At 3:30 in the morning, Myka silently and expertly hopped over the one squeaky stair on the staircase and deftly maneuvered her way into the kitchen.
She wasn't tired anymore.
And since that was the case, she figured she might as well do something productive. But first, coffee.
Ever since Leena…well, the coffee pickings certainly weren't what they used to be. Pete, bighearted though he was to do the grocery shopping every other week, the man, without fail, always returned home with seventy-five percent protein, fifteen percent carbonated beverages, five percent cookies, and five percent outstandingly bad coffee. And Pete had just done the shopping and restocked for the week.
No matter, Myka told herself. Because today, nothing could really go wrong. Nothing. As she replaced the paper filter in the coffee machine, she had a little tête-à-tête with the universe.
Myka didn't know why the cosmos had such an abnormally large stick up its ass (though, she supposed, that might have been the combined result of millennia of bearing witness to and repeatedly striking really bad deals with humanity and being forced to get creative every once in a while), and why it felt the need to periodically remove said stick and beat her over the head with it. She especially didn't understand why, when she even dared to, say, not succumb to the orchid's effects when she was eyeballs-deep in overwhelming sadness and the throes of loss, the cosmos decided that she was better off alone. But it was bargaining time now. She promptly took the stick and drew a proverbial line in the sand: You stay on your side, and I'll stay on mine. Because, dammit, it's been a year and a half. A year and a half, universe. So kindly take your little cosmic rulebook, fold it neatly into quarters and shove it so far up your ass that, not only can you not fit that stick back in there, you can also taste the perfume I'm taking the time to wear today because nothing, I repeat: nothing, is getting in the way of today.
"Whoa, dude, I know the coffee's bad, but are you gonna strangle it or drink it?" someone asked and Myka jumped in the semi-darkness of the kitchen.
She nearly chucked the bag of coffee in the direction of the bodiless voice, but Claudia stepped into a patch of moonlight, her face doubly illuminated by the screen of her laptop. She had her free hand up in defense.
"Geeze, Claudia, don't do that!" Myka hissed and turned away, expelling a pent-up breath. She flung the coffee bag onto the counter and brought a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.
Claudia stood still, watching. "Everything okay?"
Myka still didn't look at her, but nodded, dark curls bouncing. "Yeah. I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Nope," she replied quietly through a smile. "Mrs. Frederic has me on night duty. In fact, it might interest you to know, I've got HG on the radar over here."
Myka whipped her head around, eyes wide. "You…you do?"
"Yeah. But before I share with your Mrs. Frederic's little scheme, how about we switch out the nasty generic stuff and uh," Claudia bent down and opened a cabinet door, reaching in until her shoulder was against the cabinet, and withdrew a little bag, "make some real coffee."
Myka smiled. Your move, universe.
After Yellowstone, Helena spent the remainder of the night traveling to Univille and arrived shortly before sunrise. She tipped the overnight barista extra after ordering a steaming mug of tea. Seated in the corner booth she'd spied on months and months ago, she sipped the hot brew in silence as dawn broke on the horizon.
She was nearly home.
Helena nervously ran a hand through her hair. It was too late to turn back now. Besides, wasn't this what she'd been hoping for, exiling herself for, the past year and a half? A year and a half. Had it been that long? Oh, hell.
Helena knew Myka was an early riser. She withdrew the chronograph from her pocket and placed it on the table beside her cell phone, quietly ticking off the minutes until it the hands reached a semi-reasonable hour.
"Three…two…one," she finished softly.
She picked up the phone and dialed. She tossed back her raven-dark hair and pressed the phone to her ear.
Helena felt her throat run dry. What was she supposed to say, again? Myka, darling, it's been far too long. Take me back? She supposed she already had the accent going for her. Blimey, what the hell was she thinking? She sniffed her cup of tea, feeling suspicious.
The phone continued to ring and she swallowed hard once, twice, and worked her jaw when suddenly, the phone chimed loudly in her ear.
"Bloody—"
Helena yanked it away to see that a text message, which could only have originated from her one contact left in this world, had come through, and, on this poor excuse of a cell phone, accidentally dropped the call.
"Dammit," Helena swore and pressed a button to read the text.
Agent emergency. Meet at B&B ASAP.
Helena's stomach clenched and nearly expelled the tea she'd just spent the morning consuming.
Myka.
She shoved the phone and pocket watch into her jacket and left the coffeehouse at a run.
"Helloo?" Helena called out, sticking her head inside the bed and breakfast. No answer. She considered it was entirely possible Mrs. Frederic was simply waiting for the perfect moment to make herself noticed.
She proceeded to the stairs at the left. Her foot was on the first step when—
Clink!
Helena whipped her head around, fighting against that terribly human instinct to inhale sharply. Something had hit the floor in another room. Something metallic.
She assessed. No weapons. Just an abundance of defensive moves. But if what hit the floor in the other room was what she thought it was, then she was fresh out of luck unless she planned her next moves very carefully.
Lifting her foot silently off the stair, she rerouted and proceeded further into the house.
She stepped daintily, never allowing her full weight to rest on her feet. Hallway, clear. She breathed in silent, even intervals, though her heart insisted on hammering erratically in her chest. Dining room, clear.
Helena rounded the corner into the kitchen—
"Surpriiiiiise!"
Helena involuntarily jumped back and brought her arms up defensively over her face. In the spaces between her arms, she was shocked to see Pete, Steve, Claudia, and…Myka standing around a table in the nook of the kitchen. Colorful balloons bobbed and swayed in clusters, tied to chairs which were fancifully adorned with bows and streamers. What on earth—
She was clutching her chest recovering from the shock, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, when Pete spoke as he bent down to retrieve a fork off the floor.
"Aw man, she didn't scream."
Claudia elbowed him in the ribs. Helena's eyes widened a bit more when she saw Pete cough up a wad of money and begrudgingly stuff it into Claudia's outstretched hand.
"Maybe for you, she doesn't," Myka started, moving forward, flashing Pete a look, a devious glint in her eye. She turned back to meet Helena's gaze and smiled slightly. "And whatever you're getting, Claud, I get a third."
Steve chuckled lightly. "Ouch."
As Myka approached her, Helena took half a step backwards, still wearing a confused expression. "I don't understand. You're…But h-how…Mrs. Frederic said…but how did you—"
"Tracking device," Claudia said simply. "We knew you were coming."
"But…I was given a burner phone. It's untraceable, I thought that's why Mrs. Frederic—"
"—tagged you in Yellowstone," said Claudia. "Whoops."
Helena inclined her head, thinking. It took her half a minute before she realized precisely when Mrs. Frederic would have had such an opportunity. Helena was a little offended at herself. Sloppy work there, Agent Wells. She patted down the arms of her jacket and raised an eyebrow when her hand hit the bug, which was nestled in the underarm stitching, where the sleeve joined at the shoulder.
"Dammit," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. Anything to not look at Myka, who was miraculously okay, considering Helena had assumed that mere minutes ago, her nightmares were finally coming to life. Helena could feel the worry and tension etched into her expression and it was taking her a moment to iron it out of her features. She breathed again.
Myka was okay. And she was suddenly closer to Helena than she'd been since…since…
"Okay," she conceded, finally scanning the group and allowing her gaze to meet Myka's. Those eyes were so green, so…alive. "You're okay," she breathed, as the rims of her eyes pinked involuntarily.
"But why all the…" she indicated the balloons, streamers, and ooh, was that sticky toffee pudding? with a wave of her hand. "It's—"
"Uh, only your birthday, dude. I actually did my research, okay? Yesterday was technically HG's birthday," Pete interjected. "Right?"
Claudia nodded. "Yeah, you're like, what, 150 now?
"Honestly, she doesn't look a day over a hundred," Steve supplied.
Claudia held out her hand for a low-five, which Steve slapped.
Helena relaxed a little, finally taking a moment. She calculated it easily, surprised she had forgotten, but given recent events, was willing to overlook her momentary forgetfulness. "147, actually. But thank you. I was…not expecting this."
"Hey, well, you can thank Mrs. Frederic for thinking of it. I only checked the internet to make sure we had the date right," Pete said.
"The internet, Pete? That means you finally learned how to use the apps I downloaded for you. I'm so proud," Claudia teased.
Myka inclined her head, smile hesitant and wavering, as she tried to assess Helena's reaction. They said nothing, just stared, wide-eyed, hardly daring to believe in the other's existence.
"Anyways, Artie sends his love, or at least, that's what I think he was saying. It was grumbles mostly," Claudia continued, in the background. "He says he's given you two," she indicated, waggling a finger between Myka and Helena, "the day to, ah, celebrate and that he and Pete," she nudged Pete in the ribs again, "will keep an eye on the warehouse. Speaking of, Jinksy, you and I need to get back before Artie sprains something worrying about today's artifact. This one shouldn't take too long."
Steve nodded and checked his watch as he fetched his leather jacket from the back of a chair.
Claudia added, waving her hands as she spoke, "Something in Rapid City's making it snow extra hard. Didn't get the ping til a little bit ago only because, if there's one thing the residents of South Dakota don't notice, it's ungodly amounts of snow. Said they'd be more worried if it hadn't been snowing." She rolled her eyes. "That said, we should be back by happy hour. And HG? I turned twenty-one somewhere during your absence. Be prepared for some serious gin fizzin' up in here tonight, so…don't take off, okay? I even bought cream soda for Pete. The expensive, legit kind, not the crappy generic stuff that some people around here purchase by the bomb-shelter-load."
"Careful, Claud. I have to always be prepared. You never know, Artie might make us dig up and neutralize North Dakota's missile supply next," Pete warned.
Claudia scoffed. "Yeah, well, don't give him any ideas."
Helena finally smiled. "I assure you, Claudia. That will be the least of your worries. I'm…" She looked Myka in the eyes. "Here to stay." She heard Myka exhale, relieved.
"Excellent, madame." Claudia playfully saluted. "Bering and Wells, back in action."
Pete giggled. "Yeah," he whispered loudly. "Literally."
Claudia elbowed him again.
Pete winced. "Ow, good grief, you're gonna break a rib soon." He brought a hand to his side and prodded it experimentally. He shot Claudia a doleful look.
"Okaaaay, children," Steve interrupted. "Car. Now."
Myka smirked at that. Helena thought she was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
For a moment, Myka could've sworn Helena looked as she did the first time they laid eyes on each other. Well, minus the gunpoint. It was a look that was one part pleasant surprise at how deliciously, evenly matched they were, and one part acknowledgment that everyone—themselves included—would feel immensely better if they just did it already. Unresolved sexual tension, Claudia had called it. Just for that, Myka had considered enforcing internet timeout.
It passed, shadow-like, over Helena's features and was gone instantly, replaced by something even better.
"We seem to be missing something," Helena started, feeling a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.
At that, Myka frowned. Checklist? No. She wouldn't be needing that today.
"Gunpoint, dear," Helena reminded Myka, her voice soft. There was a light in her eyes.
Myka grinned shakily, could feel the sudden burn of tears along the rims of her eyes.
"It's okay to breathe, Myka," Helena said, grabbing hold of Myka's hand, rubbing her thumb over the knotted silver ring on Myka's finger. Her skin was warm. Finally. "I'm here."
It was as though Myka's nerve endings were feeling for the first time, the way her feet felt when they touched the floor first thing in the morning. Helena's touch was almost electric.
Helena smiled and Myka squeezed her hand in response. Helena brought up her free hand to brush her knuckles against Myka's cheek, which was pink and warm and…alive. She traced a finger along Myka's exquisite jaw line.
She continued, her finger outlining the hem of Myka's shirt, where it drew together at the first button. She hesitated, looked Myka in the eye, and finally pressed her hand against Myka's chest. She closed her eyes and counted the thrums that resonated up through the fabric and against her palm. If she pressed deeply enough, she could almost feel the spark of energy that fueled the most merciful heart in the world.
This was no nightmare. Nor a dream, or even a distant memory replayed a thousand times and unraveling at the edges.
Myka lived and breathed. And she was right here.
Helena's hand lingered there a moment, wanting to make absolutely sure. Myka understood and took a deeper breath, for reassurance.
Myka pulled Helena close. They rested their foreheads against each other.
"You're alive," Helena breathed, her voice hoarse.
"So are you," Myka replied.
Helena mm'ed in response. Myka's forehead blissfully hummed and she closed her eyes, inhaling that faint, familiar aroma of heliotrope. If she listened hard enough, she could almost hear the magnificent cogs of the most brilliant mind in the world.
This was no nightmare. Nor a dream, or even distant memory replayed a thousand times and unraveling at the edges.
Helena was conscious and alive in the present. And she was right here.
And it had just occurred to the two of them that they still had an audience.
Myka sighed, permitting herself an internal eye roll before turning to quirk an unimpressed eyebrow at the group.
Mouthbreathing Neanderthal, Helena thought, opening an eye and spying Pete, whose jaw was close to hitting the floor.
"Wooo," Pete said, with a dramatic flourish of his hands in an effort to smooth over the moment. He glanced from Helena to Myka. "Uh, helloo, what're we waiting for?"
Myka grinned as Helena replied, "Honestly? For Mrs. Frederic to show u—"
"Most thoughtful of you."
Everyone, including Helena, jumped. The warehouse caretaker, who, Helena observed, was back to her customary pink tweed, entered the room, hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes were twinkling.
"Which, I might add, is one of many qualities that the Regents were, ah, encouraged to take into consideration before they moved to permanently reinstate you at Warehouse 13," Mrs. Frederic said.
Myka gasped.
"Eat dust, Team Sausagefest!" Claudia squealed as quietly as possible. Steve choked.
"Oh my god, seriously?" Pete whispered in Claudia's direction.
"Happy Birthday, Agent Wells," Mrs. Frederic finished. She smiled at Helena, who laughed through a sigh of relief.
Not eager to jeopardize her renewed agent status, instead of a hug, Helena slowly approached Mrs. Frederic and held out an upturned hand. Upon it sat the tiny bug that Mrs. Frederic had stuck on her jacket the night before.
"For you."
Mrs. Frederic smiled knowingly as she plucked it from Helena's hand and tucked it into her pocket. Finally, she held out her own hand and offered it to Helena.
Helena didn't move at first, simply looked at the outstretched hand, and allowed the surrealism of the moment to solidify into something resembling a memory. Finally, with a perfunctory nod, she reached out and shook Mrs. Frederic's hand.
"Welcome to the future, Agent Wells," Mrs. Frederic said and turned on her heel. She proceeded to the hallway, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. They waited for the sound of a door that, Helena realized, never needed opening in the first place. Certainly not by Mrs. Frederic, at least.
Helena turned back to Myka, who stood there with tearing eyes and shaking her head in delighted amazement.
"I missed you, Helena," Myka said, choking through a knot Helena knew was forming in her own throat. "More than you'll ever know."
Helena didn't waste another moment.
She took Myka by the hand and pulled her in close, reveling in the feeling of Myka rolling her hips intuitively to hers. Helena drank in the image of her, skillfully memorized every curve and every angle of Myka's face as her lips brushed over Myka's. Of course, there would be plenty of time later to memorize—and precisely utilize—every inch of the woman in her arms, if only she could lose the giddy peanut gallery. She leaned in and nibbled Myka's earlobe tentatively.
It certainly garnered the effect she was hoping for.
Myka's groan, inaudible to everyone else, was a sweet secret in Helena's ear.
Meanwhile Steve, who stood between and just behind Pete and Claudia, brought his hands up to cover their eyes. "Okay, now we're leaving."
"Myka and HG, sittin' in a tree," Pete sang gleefully as he reluctantly followed Claudia towards the door.
"K-i-s-s-i-n-g," Claudia joined in, as Steve herded them out.
The door shut in the distance. They waited, listening to the start of the car. They'd waited this long already. They gave it a moment longer, in case the universe had any other ideas.
"The universe will not be bothering us today," Myka said with a sly smile.
Bonus points for reading my mind, Helena thought. "Oh?"
"Mhmm," Myka replied as she led Helena to the kitchen table, where the plate of sticky toffee pudding sat arranged amidst confetti and balloons. "We, ah, had some words."
Helena ah'ed in response as she watched—nonchalantly, she hoped—as Myka slowly dipped a spoon into the toffee pudding. "Well," ahem, "it has been my experience that the universe does not take kindly to threats."
Myka brought the spoon to her mouth and sucked the toffee from it. She licked it clean—if she was trying to give Helena ideas, well, it's working, Helena granted—before she added, "I told the universe to add it to my tab."
Helena smiled furtively before closing in on Myka and meeting those exquisite, green eyes. Up close, Helena's expression turned solemn.
Myka frowned. "What's wrong?"
"It's just…" Helena began, and Myka heard the year and a half of loneliness and pain creep into the woman's voice. "I thought I would have planned it out better than I did. I p-promise," her voice broke, "I never stopped fighting for you."
She was just slightly confused by Myka's reaction, which was a sigh of relief and a broad smile.
"I know," Myka replied. "I knew that, whatever you were doing, it was important, and if it brought you back safely, then, I could live with that. I will say, though," the corners of Myka's lips curled, "I figured you had something to do with the raven."
Helena sputtered incoherently. "Wh-How do you know about that?"
Myka simply laughed in response. It really was the most beautiful sound in the world. Helena was pretty sure she loved her. Pretty bloody sure.
"Now wait just one moment, you mean, in Italy, and then Austria—"
"Yep," Myka giggled as she spooned another bite of toffee into her mouth. "Knew it was you."
Helena smirked at her a moment before realizing the con. She swiped the spoon from Myka playfully. "Oh, you! I just showed you my hand!"
Myka licked her lips. "It took longer than I thought it would, but then again, I'm used to doing it to Pete. Easy mark, that one."
Helena barked out a laugh in agreement. "I'm a bit rusty, I'm afraid. It's been some time since I was in the field."
"Well, I daresay you're due for some…training." Myka quickly glanced up at the ceiling, which Helena took to mean, in the general direction of her bedroom. "We do make a pretty good team, don't we, Agent Wells?"
"That we do, Agent Bering," Helena replied as she found her gaze falling back to the ring on Myka's finger. "I noticed you still wear it."
Myka looked from Helena to her ring and shrugged. "I like what it stands for."
Helena smiled. "As do I, darling. As do I."
They were almost touching now. Helena leaned in…and reached over to take the plate of dessert from the center of the table.
Myka groaned. "Helena?" Every syllable was positively guttural.
Helena heard it in her voice and simply couldn't resist drawing it out. If Myka was correct—and she almost always was—the universe would not be getting in the way today. They had all the time in the world for now.
"Myka," Helena growled. "I haven't had sticky toffee pudding in over a hundred years."
"Well." Myka saw right through the perfectly…perfect woman before her. She was pretty sure she loved her. Pretty damned sure. "Bring it upstairs, but leave the spoons. I assure you, we won't be needing any."
And with that, Myka led Helena, who only too happily carried the plate of pudding, by the hand upstairs. Helena smiled, watching as brunette curls before her bounced with each step.
She ran a thumb over Myka's hand. Myka squeezed back. Helena smiled again. She was home at last.
Sometimes, all people need is a happy ending, she considered.
I daresay this is only the beginning.
