Disclaimer: it's one in the morning
AN: sorry sorry sorry about the length between chapters. If you worked at Save Mart you would understand I swear.
XXXXX
Chapter Ten: Stepford Wives and Fifties Clichés Pt. II
"What happened?"
"I don't know."
"Is she all right?"
"I don't know!"
"Mom?"
The voices drifted through like a fog, causing Myka's heart swell but her mind to reel back, rejecting something that rested just on the periphery of her knowledge.
"Get the girls back. I'll get her to the couch."
"Are you sure?"
"Mom!"
"Dexter, just get them back!"
Christina was crying.
That's all that would register in her fogged up head. Then a feeling of lightness, and a vague awareness of the world shifting, being moved around her. Combined, these things were causing her to rouse. She didn't like that, didn't want it. She knew there was a danger in waking, there was pain in awareness that she wasn't quite ready to deal with just yet.
She rolled away from the light that penetrated her closed eyes, turning her world red, away from the noises that caused her to cringe. A warming comfort welcomed her, pulling her in closer and filling her with peace.
Myka breathed in the familiar scent that sent sparks through her heart. She smiled, seeking it out more, the memories attached to this scent waking her mush more gently than the harsh noises from before.
She slowly became aware of her body, her surroundings.
The tingling through her skull- fingers trailing softly through her hair. The warmth of another body clinging so tightly to hers. A low rumbling close to her ear- someone speaking under their breath. That particular sound did interesting things to her body- sending shivers down her spine and making her shiver.
"Myka?" the voice spoke softly, the fingers in her hair stilling.
Myka opened her eyes, groaning in protest, but froze when their eyes met.
Helena.
"Hey." Myka croaked, her voice nearly inaudible.
"Hello." Helena replied with a smirk, though her eyes were still misted with tears unshed, "You gave me quite the start."
"I'm sorry." Myka responded, swallowing thickly, infusing those words with more weight and meaning than a simple apology for fainting.
Myka tried to sit up, her awareness bringing a sense of urgency that something- everything - needed to be fixed. It wasn't right. Helena shouldn't be here, shouldn't be kissing Dexter. She and Christina couldn't be living there. This wasn't their place.
"Whoa, careful there, darling." Helena put her hand on Myka's shoulder, steadying her when the vertigo hit.
"I'm alright," Myka assured her.
"You don't look very well," Helena pointed out, her hand brushing locks back from Myka's face, "Are you're alright?"
Even as Myka nodded, she had to fight a wave of dizziness that rolled over her, "Helena, what's going on?" she asked, leaning into the lingering touch on her cheek.
"I don't know what you're talking about," HG blushed, dropping her hand at last, pulling further away from Myka.
"You've got to be kidding me," Myka shook her head, "All of this," she gestured to Dexter's house, "None of this seems strange to you?"
"Of course not, why would it?" arms crossed over her chest, her thumb nail in her mouth- she was hiding something, Myka was sure of it.
"Come on, HG, you can't be serious, what are you doing here with him? Is this some sort of trick? Are you angry with me? Because this is no way to handle it." Myka shook her head.
"What am I- Myka, he is my husband, where should I be?" Helena wasn't meeting her gaze.
"Your husband?" Myka nearly chocked on the word, it was then she noticed the ring adorning Helena's third finger. It was her ring, the one she had left for Helena, "And just how long have you two been married?" heat filled her voice as something a bit stronger than jealously pulsed through her veins. Myka had never been possessive before, but now it was pounding in her head.
"Um, a while," her face twisted into confusion, and Myka could see her struggling to remember, but quickly grow frustrated, "You know."
And a thought hit Myka, an idea not that farfetched when you considered their line of work. This was some artifact, messing with them. Making them believe what they were saying. Well, Myka was just going to have to shatter that belief.
"Oh, is that so?" Myka pushed, "Then tell me, Helena, when's your anniversary? Hm? When's his birthday? Where did you two meet? What is he allergic to?"
"I don't know," HG stood up and began to slightly pace back and forth, "Everything has been a sort of fog lately…"
"Why don't you two have any wedding photos up? Or any photos of the four of you at all?" Myka went on.
"I don't know." Helena said more aggressively, keeping her eyes focused on her quickening feet, "I don't like photographs. Or- or-,"
"Why were none of your things here? Why can't you remember anything about Dexter or Danni or anything that you should?" Myka was also on her feet now.
"I don't know!" she stopped her movements, finally looking- well, glaring- at Myka.
"I can tell you why," Myka stepped towards her, "Because you don't belong here. Dexter isn't your husband, you guys aren't even really friends. I don't know what's going on, but this, this isn't right."
"And how do you know that?" HG demanded, "How is it you think you know what's going on?"
"The same way I know that your body is torn right now," Myka stepped towards her, "Part of you wants to yell and get mad at me, another part wants to grab me, to kiss me. Am I right?" Helena didn't respond, but a blush colored her features, "I know you don't love him because you love me."
"Don't be absurd Myka," Helena turned away from her, missing the hurt that flashed across her face, "You and I are just- we're friends Myka. Nothing more. To insinuate that we are more is- is-," she seemed at a loss for words.
"Friends?" Myka scoffed, shaking her head and moving closer to Helena once more until she was standing directly behind her, "Tell me this Helena, would a friend know how soft your skin is?" she trailed her fingers lightly down Helena's arm, causing the other woman to start slightly. But she didn't pull away- and encouraging sign as far as Myka was concerned.
"Would they be able to tell by a word, but a sound, exactly what you wanted without you having to ask?" Myka kept her voice low, steady, as her hands ran down HG's back, thumbs pressing lightly along her spine, until she reached her hips and was able to wrap her fingers around them, Helena's breathing hitched as she leaned into the touch.
Myka pulled Helena closer to her, leaning in to whisper into her ear, "would they know just where to touch, where to kiss, to drive you absolutely insane?" she let her lips brush the Shell of Helena's ear, causing the other woman to release a small sound, something between a whimper and a moan.
Myka moved around so they faced one another, using the hand still resting on Helena's hip to pull them flush against each other. Helena's hands went to Myka's arms, not pulling her closer, but not pushing her away either, just there to make sure the woman before her was solid, that this was actually happening.
"A friend wouldn't remember in vivid detail what it's like to kiss you," she let her eyes wander slowly down HG's frame, "Everywhere? Wouldn't crave a taste after it had been so long…"
Their lips met, it was hesitant, shy, a mere brushing of mouths, nowhere near enough to satisfy either woman, and yet Helena pulled back, finally pushing Myka away from her.
"Helena-," Myka shook her head, trying to clear it, to catch up.
"We can't," Helena crossed her arms, shoulders seeming to hunch in on themselves, seeming so unlike the woman Myka knew, "I can't, Myka. Don't you get it? I'm married. To Dexter. And whether or not it's where I belong, no matter what I may feel for you, it isn't right. It isn't how the world works.
"Helena," Myka reached out for her, only for the other woman to step out of her reach.
"I need you to leave," HG insisted.
"But-,"
"Now, please," her face was angry, but she seemed on the verge of tears, and Myka most certainly did not want to leave, but Helena wasn't going to give her much of a choice.
"Fine," Myka put her hands up, stepping backwards towards the front door, "I'll leave. But Helena, I'm going to figure out what is going on here, and I'm going to fix it. When I do, you find me."
Helena didn't say anything, just let Myka walk out the door before she let the sob escape her lips.
Myka was half way down the walk when she heard the back gate slam on it's hinges, "You're leaving?" a small, desperate, tear drenched voice called out.
Myka spun, automatically crouching to catch the running Christina in her arms, holding her close, "Shh, kiddo, it'll be okay."
"Why are you leaving?" Christina demanded, voice muffled by Myka's shoulder, "I thought you would fix it! I just want to go home. Please, Mom, please can we go home?"
"I'm trying, sweetie, I'm trying, I promise," Myka rubbed her back, "I'm going to figure out what's going on and I'm going to fix it. I need your help though, can you do that? Can you help me?"
Christna pulled back, sniffling and rubbing her nose on the back of her hand, but she gave a small nod.
"Okay, can you tell me when this all started? When did everyone start acting weird?"
"Right after you left," she hiccupped, "Everyone was yelling 'coz you were gone. Mum thought you might have come here since you and Mr. West are friends, but when we got here, Mum started to feel dizzy, and Danni, too. That's when everything got all wonky, and them Mum and Dexter started acting like how Dad and Emily act. And everytime I try to talk to someone, to ask what is happening they all look at me like I'm crazy!" the tears started to fall once more, and Myka was quick to wipe them away.
Clearly there was an artifact in play, that much was obvious to the agent. An artifact that seemed to be effecting everyone except Christina, which had to mean-
"Christina, I need you to tell me something, it's very important," Myka looked her daughter in the eye, waiting for the girl to nod with her, "Did you take something from the Warehouse? I won't be mad, and you won't get in trouble, but it is very important that I know."
Myka saw the guilt fill the girl's features, "I just wanted to show Danni, so we could hunt real curiosities together. I wanted to show her all the cool stuff you and Mummy do."
Myka breathed carefully through her nose and out her mouth, trying to control her emotions, "What did you take?"
"It was just a doll," She shook her head, "A really old one."
"Okay, where is it now, Christina?" Myka asked slowly, unsure of which doll Christina had gotten her hands on. She knew of several very dangerous ones that lived on the shelves of the warehouse, and her skin crawled to think what would have happened if Christina had chosen one of those instead.
"I brought it to school with me, Mrs. Johnson took it away from me. She said we weren't supposed to take toys to school."
Damn that woman, Myka groaned.
None of what Christina was telling her was making any sense. School had been let out weeks ago. And if Chrisitna didn't even have the artifact anymore, why were the effects only happening now? Did her leaving have something to do with it?
"I need to go get it back from the teacher, but I promise, this is all almost over." Myka kissed the girl's forehead.
"And then we can go home?" she asked hopefully, looking up as Myka rose.
"And then we can go home." Myka nodded.
XXXXX
Myka drove to the school, ignoring the dirty looks she was receiving from pedestrians. There were things in her car she needed- the static bags and purple gloves, a canister of purple goo just in case.
She parked in the space closest to Christina's old classroom, easy enough in the empty parking lot. She mentally went over the steps Helena had taught her to pick a lock as she quickly strode across the short lawn.
The refresher turned out to be unnecessary, because when she grabbed the handle, the doo pulled easily open. Myka's brain short circuited with the scene she was presented with. Mrs. Jonson sat at a table in the back of the classroom surrounded by a mountain of papers, and sitting next to her, a pencil in her mouth as she typed away on a laptop, was Claudia.
"Uh," Myka blinked.
"Oh, hey Miss B." Claudia nodded at her with a smile, causing Mrs. Johnson to look up at her as well.
"Hey, Claud, what, uh, whatcha doing?" she stepped further into the classroom.
"A teacher's work is never done, right Ms. Donovan?" Mrs. Johnson answered, "Claudia is helping me as she works on her masters in teaching. School has been out for a few weeks now, but there is still so much to do to close out the year. Not to mention prep for next year's students."
"Riiiight." Myka nodded, not bothering to bring up all the degrees Claudia already held, this wasn't the weirdest thing she'd seen on this seriously messed up day, and hopefully it would all be over soon anyhow. "I, um, came to collect Christina Well's file and paperwork."
"Christina Wells?" Mrs. Johnson made a face, "Oh, you must mean Christina West. You must be Mr. and Mrs. West's new nanny."
"I'm more of a tutor, really," Myka went with it, wanting to ge ton with it, "And Dex- Mr. West sent me to collect his daughters' files and personal effects from the year. I believe Christina mentioned something about a doll?"
"Right," the teacher stood, walking to her desk in the front of the class room, "That raggedy old thing. If I've told her once I have told her a hundred times not to bring her toys to school, but that girl never minds."
Myka put her gloves on discreetly, "We'll be sure to work on that," she mumbled with an eye roll.
The doll produced from the desk drawer seemed unassuming, and the teacher dropped it quickly into Myka's waiting hand, "Glad to be rid of it honestly. When I wrote the report up on it a couple weeks ago, it gave me an odd feeling. But then again, that Christina is an odd girl. I remember wishing she could finally see the world how it should be, instead of living in this fantasy world all the time." She shook her head, walking back to the table where Claudia was still typing madly away.
"If you'll excuse me, we do have so much work to do." Mrs. Johnson gave a dismissive wave of her hand in the direction of the door.
Myka didn't pay her any mind, walking in a daze out the door, letting her feet take her away without thinking. Because the object in her hand wasn't just a doll.
She held the limp doll in her gloved hand. She could still see the faded marks beneath the mismatched button eyes. A child's hand had drawn in the original features. She traced the careful stitching that was finally giving away after a hundred years. The faded clothes, stitched together from old curtain and table cloth swatches. Myka held it, and Myka stared, but she still could not comprehend how something so small, so deceptively benign could have taken one small misplaced wish and used it to turn her world on it's head.
It was the original Raggedy Ann doll, having belonged to Marcella Gruelle. She knew the story, forwards and backwards, she knew the girl found it while exploring her grandmother's attic. This small doll sparked her father's imagination to create hundreds of Raggedy Ann dolls and cartoons and stories. She knew that Marcella had gotten sick, had died clutching this doll at 13, wishing to not die, but to stay with her father. This wish infusing the unassuming toy with a specific power of wish granting.
Myka dropped the doll into the static bag, ducking as sparks flew, feeling the weight of everything fall on her at last, now that the mystery was solved. She was suddenly so very tired. She glanced up, realizing she had wandered into the school's playground, she let her feet drag her to the swing set, collapsing gratefully on to the hard plastic seat.
She leaned her head on the chains, intending to close her eyes, if only for a moment. Only to gather the strength to get up and return to the B&B for her second homecoming. She was just so tired.
"Myka?"
Or not, Myka sighed as she opened her eyes, watching as Claudia strode towards her, jaw dropped, eyes glazed slightly. The effects of the doll clearly gone.
"Claud-," Myka began, but was cut off as her face exploded in a sharp, stinging pain.
Claudia had slapped her, her chest still heaving with anger.
Myka touched her hot cheek, glancing up at her friend once more, trying to speak again, "Claudia-,"
But she was tackled with a hug, nearly knocking her off the swings from the force of it, but Claudia's crushing embrace kept her steady, "Don't you ever do that to us again." She growled through teeth.
"I won't." Myka finally gained enough sense to return the hug, "I'm done running."