Chapter Ten
Bollocks

Deep down Myka knew that Helena would be less than impressed with her decision to explore Wilde's mansion during her break. However with the Englishwoman surrounded by a gaggle of guests in the main room, she could not approach her much less obtain her permission for a discreet bit of snooping. Myka had advised Helena to be careful, but she had made no promises regarding her own actions.

As Myka slipped out of the library and down a corridor, she was acutely aware that she had neither a Farnsworth nor a Tesla concealed on her person. Although she knew that Pete lingered somewhere beyond the gates of the estate, only Helena or Cain would be able to get in touch with them. At this point in time, Myka was very much on her own. However Helena's kiss had left her feeling a myriad of different emotions. Among them was excitement, and more than a little plain, old fashioned desire. Even as she remembered the play of Helena's lips over her own, she felt a delicious thrill travel down her spine and lodge somewhere at the apex of her legs. The sensation was both pleasurable and extremely inconvenient as she slipped away from Wilde's guests and chose a likely looking staircase leading upwards.

Just because you haven't had sex in an extremely...extremely long time, doesn't mean you're allowed to turn into a complete idiot, Myka berated herself as she pressed her back up against a wall. With her breath stopped in her throat, she peered around the corner. And one kiss certainly does not mean that you've got a free pass into the panties of HG Wells. It was entirely the wrong thought. Her knees trembled slightly at the thought of Helena's underwear. For a few moments she even allowed herself to close her eyes. She stopped abruptly when she caught herself running her tongue rapaciously over her upper lip. Myka, for fuck's sake!

Concentrating instead on an image of Pete eating with his mouth open, Myka made her way down the corridor. It was only as she was walking that she realised she did not know entirely what she was looking for. It was hardly likely that Wilde was simply going to leave the case containing the key merely lying around for the taking. She caught a glimpse of a shadow at the far end of the hallway and her heart leapt into her throat. Reacting quickly, she reached for the nearest door and slipped inside. Myka did not dare close the door behind her, instead she remained in the darkness beyond with her back jammed up against the wall behind her. With the door slightly ajar, a narrow shaft of light penetrated the gloom. She could see very little of the corridor beyond, but the footsteps were unmistakably heading her way. Rather than retreat further into the room and risk making a sound, Myka remained in place. The footsteps were almost upon her. By now she could see the shadow falling across the light as whoever it was paused by the open door. Myka jammed her hand against her mouth to keep from gasping with fright as a hand reached out for the door knob – only to draw it closed altogether. Shrouded in near total darkness, Myka let out a deep sigh of relief.

She had planned on making her exit from the room once the footsteps had passed, however as she waited her gaze drifted over the room. Her eyes gradually became adjusted to the darkness. A weak light filtered through the curtains and illuminated another study. Unlike the one downstairs in which she and Helena had kissed, this one actually appeared used. The desk was laden with books and papers. A computer monitor sat silently in sleep mode, a small green light winking invitingly as Myka crossed to stand behind the desk. Without sitting down, Myka began running her gaze over the papers and books – noting their titles. Most were catalogues similar to the ones she had spent far too much time looking at in the Warehouse, however these were newer. There were also a significant number of books on the history of Oxford University and its buildings. One had been left open, a crude fluorescent post-it note slapped carelessly on the page. The book-dealer in Myka almost gasped aloud when she saw someone had actually taken a red marker pen to the book itself. Although the words were difficult to make out in the darkness, she did not dare turn on a light. Instead she lowered her face to the page and scanned the entry. It referred to a man named Francis Ceil-Gibson's longstanding tenure as a Professor of Ancient History at Oxford. Myka frowned. This Francis had been a contemporary of Acton Cecil-Gibson, the prospect that they might possibly be related was too much of a coincidence to pass up. The real question was why Wilde would be interested in Acton's brother.

Myka regarded the computer with a wary eye. She was not good with technology at the best of times and the likelihood of her being able to hack into Wilde's computer was almost zero. Where's Claudia when you need her? Myka thought. She missed the little techie desperately at the best of times, without actually being faced with an obstacle she could not overcome herself. With her photographic memory being more than capable of remembering what she had seen, Myka decided not to push her luck further. They would already have more than enough to research based on this simple information alone – with any luck, the combined resources of the Warehouse would be able to swiftly catch up to Wilde.

The corridor was once again empty when she slipped out of the study. With light, delicate footsteps, Myka retraced her steps back toward the stairs. A quick glance at her watch confirmed her sinking suspicions that, between the dalliance with Helena and her snooping, she had exceeded her allocated break time by a good ten minutes. Still, the prospect of being fired from a waitressing job did not bother her so much as being able to return to the main floor undetected. A prospect that slipped away all too quickly when Myka neared the bottom of the stairs. Footsteps sounded around the corner. With absolutely nowhere to go, Myka could only scramble down the last few stairs and make an effort to look as though she was merely admiring a Hogarth print on the wall above her.

With her heart hammering in her chest, she let out an exceedingly loud exhale when she recognised the man approaching. It was Jonathan Cain. The Englishman seemed only mildly surprised to find Myka standing there. Even though they had not spoken, no doubt he had seen her working the room at the party.

"Ah, the lovely Miss Bering," he said with a broad grin on his face. Myka replied with a tense smile of her own, however it soon vanished when he surged forward and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. He used the force to press her backwards against the wall behind them. "What kind of game are you playing at here? You can't just go off as you please around this house. If Wilde catches you snooping he will not hesitate to make you disappear. And trust me when I say he is powerful enough to do just that."

"What is his interest in Oxford University?" Myka asked bluntly, refusing to be baited by his scaremongering.

Cain frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The books in his study," Myka replied. "Surely you've seen them." When he shook his head, she continued. "Acton Cecil-Gibson had a brother who was a Professor at Oxford University. Obviously Wilde has picked up on some link with the cache, or he would not be researching it as thoroughly as he is. I would have thought that you would have known that had you actually been doing anything besides drinking Wilde's champagne and following him around like a sycophantic little dog."

Cain's expression twisted into a sneer for a split second, before he caught himself. It was gone, replaced one again by the very model of an English gentleman. "I think that there are many things you do not understand, Myka, least of all the game we are playing here." His tone had gentled somewhat and he relaxed his grip on her arm. "It is very delicate-"

"Bollocks!" Myka replied, unconsciously utilising one of Helena's favourite curses. "There's nothing delicate in the way you've thrown Helena into the pit with that viper. You're not the one who's risking everything here, she is. Her safety is one thing, but her self-respect is another altogether. Helena made have done much that she regrets in her lifetime, but that does not mean she has to make up for it by becoming the Regent's whore." Myka had not intended to sound so vehement when she spoke, but when it came to Helena, she could not help herself.

"You seem terribly preoccupied with what the dear Miss Wells may have to do in order to see this mission through to its conclusion, least of all the prospect that she may have to get even closer to Wilde," Cain commented. He watched the play of emotions across Myka's face.

"My feelings on the subject are utterly irrelevant," she protested curtly. "It's the principle!"

"Bollocks." He threw the word back in Myka's face. "What would your response be if I said that Wilde is fucking Helena?" Myka's entire body stiffened. She could not control the angry mask that settled over her pale features. Cain gave a self-satisfied smirk. "Precisely. You're already too emotionally involved with this case, Myka. Keep your distance, stick to what you know best...reading your books, leave the grown-up work to the grown-ups. You and I both know that Helena is experienced and thick-skinned enough to know what is required of her. Now I think you have some canapés to serve, don't you?"

Although Myka returned to London in the small hours of that morning, Pete was only a short distance behind. Her partner was decidedly dirty, covered in various smudges of dirt and twigs that indicated he had once again spent an evening lying beneath a hedgerow. He was disgruntled, in a good-humoured way as he gave her a brief hug.

"Okay, Mykes, next time I get to wear the sexy little dress and go to the party. You can hang out with the wildlife in the English countryside," he said before seeing the odd expression that passed over her face. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

Myka was torn between crying and laughing. In the end, both emerged abruptly. She had not expected Cain's callous remark to have such an effect on her. However the prospect that it was true left her feeling sick to the pit of her stomach, especially when Helena had not mentioned anything along those lines herself.

Would she tell me if she was sleeping with him? Myka had to ask herself. A part of her suspected that no, she would not. Regardless of how genuine her feelings were on their fledging romance, Helena had long since proven herself to be a master of duplicity. She had pulled the wool over everyone's eyes during her initial spell with the Warehouse, especially her own. Regardless of Myka's subsequent mistrust of the Englishwoman, she knew that it would be effortless for Helena to dupe her a second time. All she would have to do was kiss me, Myka thought with a slight pang.

"I could use a drink," Myka muttered.

"I'll make you a cup of herbal tea," was Pete's surprising offer in return.

Myka snorted. "That's not exactly what I had in mind."

"Well tough, it's all you're going to get tonight," he replied as he headed towards the tiny kitchenette in their hotel room.

As he bustled with the kettle and cups, Myka threw herself down into the sofa. Her maid uniform was gone, but she was still wearing the awful clothes that she and Pete had picked up at Primark the previous day. She absently plucked at the hem of her top, several threads had already worked their way free and she worried at them until she had a length long enough to wrap around her finger. When Pete returned with their tea, she spoke before he could sit down.

"I kissed Helena." She said it abruptly, almost without emotion in her voice. This was despite the thought that she ought to be turning somersaults. After all, wasn't it what she had wanted for months?

"And?" he demanded. Pete practically dumped the mugs on the table, liquid sloshed out of both but he seemed not to care as he sat heavily on the sofa beside her. "Wait...hang on, you were supposed to be working, not locking lips with the luscious HG Wells!" he point out.

"Trust me, Pete, I worked. I served enough champagne and canapés to sink a battleship...not to mention the fact that I uncovered some rather interesting leads on Ceil-Gibson," Myka replied in a business-like tone. However when her thoughts turned instead to Helena, all traces of that tone disappeared. "But all of that pales in comparison to the fact that I kissed Helena."

"Okay, since you obviously want to tell me what it was like, spill the beans," Pete said with a loud, mock sigh that barely concealed his actual curiosity.

"Perfect...well, not the first one because let's face it, I went at it with a little too much enthusiasm," Myka began.

Pete merely lifted his eyebrows in awkward surprise. "Okaaaay."

Myka ignored him and continued. "But I felt as though it was what I was supposed to be doing. I didn't realise that kissing her would be that-" Myka struggled for the right words. "-soft. It felt right in all the ways that my previous kisses had been wrong."

"All of those kisses were with guys," Pete helpfully pointed out. "Perhaps you're just a late-in-life lesbian?"

"Late-in-life? Seriously, Pete." Myka balled up her small fist and swatted at his arm playfully. She pursed her lips thoughtfully for several moments. "I don't know if I am gay...and I don't think it matters. All I know is that I'm in love with Helena. Which is why we've got to do everything we can to wrap this case up as soon as possible. She shouldn't have to carry out with this charade with Wilde any longer. And I'm not thinking like that purely because something has happened between us, it's not right to use her like this. The thought of her..." Myka's voice trailed off as she remembered Cain's words yet again. She sighed. "I just don't want her to get hurt, Pete. If anything happened to Helena now...it would seriously throw me."

"It would throw all of us, Mykes," Pete added kindly. "We've all got her best interests at heart. And you know Helena is more than capable of taking care of herself."

Myka reached out for the tea Pete had made earlier. She plucked it out of the ring of spilt liquid on the table and took a sip. It had cooled to the perfect temperature to drink. The light fruity taste slipped easily down her throat as her mind worked. Although she was tired – and the tea was not helping her remain awake – she dwelt on the conversation she'd had with Cain, and now the one she had with Pete. Both men were under the impression that Helena Wells could handle everything that was thrown at her with merely a 'bollocks' and a toss of her perfectly coifed hair. Myka however knew that this was not the case. When Christina had died, Helena had slipped into a spiral of grief that culminated in an act verging on insanity. Although she had since recovered, Myka sensed that there was an underlying fragility to Helena's psyche that could not be easily healed. She caught glimpses of it in Helena's gaze and in the way her smile had wavered the previous evening as she spoke of Wilde. As ridiculous as it seemed, Myka desperately wanted to project the Englishwoman from the world around her...and, most importantly, from the wandering hands of Herodotus Wilde.

If I'd just told her that I love her when I had the chance, Myka thought regretfully. She drained half the mug of tea in several quick gulps. I don't give a damn if it's too soon, not anymore.

With the last of the tea gone, Myka set the cup down and turned to Pete. "We've got work to do."

Pete merely stared in disbelief. "Mykes, it's about four am in the morning. You look like hell and I need to have a shower and get rid of the little friends crawling in my clothing. Go to sleep, trust me, you'll feel better for it when you wake up."

Myka frowned. "It's about ten pm at home...if I call now I can probably get Clauds started on a bit of research."

"Claudia will be tucked up in bed with a mug of cocoa," Pete warned her. "Wearing that onesie with the yellow ducks on it."

"Rubbish," Myka snorted in disbelief as she went to fetch her Farnsworth. "The night is young, she'll be wide-awaked pumped up on coffee."

The bleary-eyed hacker conformed to Pete's description perfectly, even the yellow duck onesie. However she patiently heard out Myka's theories about Francis Cecil-Gibson and promised to start on it first thing in the morning. It wasn't quite the answer that myka had been hoping for, but she agreed. Pete merely gave Myka an 'I told you so' expression and she reluctantly dragged herself to her tiny bedroom and the single bed that was waiting for her.

"You've have been very quiet, miss Wells," Cain said as he looked across to Helena on the other side of the back seat.

"You can cut the 'Miss Wells' bollocks, Cain," she replied. The dark-haired woman did not turn to look at him. She merely continued staring out the window at the rolling countryside beyond the window. "Call me Helena like everyone else."

"Are you quite alright?"

"Fine," Helena replied through gritted teeth.

"Did everything go well yesterday evening?" he asked carefully. "I know that having Myka there threw an awful spanner into the works, but I think Wilde definitely seems to be relaxing. Did he reveal anything last night when you went to bed?"

Helena finally turned to look at Cain. She threw him a look that would have sliced him to pieces had her gaze been daggers. "Why the bloody hell would Wilde be in my bed to reveal anything in the first place?" she demanded.

Cain was nonplussed. He shrugged. "I thought you were in Wilde's bed."

"None of your fucking business," she snapped in reply.

"Helena-"

"This conversation is over, Jonathan," she replied in a cold tone.

They passed the rest of the drive to London in a frosty silence. It was only when Wilde's car deposited them outside their hotel that Helena spoke. Even then it was only to tell Cain to take her bag upstairs.

"What in blazes are you doing?" he asked as she headed back toward the taxi rank.

"Like I said earlier, none of your fucking business," Helena replied as she ducked into the nearest black cab. She slammed the door shut even as Cain started walking toward her. "Just drive," she told the driver.

Helena watched Cain's rather outrage face as the taxi pulled away. Only when she was out of sight did she relax back into the leather seat behind her. She closed her eyes for just a few moments, but did not allow herself to give in tears...not just yet.

"Alright, luv?" the driver asked.

When Helena opened her eyes she found his affable face staring at her in the rear vision mirror. She nodded and managed a small smile in return.

"Where to?" was his next question.

Helena's first thought had been to put as much distance between herself and Cain as she could. However, as she mulled over the options in her head, she took the only one she was interested in. "Holiday Inn on Finchley Road please."

"A bit of a step down from the Marriot," he replied with a chuckle to himself.

No, it's a hundred thousand times better, Helena thought to herself.

She managed to hold everything together until the taxi arrived at the thoroughly uninspiring building that was the Holiday Inn. After tipping the driver generously, Helena walked out of the taxi and into the building. The bored receptionist gave her only a cursory glance as she strolled in as though she had every right to be there. The room she wanted was on the third floor. When she knocked, a rather chipper looking Pete Latimer opened the door. His grin disappeared when he saw her, replaced quickly by a look of concern.

"Oh...I thought you were room service," he feigned disappointment before ushering her inside. "I'm not even going to ask what the hell you're doing here, HG. It's good to see you."

"Likewise, Pete," Helena replied quickly. "Um...I was hoping to speak to Myka. Is she in?"

"Yeah, but she's still sleeping like a baby after last night." It was already pushing one o'clock in the afternoon. "Is everything alright?"

I wish people would stop asking me that question, Helena thought, guilty that she was annoyed at Pete who never went out of his way to hurt anyone. Regardless of whether they are well-meaning or otherwise.

She did not want to answer his question. "Can I use your shower?" she eventually asked.

Although initially taken aback, Pete nodded quickly. He pointed in the direction of a door leading off the living space of the hotel suite. "I'm pretty sure there are some fresh towels if you look hard enough. Just don't use the wet one lying next to the bath."

Myka was tiring of seeing the same shimmering blue light hanging in front of her eyes every night. However this night was different. No longer were Pete and Artie standing with her in the tiny cocoon. She was alone. Helena was still beyond the barrier, but she was not alone. Wilde was standing at her side, running his hands possessively over her body in ways that Myka could only dream of doing. Even as Myka watched, the two kissed. Gone were all traces of reluctance as Helena leaned into the mashing of lips, doing her utmost to appear as though she was enjoying every second. Trapped within the dream Myka was unable to tear her gaze away despite the revulsion it stirred within her. Even when Wilde's fingers began working at the belt of Helena's trousers, she could only stare in rapt fascination. Sickened and angry, she could do nothing. She felt like a perverse voyeur as Wilde's hand went to his own zip. When he thrust his hips forward in a hungry motion several moments later, Helena uttered a cry of delight. Myka was unable to manage a single sound, not even to express the anger boiling in her veins.

When Myka's eyes opened, she found her room relatively dark, but also bathed in the sort of soft glow obtained by drawing the curtains on a sunny day. She rolled over and stared at the window without enthusiasm. There was a tiny patch out blue side visible between a slight gap but there was absolutely nothing compelling her to make the transition to full wakefulness other than a vague sense that she needed to start work on her leads. However her nightmare ridden sleep meant that the eagerness she had displayed the previous evening was gone. Instead it was replaced by self-doubt and mistrust.

When the door to her room opened with a creak, Myka made no effort to roll over. She was already certain that it was Pete come to tell her that she was sleeping the day away. However as the weight settled on the bed behind her, Myka caught the whiff of a heavenly, familiar scent. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest.

"Helena?" she whispered in disbelief. She eventually rolled over, hardly daring to make a sudden movement in case this was still a part of her dream. "Helena."

The Englishwoman's dark eyes stared back at her. For some reason she looked as though she had just emerged from a shower. Her hair was damp and Myka recognised the smell of her own shampoo. She had also helped herself to a towelling robe from the bathroom. It was the one with an embroidered His on the breast. It was the one Myka had been using as Pete had quickly claimed the Hers one, saying he preferred a robe that was a little snug. Myka lay staring for several minutes before it finally dawned on her that the liquid pooling beneath Helena's eyes were tears. The anger she had felt earlier had long since disappeared. Without needing to have an internal debate about her actions, she simply folded her arms around the other woman and drew her close. A split second later, a gentle sob broke the silence, followed closely by a heart-rending cascade of tears.

"Hey," Myka whispered. "Hey. You know you're safe here."

"Myka..." Helena replied. "I'm so tired."

"Shhh." Myka deposited a kiss on her forehead. Her lips desperately wanted to linger on that soft skin but she forced herself to keep the contact brief. "Sleep here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm so sorry," Helena eventually said as she closed her eyes. "I shouldn't have come here. I've no right after what I've done."

Although Myka felt sick to her stomach at the implications within Helena's words, she kept her tone soft and her embrace firm. "No, you need to be here," she replied.

"Myka...you don't understand-" Helena started to protest.

"You need to be here," Myka interrupted. When Helena did not continue, she drew a deep breath. I guess now is as good a time as any..."You need to be here...because I love you."