The final chapter - finally. Myka makes a decision, and we take a look at the ladies' lives in the future.

Notes:

Thank you all for sticking with this little fic until the end. I am really sorry for taking so long to get this last part out, but for some reason I was struggling with it. I hope you all enjoyed this terribly plotted, unlikely rom-com thing. Thanks go to the lovely Splendonia for betaing this last chapter for me.


Myka was in a daze. She'd heard every word Helena had said – of course she had – but she was numb, her mind filled with confusion and fog. It just didn't seem real. She turned to pick up the heavy envelope and ripped it open. A ring of keys fell out but so too did something smaller. Something silver. It rolled away and Myka stood up to retrieve it. It was her wedding band. Chosen flippantly, a sign of their 'love' when they hadn't known each other at all. They were strangers who'd fucked, back then, and that was all. But that ring meant something. Silver filigree and green stones. It might have been cheap – Myka was still hazy on the details of that night – but it was beautiful and it was theirs. If the last few weeks had taught her anything, it was that she wasn't getting over Helena Wells anytime soon.

1 week earlier

"I can't believe… I just, I thought she was the one, Tracy. She was so loving, that last night, and then when I woke up she was just gone, and I never even got the chance to talk to her, to find out why she did it all," Myka said, in between huge, gasping sobs. Tracy rubbed her back with one hand while pouring a copious amount of Scotch into what had begun as a mug of comforting ginger tea.

"I know, sis. I know. She loved you. She loves you, I really believe that. I could tell when she was here that she really loved you. I don't know what made her do any of this, Myka, but I am sure about that. She loves you."

"Why are you defending her?" Myka asked, glaring at Tracy accusatorily through red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm not defending her, Myka," she said, gently. "What she did was horrible. Awful, nasty, shitty. Choose your adjective. But I still believe that she loves you. That's not defending her, it's just making an observation."

"Yeah, well, you know what you can do with that observation," Myka said sourly, taking a large gulp of the whiskey/tea combination and wincing as it burned its way down her oesophagus.

"Yeah, I know," Tracy said wryly. "But that doesn't change things. She loves you. She fucked up royally, but she loves you. Maybe one day we'll find out what was going on in her head when she decided to do this."

Myka sniffed, wiping her nose distractedly on her sleeve. Tracy looked at the trail of snot on her sleeve in distaste, shaking her head.

"Look. Whatever caused it, she's not here, now, and you have a life to live, sis. Why don't you go work at the store for a while, take your mind off things. If you go running any more than you already are you're going to fade away to nothing," Tracy suggested gently.

So Myka went to work in the bookstore, covering for her father who suddenly had meeting after meeting that couldn't be held after working hours and also, for some reason, couldn't be discussed with her. She didn't mind, particularly. She enjoyed the work and she found that things were a lot smoother without her father fussing around in the background, muttering about how she was somehow putting books back in the wrong place, as if she couldn't work out how the alphabet worked. She even let herself dream about running the place herself, using that corner furthest from the door for story time, getting authors to come in for readings and signings, maybe even installing a coffee machine because who in their right mind didn't want to enjoy a coffee while reading a new book? She'd dreamed of it, and of Helena's melodious voice reading in the background to a crowd of pre-schoolers. She pushed that thought away when she remembered to, but part of her didn't want to let the fantasy go.

And now she was listening as Helena's footsteps faded, disappearing after she had basically handed Myka everything she'd ever wanted. Financial security, a bookstore of her own, a future, a place to call home. And Helena was walking away, because of what she'd done. And Myka should let her, shouldn't she? Because after what Helena had done, the breach of trust, the way she'd hurt Myka repeatedly… Myka would be stupid to go after her. Even though she had just said that she still loved Myka. Even though Myka still loved her.

It was an eternity before Myka's foggy mind cleared enough for her to actually move. The first thing she did was to put the ring back on her left ring finger. She didn't think about the implications of that before she picked up the keys and paperwork, stuffing them back into the envelope. She stood quickly and turned, her long legs eating up the distance between her and Helena. The other woman hadn't made it very far. She was walking slowly, her feet kicking up little puffs of dust here and there as if to advertise their reluctance to go any further.

Myka touched Helena's arm, saying nothing at first, breathing heavily from her sprint.

"Don't… don't go. Please. Can we talk?" Myka managed, finally. Helena nodded mutely. "Will you come back to Tracy's with me?" Helena nodded again, and Myka felt something warm in her. The possibility of something.

When they arrived at Tracy's house, Tracy looked at them cautiously before excusing herself, muttering something that Myka didn't quite catch. She disappeared, anyway, so Myka filled up the kettle and made some tea, to give herself something to do and some time to think. She made two cups of tea the way Helena had taught her, setting them down on the table and sitting opposite Helena, her hands wrapped around her mug. Helena sat in silence, her eyes on her tea.

"So. You bought the bookstore," Myka said, inanely.

"I did," Helena confirmed, nodding her head but still not looking up.

"Why did you do that?" Myka asked, gently. Helena looked up, cautiously.

"I… you shouldn't have left that money to me. I don't deserve it, Myka. What I've done to you… the things you'd already forgiven me for, for Christ's sake! And now this? I just… I couldn't let it stand," Helena said, trailing off and looking away.

"But you… you stayed married to me for six months, Helena, for the express purpose of getting that money. Or half of it, at least. So what would make you give that up?" Myka asked, gently but insistently.

"I made me give that up. I didn't deserve it, Myka. I fucked it all up and it wasn't fair to you. How can you even ask me that?" Helena demanded.

"I can ask it because you put up with living with me for six months, with weekly therapy appointments, with meeting my family and friends, with my colleagues, just to give up right at the last minute because of what? An attack of conscience? You had exactly what you wanted. A divorce and all the money, all to yourself. So why not just take off with the money and forget me?" Myka asked, spreading her hands questioningly.

"I… yes. It was an attack of conscience, I suppose. I felt bad about everything that I did to you, and I needed to fix it. So that's what I did," Helena said, frowning.

"So what, you just gave up? Hardly the behaviour of someone like you, Helena. I thought you just cared about money and yourself," Myka said, a small smile growing on her face.

"I do. I did. That's how we got here, Myka. And you deserve better than that. You deserve someone…"

"… who'll give up literally all of the money they have in the world to see my future secured? Someone who will put me first, even if it means they are left without a thing?" Myka interrupted, one eyebrow up.

"Well, yes," Helena said, confused.

"So I deserve someone like you?" Myka asked.

"No," Helena said stubbornly. "You deserve much better than me. Regardless of my recent actions, I've proven I can't be trusted, Myka. I messed everything up, repeatedly, hurt you and left you when you needed me most. You deserve much better. It was the least I could do to make sure you got the money. It was yours in the first place. I should never have insisted on you staying married to me," Helena said, standing up and gesticulating wildly.

"So I deserve someone who is like you, but not you because you don't deserve me?" Myka asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Exactly," Helena said weakly, sinking back into her chair.

"And what if I want you? What if I want to try, to see if we can make a relationship from this mess?" Myka asked, and Helena looked up at her as if she were entirely insane.

"Myka, are you… how can you even think that? I… I hurt you. I broke your heart," Helena said.

"Yes. You did. But a broken heart eventually mends, especially when the person who did it comes back into your life and makes a genuine apology and tells you that they love you," Myka said calmly.

"Myka, don't you see that I don't deserve you?" Helena said, her eyes wide.

"I do. Of course I do. I've cried every day since I saw you last, Helena Wells. I've never cried over anyone the way I've cried over you. But I still love you. And if you still love me, maybe we can have a chance, to do this properly, this time," Myka said.

Helena was opening her mouth to protest when Tracy shouted from the other room.

"Would you just kiss her already, you fucking idiot?!"

Myka raised a challenging eyebrow, and Helena stood up and approached her cautiously. She looked at the ring on Myka's finger and, sinking to one knee, she took Myka's hand in hers.

"Fine, then. Myka Bering? Will you consider the possibility of re-marrying me, assuming that I don't screw things up unforgivably in the meantime?" Helena asked, removing the ring from Myka's ring finger and pausing, looking up at Myka with her heart in her eyes.

"Yes, I will," Myka said, with a wry smile, "assuming you don't screw things up in the meantime."

Helena placed the ring back on Myka's finger carefully before leaning upwards. Myka met her halfway, kissing her gently.

"Finally," Tracy said, from the room next door, where she'd clearly been listening. Myka chuckled.

"Are we really going to do this?" Helena asked, in a tone full of wonder.

"We are," Myka said, running her hand through Helena's hair gently. "We are. And this time we're going to do it right, not Mrs Bering-Wells. Okay?"

"Yes," Helena said, fervently, and then Myka kissed her, much less gently, coinciding with Tracy's return and then immediate retreat from the room, muttering about brain bleach and lesbian activity.

3 months later

Myka's hair was wild. She'd tried to tie it back that morning rather than wrestling it into submission but it was escaping from the hair tie in small clouds of puffy curls. She smiled at the young man who'd just bought the entire Wheel of Time series after having it enthusiastically recommended by another customer. She bagged up the books carefully and handed him the heavy bags, thanking him for his custom. When the sale was finished, she put a sign on the counter saying "Story time. Back in 15 minutes for purchases."

This had quickly become her favourite time of day. It was Saturday, too, and that meant a huge crowd of kids. This week's selection was the first book of "A Series of Unfortunate Events", and Myka was really looking forward to it.

She walked to the back corner of the bookshop, propping herself up in the window seat that was her perch during story time. She sat cross-legged, smiling as Helena settled herself in the small rocking-chair they'd found in a local antique store before the revamped Bering & Sons bookstore reopened.

"Good morning, everyone," Helena said, smiling around at the small crowd, mostly pre-schoolers and their parents. Word had spread quickly of this little event and it had increased their business slowly but steadily.

Helena started to read, exaggerating her accent a little as she described the various misfortunes of the Baudelaire children. Myka suppressed a shiver at the depth of her rich voice. The last few months had been a revelation. Helena had worked so, so hard at getting the bookstore ready, staying up til midnight some nights to paint and remodel the store. She had been looking after Myka too, in a way that Myka never knew she wanted.

Since that day when Helena had handed Myka the keys to her new life, Helena was a changed woman. She'd become the person Myka had glimpsed during their first six months together, a caring, sweet and focused partner who observed and took care of Myka's needs almost before she herself knew they existed. They were still divorced. The bookstore and various other complications – like Helena moving permanently to Colorado, them having to visit New York to say goodbye to their friends – had cut into their time and they'd decided that it was for the best, anyway. They might as well take it slow, they decided, while working on the bookstore and starting their new life together. One aspect of their life that they hadn't taken slow was the physical aspect, however. They'd waited long enough, or so Myka told Helena that first night, still in Tracy's house. Helena had wanted to be respectful, to wait until Myka trusted her again. But Myka wasn't to be deterred, and Helena wasn't that noble.

Since then, things had been spectacular. Myka had never been happy, not like this. Not with someone who saw her the way Helena did. Someone who paid attention, who made sure that Myka had what she needed without her ever having to ask. It was a little terrifying, because now that she had it, she wasn't sure how she would live without it. And she didn't entirely believe that Helena wasn't going to take off the next time she freaked out about something. Even being married to Myka hadn't deterred her from running.

It was only a small part of Myka that worried about that, however. Because the way Helena looked at her – it was awe, it was love, it was determination. Helena wanted to be here and she wanted to prove that she was staying.

Myka tuned back in to hear the kids protesting the end of the reading. Helena was holding her hands up, laughing.

"Aww, Miss Helena, please read some more?"

That was a tiny child who could have been Myka and Helena's biological child, if such a thing were possible. And Helena was helpless against the high, piping voice and the green eyes and black hair.

"Okay, okay," she said, smiling. "One more chapter."

And then she smiled at Myka, and Myka's heart stopped for a moment. It happened every day at this time, when Helena looked at her like that. Like she wanted to devour her, to worship her. It was hard to resist grabbing her and dragging her into the stockroom. But it would have to wait, because there were children and their parents waiting expectedly for the next unfortunate event.

Later that day, when the shop was empty and the closed sign on the door, Myka did indeed drag Helena into the stockroom and it turned out that she was right. Helena had wanted to devour her, and she did so right there, with Myka propped on top of the desk she used for doing the accounts. Thankfully no-one was around to hear the noises Myka made, because she would never have been able to look another human in the eye after that.

"I love you, not-Mrs Bering," she said to Helena, a little later when they were curled up together on the couch in what had been her parents' apartment.

"I love you, not-Mrs Wells," Helena said, her smile wide and wicked.

It was Myka and Helena's wedding day. A real, planned wedding this time, where the participants were (for the most part) sober. There were a lot of people attending; more than either woman had expected. Almost half of the partners from Myka's old firm were there, including her old boss Artie. Helena's parents, Myka's parents, their siblings, and all of their friends had made the trip to the clearing in the woods where they'd reconciled. The bookstore was closed for the first time in the year since they'd opened it together, and a fair number of their more regular customers were also there.

They'd already made it through the vows and they were almost at the exchanging of rings and kisses. Helena was wearing an extremely sharp white suit and Myka was in a pale blue silk dress, with flowers in her hair.

"You sure about this, not Mrs Bering?" she whispered, during a pause in the ceremony.

"More sure than I've ever been," Helena assured her, her eyes clear and her smile wide.

Myka smiled back, her chest filling with warmth. This was what it was supposed to be like. This is what it had been like since Helena came back to her. She'd never felt so happy or so in love. It was ridiculous. Tracy was constantly mocking her for the stupid grin she habitually sported whenever Helena was in view.

She turned her attention back to the ceremony just in time to say "I do." She slipped the ring onto Helena's finger – the same ring they'd used the first time – and accepted the ring Helena slipped onto hers. They kissed to the sound of cheers and wolf-whistles, smiling and leaning their foreheads together.

"Mrs Wells," Helena said, holding out a hand for Myka to take.

"Mrs Bering," Myka said, taking Helena's hand and turning to face their wedding guests to general applause.

The rest of the day passed in a blur – she didn't lay eyes – or hands – on Helena for the majority of the time, since one or other of them was always involved in a well-meaning conversation with a guest. But by the end of the day she wanted nothing more than to slip away into Helena's arms. She was stymied once again, however, by the surprise introduction of their wedding video by their friends. Their first wedding video. The drunken one.

Claudia Donovan, of course, was the ringleader of this little event, but all of their friends and even Charles Wells was involved, she found out later. He'd written the voiceover, putting on his best David Attenborough voice to describe the wedding as if it were a wildlife show.

"Ladies and gentlemen. This video is not safe for work, so any little ones attending this shindig should leave now," Claudia announced with a grin.

"Oh God," Myka said, putting her head in her hands. Helena only grinned, however. She was utterly shameless.

The video was cut together from the wedding chapel's own footage and some that Claudia herself had shot, apparently. Because Pete and Abigail certainly weren't videoing the proceedings. Nor were they paying any attention to the proceedings, because Pete appeared to be trying to eat Abigail's face from varying angles. For some reason he had a tie wrapped around his head, despite the fact that he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and not a suit. Abigail was climbing Pete like a tree and at one point licked his face as if she were a cat and he was the cream. It was all extremely disconcerting, as were the breaks in Claudia's footage where she and Leena were making out like wildcats in heat. Helena and Myka displayed a little more decorum, macking on each other only a few times during the ceremony, in between declarations of how much they loved each other (occasionally calling each other by the wrong name).

The crowd were in hysterics as Myka and Helena, eyes vacant and makeup running, stumbled over their words and just about managed to get through the ceremony. Myka shook her head. There was no way Tracy was ever, ever going to let any of this go. Myka put her head in her hands again in despair.

The wedding video ended with all three couples making out as Pete and Abigail dry-humped before falling off the pew in the wedding chapel.

"Wow. Well," Claudia said, spreading her hands, her embarrassment clear. "Despite the footage causing me some serious embarrassment, I think we can all agree that it was worth it to see the two lovebirds getting married the first time around. And now, for a bonus, we have a short video presentation, courtesy of myself, Abigail and Pete. Leena would like to be left out of this part entirely, just so you know."

"I would have preferred to be left out of the last part too!" Leena shouted, and everyone chuckled. Anyone who knew Leena knew that her behaviour that night was very unusual – Leena was a deeply private person. But there had been so, so much alcohol. Myka groaned again quietly. Her parents had seen that video. Helena's parents had seen it.

The second video presentation started like a short film. There was an indistinct figure walking up some stairs in what looked like an apartment building. It was familiar, but Myka couldn't quite place it. They knocked on a door, and a man answered. The camera was only shooting the bottom half of both figures, but then it moved, and Myka gasped as she realised it was Sam's apartment. The other figure was Abigail. She knelt down suddenly and her arm snapped forward, and Sam suddenly collapsed, holding his crotch. As he fell to the floor he looked up at her, imploring.

"Why?" he asked, his voice coming out in a squeak.

"You know why!" Abigail said, half-hissing the words, and then she high-fived the cameraman, who it turned out was Pete. There was one last lingering shot of Sam lying on the floor, tears rolling down his face, and then it faded to black.

Claudia gave a short bow in acknowledgement of the applause. Some of the wedding party were confused as to what had happened in the video, not being acquainted with Sam and Myka's past. But a nutpunch was a nutpunch, and even though Myka was so embarrassed that she didn't think her skin would ever return to a normal colour, even she conceded it was funny. And kind of sweet, actually, that Abigail, Pete and Claudia would take on Sam for her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would ask that you all raise your glasses once again and toast the happy couple. And let's get their asses up here to dance. I haven't seen you guys make out in, like, forever," Claudia said. She had a huge, shit-eating grin on her face and Myka sighed. The girl would never change.

"Shall we, Mrs Wells?" Helena said, standing and holding out her hand to Myka.

"Absolutely, Mrs Bering," Myka said, taking Helena's hand. They made their way to the dance floor and Claudia put on an Elvis song before changing it to some sappy stuff by Ed Sheeran. They moved around the dance floor slowly in each other's arms, smiling. Their life wasn't perfect – not by a long chalk – but they were happy. They had the bookstore, enough money to keep them comfortable, and they had each other. Myka didn't need anything else. She didn't even need the money. Where Helena was – that was home.

The guests lifted their glasses just then, hitting them lightly with cutlery, and Helena smiled up at Myka.

"I think they want us to kiss, darling," she said, shaking her head at Claudia who had clearly instigated the whole thing. "I don't want to disappoint them."

"Then let's not," Myka said, tilting her head down to kiss Helena gently, tasting the champagne on her tongue. Helena sucked a little on Myka's tongue, and Myka gasped a little into her mouth. Helena knew what that did to her. For revenge, she slid one hand downwards to cup Helena's ass, turning their bodies so it was clear to their audience what she was doing. There was a roar of approval and then some applause. Helena moved back a little, her eyes twinkling.

"Bloody minx," she said, and Myka laughed.

"You tease me, you get teased back," Myka said, and Helena bit her lip and then pulled Myka's head down for another kiss.

"Mrs and Mrs Bering-Wells, everybody!" Claudia said, and there was a general shout of "Cheers!" before the rest of the party joined them on the dance floor. It was a blur, but by the end of it they'd managed to get themselves to the edge of the dancefloor and then they slipped out with no-one the wiser.

They made it to the hotel room before they did anything more than kiss hungrily. They'd had enough of their escapades making it onto video for Claudia to exploit. Myka let Helena strip her before she did the same, kneeling at Helena's feet and just looking at her. It never failed to amaze her that someone who looked like Helena would want her. Would love her. But Helena did, and Myka didn't doubt that anymore. Helena had given her all to the bookstore, to Myka, since she came to Colorado. Helena loved her enough to give up everything she'd previously wanted – an easy life, money – all for Myka. Without asking for anything in return. That had been the thing that had really clinched it for Myka, oddly enough. Helena walking away from her after giving her the keys to the bookstore and all of the money Myka had won in Vegas. Helena knowing that Myka still didn't want her, but giving up everything for her anyway.

"I love you," Helena said, looking down at her, her expression unguarded. She swallowed heavily.

"I love you too, honey," Myka said.

"This is it, for us, isn't it?" Helena asked, and she looked so nervous that Myka stood, holding Helena by the upper arms gently.

"Of course. This is it. No more games, no more lies. Just you, and me, and hopefully a boring, happy life," Myka said, and Helena smiled.

"Maybe not all that boring," she said, with a devilish smirk, before lifting Myka off her feet and throwing her bodily onto the huge bed.

Myka was tired. Exhausted. More tired than she'd ever been in her life, and that included her time in New York, running around after Sam while trying to win a promotion. When they'd decided to adopt a child, she hadn't really understood the amount of work it would entail. The lack of sleep, the constant worrying, the constant activity.

"Are you all right, darling?" Helena asked, looking at her in concern. "You look knackered."

"I am," Myka confessed. "She kept me up all night."

"At one point in your life, saying those words might have been a boast," Helena said, with a sly smile. Myka shook her head.

"Not today, I can tell you. And also, there's gonna be none of that sort of business until I get some sleep."

"Should only be a year or so, darling," Helena said, before taking the small bundle from her arms. A bundle of joy, some called her, but she was also a bundle of poop, of crying, of vomit, and… okay, of joy, too.

"I'll take her for a bit, love. You go and sleep. Fargo and Todd are working today. I'll keep Catherine while I'm doing story time. She likes that, and so do the hot mums and dads, too. Might get us a sale or two," Helena said, waggling her eyebrows lasciviously.

"Oh for the love of God," Myka moaned. "You're as bad as Pete."

"Well, he has been around an awful lot, lately," Helena agreed, grinning unrepentantly.

Myka made her way upstairs after waving vaguely at her wife and Fargo and Todd, all of whom were basically saving her ass. She was so tired she could barely think. Adopting Catherine was the best thing they'd ever done, next to getting married and buying the bookstore, at least. But it wasn't without its sacrifices. Catherine's mother had been a meth user and the girl was born early and way too small, with a cleft palate. She had the chance of developing a host of other problems too. But a visitor to the bookstore had told them about this tiny abandoned child who'd been dropped off at a fire station, of all things, and for whom things weren't looking good. It took Myka a full day to get up the courage to ask Helena if she wanted to foster the baby once she was well enough, and Helena's look of complete and utter relief was her answer. It took some doing, but almost a year later Catherine was thriving. And taking all of Myka's energy with her.

Myka flopped belly-up on the bed and was asleep before she could even take off her boots.

Helena came up an hour later, popping Catherine carefully into her cot and taking off Myka's shoes before covering her with a comforter. She brushed some hair from Myka's eyes gently and smiled down at her (first and second) wife. Myka had changed her completely, and for the better. Helena would never be the same person she once was, selfish and shallow and concerned only with doing the least amount of work possible. She had found, in Vegas of all places, a woman who'd changed her life. It was a far cry from what she'd expected from her visit – she was expecting, at best, food poisoning and maybe an STD. But what she'd actually found there was a new life.

"Funny how these things work out, isn't it, Cat?" she said, quietly, leaning down to kiss her daughter's ridiculously cute face. "If you're lucky, what happens in Vegas changes your life."

She leaned down to kiss Myka's brow gently and went back downstairs to wrangle her unruly mob of workers and customers, her mind already on her next book choice for her daily reading corner. Perhaps it was time to read something with a little more bite. But Colorado was still rather conservative. She wasn't sure she'd get away with Philip Pullman here. Maybe some HG Wells, just for fun? She made a mental note to ask Myka, smiling without realising, her mind on business but her heart with the woman and girl upstairs.