The woman burst out laughing before replying, "Is that right?" The girl nodded. "They're pretty." Myka had just shook her head, kissed 'thank you' into the child's cheek and rocked and swayed to the music. "Myka?" The girl had latched on to a stray curl. "Yeah babygirl?"
"Can I marry you when I'm old?" She asked earnestly. Explaining, "Mummy says I can't marry her or Uncle Chars. Can I marry you?"
"You want to marry me?" Adoration for the little girl had lit up her face.
Christina nodded vigorously in affirmation.
"You are the cutest thing Christina Wells, do you know that?" They continued dancing and giggling together. Helena didn't hear the rest of their banter as Charles shouted something in her direction about drinks and did she want anything from the bar.

Yes, Helena needed to stop counting the pangs.

What she needed was to engage in a little deductive reasoning. She needed to tap into that part of her that absolutely knew what was really going on. And if there were enough self-awareness or will to admit such a truth she would know there was a moment within a moment in which this became irrepressible, unstoppable, eternal. And there was a moment within a moment following, that almost caused this truth to escape the confines of her mind in vivid colour.

The first takes place after Menton and after her return to Paris. It is the first moment in which some things are revealed and others are left unspoken. Helena had been summoned quite mysteriously back to London a couple days before the incident. A blue folder may or may not have been in play. Charles had quite graciously, if not entirely selflessly, postponed his return home to stay with Christina and Myka in the meantime. Helena had been simultaneously grateful and irritated with his gentlemanly pronouncement, "Not to worry Georgie. I'll keep a close eye on the ladies for you."

"I'm sure you will." She'd muttered under her breath just low enough to go unheard.

Had Charles been privy to the complete and utter havoc being wreaked in his sister's overactive mind he would have had grave grave doubts concerning her mental acuity. Charles had seen enough to know that he need not ever try his hand at winning the young woman's affections. Her affections were clearly otherwise engaged. He had closely observed his sister and the American, noting how a bubble of intimacy surrounded even their most mundane interactions. Even in silent moments together they spoke their own language. Adding Christina in the mix only solidified their unnamed bond further. The three of them orbited around each other in their own little universe in all its inherent chaos. Yes, Charles saw 'this' and it pleased him indeed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mummy!" The girl's beaming face filled the screen and lips attacked it. "Did you get my kiss?" More giggles. "Are you coming?" Dark brown eyes framed by black lashes, flashed across the screen, a rosy cheek, an ear, wavy black hair.

"Yes, Monkey. I'm coming back tonight." All she wanted to do was gather the little girl close to her and hold her tight.

"Yay!"

"I miss you." Helena sounded exhausted. She was impatient to be home again. Home. She'd never given much thought to it. But sipping her morning tea in her normally cozy drawing room without Christina chattering happily away curled into her side, without Myka's serene presence, the space felt uncharacteristically cold and empty. She had been in London for three harrowing days, and home was starting to feel very far away somehow.
"I've missed you so so much my love." She sighed into the tablet. Raven hair brushing the screen.

"I know." Wide innocent eyes stated matter-of-factly.

"Cheeky. You know?" Helena had to suppress a laugh in an attempt at mock-seriousness.

The girl nodded furiously.

"I know. We are all here. And you are there." Christina shrugged and threw both her hands up before being distracted by something.

"I can hear Quasimodo. Okay Goodbye Mummy!" Tiny rosebud lips mashed up against the screen again followed by a satisfied smirk and then a view of the ceiling. Helena then heard a door opening, her child squealing and a cat's meow.

"Christina?" She signed off and shook her head. Three year olds and their priorities. The smile that had lingered following her brief conversation with her daughter disappeared, replaced by frown lines that settled on her brow as she contemplated the day's schedule and the meetings that awaited her.

Helena's phone rang and the frown deepened.

TBC

NOTE: Sorry it's a little all over the place. Writing is torture for me. I so respect you long fic writers. Respect respect. Thanks for sticking with me!