"Did you just shoot me?!"

Oh bollocks. "No, oh no. Myka, darling. That was an accident." The engine revved and Helena put her hands up in surrender. "An accident!" She called out again. "Come on, Myka. We can just stop for a second and talk about this. Myka? Myka?"

That was the last coherent thought that went through Helena's brain, because the next thing she knew, Myka was accelerating towards.

Helena was shouting something vaguely exclamatory and apologetic when it occurred to her that her wife was not going to stop, and with milliseconds to spare, she threw herself sideways, tucking her body into a neat roll out of harm's way. She felt a whip of air ruffle her body as the car passed her by, her heart beating loudly beneath her ribs and breathed out a heavy sigh when it appeared that Myka was not coming back. She picked herself up brushed down her sides, the tail lights of Myka's car burning into her eyes. She sighed again, considering the options she had now. She knew where Myka was headed. There was only one place her wife would go, only one person she trusted, but Helena would not risk going to Pete's, unarmed and underprepared. She desperately needed to talk to Myka, or perhaps she just needed to get this over with – eliminate the target – but either way, it would wait until morning. Claudia was about to get another rude interruption, she mused.

Myka slammed her fist against the metal mesh in front of her, taking out her mess of emotions of the unsuspecting door.

"Pete? Open up!" She yelled, throwing out her usual polite concern for her partner's neighbours. She rattled the gate again, only stopping when she heard a muffled alright, alright! coming from inside.

Pete's face eventually appeared, shadowy in the glow of the street lights. He was in his boxers and a college football shirt, looking half asleep. "What the hell, Mykes? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"It's Helena."

Pete rolled his eyes. "Did you guys have a domestic? Seriously, sometimes I wonder why you're still-"

"She's the shooter."

There was silence as Pete opened and closed his mouth, a fish out of water.

"That's not possible."

"Yes, trust me, it is."

"But you're married-"

"Yes."

"And she's the one-"

"Yes."

"But that means-"

"I know."

"But this whole time you've been together, she's been-"

"Yes."

"So you've got to-"

"Yes." Myka sighed, resisting the urge to push a hand though her hair. The thought of that gesture bringing up unwanted feelings about her wife. My assassin-of-a-wife. "May I come in?"

Pete nodded, stepping aside to let her pass. He snuck a cautious glance up and down the street before shutting the door and locking it shut. No sleep for me tonight.

Claudia was still awake, to Helena's initial surprise. Awake and expecting her.

The flat door was unlocked, and when Helena waltzed in, Claudia barely looked up from her laptop screen, instead muttering a terse, "I wondered when you'd show up."

Helena frowned. "You knew?"

Claudia shrugged. "You flew out of here this morning like someone had stuck a rod up your you-know-what," Helena opened her mouth to object to her young partner's choice of language, but Claudia was already moving on. "So I tracked your cell and ran crosschecks on the address I pulled against your known associates, and lo and behold, who should come up but your lovely wife?"

Helena flinched.

"So, when you showed up at her work place, I tapped into your calls." Claudia said, unapologetic. "Quite the dinner, I expect?"

Helena couldn't help the small proud smile on her face. She couldn't be annoyed at Claudia for her invasion of privacy, when she was impressed. "You have no idea."

Claudia just nodded, finally turning and looking over at her friend. They watched each other for a few seconds before Helena finally spoke.

"Have you informed anyone of the shooter's true identity?"

There was silence for a beat, before Claudia scoffed. "No. You've still got, what, just over 36 of your allotted hours before the agency steps in? I don't see any reason to report it until then."

The red-head avoided Helena's eyes, but the older agent knew the risk her tech genius was taking in not telling Mrs. Frederic and the powers above straight away, and felt a surge of affection for the girl. "Thank you." She murmured, her voice conveying her gratitude.

Claudia shrugged again, turning back to the laptop. "You'd do the same. Well, I hope you would if you found out that my imaginary wife was actually a contract killer out to kill me."

Helena barked out a hollow laugh.

"D'you know where she is now? I don't want her turning up on my doorstep fully loaded."

"She'll have gone to Pete, I'm sure. And if she's half the agent I think she is, she won't do anything until tomorrow. Goodness, if she's anything at all like the Myka I married, there'll be an entire strategy to enforce before she comes after me personally."

"Then you'll take the fight to her? I only ask, because you when I say the agency will step in, that's just a nice way of saying you're toast if they catch you once your window's up."

Helena squeezed her eyes shut as Claudia confirmed what she already knew.

"I guess I must, as you put it, take the fight to her."

Claudia gave her a sympathetic smile. "You wanna, uh- talk about this?" She tried.

Helena laughed then, a true laugh. "No dear, it's alright. I'll spare you the inner workings of my conscience." Claudia visibly relaxed. "I take it you have a little more information about my dearest wife than I have, though?"

Claudia swung about on her chair, back to business. "Not a lot, your wife is a ghost."

Much like me. Helena thought, crossing over to where Claudia had pulled up several case files onto her expanse of monitors.

"After I realised it was Myka, I ran a programme to search through hits dating back 10 years, cross referencing techniques, associates, locations etc. It's not a lot, hell, I can't even be sure that half of these hits are hers, but you can take a look, maybe you'll know better." Claudia gestured to the screens. "I'm going to go to bed, unless you need anything else? You can fill me in on whatever spontaneous action plan you come up with in the morning."

Claudia might have said more, but Helena had already tuned out. Her eyes flickering over the computer, absorbing newspaper reports, classified files, times, dates, kills, operations, set-ups, framings, murders, accidents. Claudia had done an excellent job in finding all these files. Files that all screamed Myka. Helena sighed and settled down in the abandoned chair. Selecting the first file, code name: Bloodstone, she began to read.

Morning came far too soon for Myka's liking. She was stretched out front first on Pete's couch. Her friend had eventually gone to bed, but only after giving Myka a shotgun to keep under her blanket, and after voicing every fear and worry that Myka had encountered after discovering that Helena was her hit. Myka had spent the night replaying every moment she had spent with her wife, trying to see though the lies, wondering if any of it had been real. It doesn't matter now. She thought. She's just another problem that needs to be dealt with. She sighed, and wriggled out of the blanket, wincing as her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. First port of call was caffeine. She had barely slept what with her mind working in overdrive, and she doubted there would be time to rest today.

With two steaming mugs in hand, she went and nudged Pete's door open, finding her partner passed out in a bundle of duvet, gun gripped in hand. She put one cup down, eased the gun out of his right hand, and nudged him with it.

"Pete?"

An unintelligible grumble came from the pillow.

"Pete?" Myka tried again, shaking him this time.

"What do you-" Pete didn't finish the sentence, instead suddenly coming-to all at once, arms flailing as he scrambled backwards. "Holy crap, Myka! Do not wake me up like that! I thought you were Helena. I could have shot you!"

Myka snorted and held up his gun. "With this weapon? The one I'm holding?"

Pete sighed. "Whatever. You're not allowed to give me a premature heart attack. I'm the only person in the world who gets your situation, remember?"

Myka rolled her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic." She said, handing him a mug of coffee and getting a nod of thanks in return. "And hurry up and get dressed. We've got just under 24 hours and counting to sort this mess out, and I'd rather you were wearing clothes for it."

"Alright, so what's the plan, boss-lady?"

Myka swallowed a mouthful of coffee, letting the hot bitter liquid calm her stomach. "We pack up, call in for some back up to canvas the house, take it to pieces." Myka ignored the heavy beat of her heart. "We got a new target."

She'd pulled Pete half dressed, out of his flat with the promise of pastries at the weekend, and had called Jane and Abigail to bring the equipment she needed to clear the scene. By 9am they were at the house. It looked exactly as it always did. Oversized for just the two of them, with a detached air about it. There was no sign of Helena, but then Myka had not expected to find her here. They swept the house, shredding, bin bagging, burning all evidence of Myka's existence, and collecting any evidence of Helena's. She realised, as she and her partners traipsed through her house, that neither her nor her wife had many personal belongings. No photos, besides the two of them on their wedding day and honeymoon. No knick-knacks, souvenirs, artifacts of any kind. The only thing Helena had of her own were a few battered books, classic sci-fi novels. Dune by Frank Herbert. She must have seen Helena reading it a dozen times, feet curled under her legs, glasses on her nose. She shook that image from her mind with a quick blink of her eyes as Pete came out of their bedroom, a bin bag in one hand and a giant stuffed teddy in the other.

"What's the verdict on this guy?" He asked, wiggling the pudgy teddy arms out towards her. "Are we keeping this cutie?"

Myka swallowed the lump in her throat as another flashback hit her. Walking along the festival streets, Helena's arm around her waist, kissing Helena's neck, Helena's smug smile at the shooting stall, Helena handing her the teddy, the desire on Helena's face when Myka whispered 'you are mine'.

"Mykes?"

"Hmm?" Myka lifted her eyes to look at Pete.

"Are we binning him? Shredding him? Maybe there's a hidden camera in here somewhere…"

As Pete began manhandling the toy, Myka bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from telling him to lay off.

"Bin it." She said eventually, and then, before Pete could question the flush rising up her throat or the slight redness in her eyes, she brushed past him towards the stairs.

The rest of the house littered with more bags, Jane and Abigail having covered the ground floor. She gave them a curt nod, and then fled the house. The fresh air hit her lungs and she took a steadying breath, trying to remind herself that this was just another job, nothing to panic over. She would give Helena the ultimatum. Leave town and disappear, or be dealt with, permanently.