11
Myka drove across the dirt road, a cloud of dust obliterating everything in her rearview. Tears streamed down her cheeks—the first she had let herself shed. She'd left everything she loved, and the thing she'd loved the most had ruined her. She slammed on the brakes as she came upon the asphalt of the two lane highway.
How much of it had been a lie?
It couldn't all have been... It had to have been real; she had to have loved her. But did that make it better or worse? To have loved someone who had only pretended to feel the same, or to have been betrayed by someone who had truly loved you?
Which was worse?
Myka knew the truth. She felt it stinging in her chest, a keen burning in her heart. She pounded her hands against the steering wheel and sobbed. "I still love you," she cried out through the tears.
She had wanted so much to say those words to her. But she couldn't bring them to her lips. They had stuck, heavy and bittersweet, in her throat. So Myka had stood in stoic silence avoiding even eye contact with her secret lover, incapable of looking in those dark, sad eyes and having to feign hatred. She couldn't do it, because after everything, Myka still loved Helena.
He was too late. Dust kicked up behind her, swallowing the car as Myka drove off. She was gone and he hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. Pete slumped, leaning back against Artie's car. His world was crumbling, and he was powerless to do anything.
Pete trudged the seemingly endless walk to Artie's office. Everyone sat in silence, shocked and wounded. Mrs. Frederic handed Pete Myka's letter without a word. He collapsed in a chair and the paper fell from his hand. "She's gone."
Helena rode in the back seat. Two guards were in the front; the one in the passenger seat kept glancing at her in the mirror. She stared out the window, watching the landscape unfold. Her mind subconsciously listed the dozens of ways she could escape, but she acted on none of them. She sat passive, defeated, her life was in ruin—her fight was gone.
They pulled into an airport and onto the runway, stopping beside a small plane. Panic fell upon her—not an airplane. She thought of Myka, the way she'd held her close when they flew to London and the flight home. Her fear subsided, she would have to be strong on her own this time. The guards pulled her from the car and escorted her onto the plane, watching her closely. She heard the crunch of tires as another car pulled up. A door shut, and she could hear soft footsteps on asphalt, then the clack of leather soles on the stairs of the plane. Adwin Kosan entered the plane and sat across from Helena. The guards left and the sound of tires faded in the distance as the engines roared to life. Helena watched the ground recede, searching for the Warehouse, desperate for one last glimpse of her connection to the woman she loved.
She could not see it.
A mountainous, snow-covered landscape enveloped Helena's view.
"Where are you taking me?" Her voice was low and meek.
Kosan looked up from the file in his lap. "Some place where you can do no harm."
"Does My—," she stopped herself. "Do my former coworkers know?"
"No." His tone was one that forbade further discussion on the topic.
Helena sighed and lifted her cuffed hands towards the man. "Are these absolutely necessary?"
Kosan looked at her carefully, calculating. "I suppose not." He pulled a small key from the inside pocket of his jacket and unlocked the handcuffs.
Helena rubbed her wrists and ran her hands through her hair. "Thank you," she said softly. She stared out the window at the snowy emptiness expanding on to the very reaches of the horizon for a long moment before finally asking in a quiet voice, "Would you tell her..." Tell her what? I'm sorry? Would Myka even forgive her? Tell her I love her? Those were the words she really wanted to say, but no one could know. And how could she tell Myka she loved her through another person? Helena grimaced ever so slightly. "Tell her—them—nothing." She returned her gaze to the window, wiping away a tear.
"I forgive you, Helena. I'll always forgive you." Myka embraced Helena, holding her as close and tight as possible.
Helena took Myka's face in her hands and kissed her deep. "I'm so incredibly sorry, Myka. My dear, sweet Myka. I love you."
"I love you too, Helena."
Helena jerked awake as the plane landed. For the briefest of moments she was happy. Then reality crashed down around her. Her heart broke and she nearly burst into tears from the pain. Why must one's dreams be so terribly beautiful?
The plane taxied down the runway and up to a small facility.
"Come with me," Kosan ordered.
Helena stepped out of the aircraft into an unexpected chill. A woman met them outside the building, and looked Helena up and down. She turned to Kosan. "How long is she to be here for?"
"Indefinitely," he responded, dragging the last of Helena's hope into the darkest depths.
"So you're to be my caretaker," Helena asked.
"I'm to be your warden." The woman exhaled heavily. "For my time at least." She sneered at Helena with an uncomfortable pinch in her lips.
"She is remanded into your custody. You've read her file?" Kosan looked at Helena, searching for any glint of malicious intentions in her eyes.
"Yes." The woman's gaze lingered on Helena. With a dismissive shake of her head, she looked up at Kosan. "I have."
"This is everything relevant to her betrayal." Kosan handed the woman a folder. "Good luck." He nodded to the woman and glanced at Helena.
He turned back to the plane—Helena grabbed his arm and he stopped, staring at her. She dropped her hand. "Thank you." She paused. "For not bronzing me again."
"It hardly solved anything the previous time."
Helena cringed slightly. "I'm still grateful to not have to live an eternity encased in bronze, no matter my crimes."
"Do not make me regret this mercy." Helena nodded weakly and Kosan ascended the steps into the plane.
"Have you eaten?" The woman's stern voice cut through the cold, thick air.
"No, I haven't"
"We can stop in the kitchen before I lead you to your quarters."
"I would appreciate it, thank you."
"Make no mistake Ms. Wells, this is not hospitality. This facility is to be your prison, and a warden must care for her prisoners." She began walking toward the building, fully expecting Helena to follow. "Before you even begin to think of escape, there is nowhere to go. This is an island."
Helena followed the cold woman, sighing. She hadn't planned on making any attempts to leave—she deserved her punishment. Not for what she'd nearly done to the world, but for what she had done to Myka. The world and all its people had come through unscathed, but Helena had stared into those green eyes tinged with gold and she had seen, Myka had been destroyed. There could be no worse punishment than that moment, seeing that pain in Myka's eyes. So Helena would accept whatever they would subject her to. She followed her warden to what would be her very own house of pain.
Myka stood on the sidewalk, watching through the shop windowas her father rang up a customer. Myka could tell from the green leather binding what book the woman was buying. She sighed heavily. If they came looking for her this would be the first place they'd look. But she had nowhere else to go. As the customer left, Myka squared her shoulders and stepped through the door. "Hi, Dad."
Warren looked up with a concerned expression. He smiled broad when he saw his daughter. "Myka." He came around the counter to hug her. "What are you doing here?"
She frowned. "Dad, I... I need a place to stay."
He came round the counter and hugged her. "Of course, of course. Your room's just fine. Do you need help getting anything upstairs?"
Myka smiled back. "No, it's okay Dad, I didn't bring much."
"Is everything okay with work?" His forehead wrinkled with concern.
Myka took a deep breath. "Actually, I quit. I was hoping you'd let me work here. At least for a while."
Her father's brow furrowed deeper, but he smiled softly. "That's not a problem, there's always work to be done."
"Is Mom here?" Myka looked around the store.
"She's around here somewhere." Warren waved an arm toward the back of the shop.
"Thank you. I think I'm going to rest, it was a long drive."
He nodded. "I'll let your mother know you're here."
Myka smiled at him and went upstairs to her old bedroom. Everything was still neatly arranged with no hint of dust. Her old books still lined her bookshelf. She pulled open the desk drawer, the red notebook was still there. The corners of her lips twitched upward; her father was not the only one who'd tried to write a book. Though hers was hardly an accomplishment, written when she was a young teen. Maybe she would show it to Helena one day.
Myka cringed at the pain in her chest. She would never see Helena again. Or even know where she was. Myka changed into fresh clothes and laid down on her bed to nap, hoping to banish all thoughts of her lost love and the life she left behind.
Helena studied Dr. Holmes as they ate.
She was an average woman in most regards. Average height, not strikingly beautiful, but still attractive in her own right. Her dusky brown hair was cropped short around her face and she wore minimal makeup, only a dusting of rouge over the cheeks and some mascara. Her grey suit was well-made, but not expensive and had been tailored—or purchased, Helena told herself, off-the-rack was more common these days—before she had put on the extra ten pounds she now carried. Her nails were manicured, but short and she wore no ring. Her hands looked soft, except for a callous on the last knuckle on her middle finger—she was a writer.
"You know, I convinced Arthur to use the name Sherlock. He had originally chosen the name Henry Blackwood. I told him it was simply too mundane."
Dr. Holmes swallowed and stated flatly, "How pleasant for you."
"You don't like me much, do you?"
The woman was quiet for a long moment before answering. "I loathe arrogance. And you, Ms. Wells, are arrogant. Presuming to judge the world, a world to which you do not belong, by your own standards. What makes you worthy of such an act? What makes you better than the rest of us?" Dr. Holmes stood abruptly and leaned over the table, a small golden cross fell loose from inside her blouse. "What makes you think you are the only one who knows pain?"
Helena said nothing. What could she say? She had no excuse, no defense.
"You're right. That is why I am here." Dr. Holmes' expression softened and she sat back down.
"You envy me, don't you?" The woman glared at her. "You envy that I got so close. You wanted to do it, but you couldn't, you didn't have the strength. But I did."
"You did—almost. And now you're in exile here," she said coolly.
"Technically we're both here," Helena smirked.
"We all have our punishments, don't we?"
Helena was intrigued.
Myka leaned against the balcony doorway, smiling softly as she stared out over the city. The Egyptian air was warm and dry, a light breeze gently tousling her curls. The sun was sinking toward the horizon to her left, bathing the pale stones and concrete a bright, deep red.
Helena slunk up behind her silently, slipping her arms around Myka's waist and kissing her bare shoulder. "Hello, darling."
"Mmm." Myka leaned back into Helena as she rested her chin on Myka's shoulder. "Hi," she smiled.
"A beautiful view, isn't it?"
"Mhmm. It's so hot in the day, but the weather now is just perfect."
Helena chuckled low and deep in the back of her throat. "I can think of a way to make it even better." She kissed Myka's neck and ran her hand down Myka's stomach, teasing her fingers just beneath the waist of her shorts.
Myka rolled her head to the side as Helena kissed and nipped up under her jaw. "You make an excellent point."
Helena slid her hand inside Myka's clothes and between her thighs, rubbing her fingers slowly and softly against her. She curled her tongue around Myka's earlobe. "Do I have to convince you to come to bed?"
A small moan escaped Myka's throat. "No." She rocked her hips against Helena's hand.
"Good. Because I want to taste you on my lips." Helena pulled her hand from Myka's shorts and sucked her fingers as she stepped back to the bed. Myka turned and her breath caught—Helena was naked. She took a shallow breath and followed, moving her long legs slowly. Helena sat on the edge of the bed, staring with wild eyes at those legs. Myka undid her pants. "No," Helena said thickly. "Let me."
Myka stood between Helena's legs. "Please do."
Helena slipped her hands under Myka's shirt and looked up at her with a dark fire in her eyes. Myka shuddered—she would never get used to the desire she saw in Helena's eyes. She pushed Myka's shirt up and kissed her bare stomach as Myka ran her hand through Helena's silken hair. Helena slowly pulled down Myka's zipper, kissing the skin just above the waistband of Myka's underwear; Myka's fingers curled slightly in her hair. Helena traced her hands along Myka's spine, undressing Myka as her fingers ran down the curve of her ass. She felt Myka's muscles twitch under her touch as Helena pushed Myka's clothes down her legs until they fell to the floor.
Myka gasped and rolled her hips forward. "Patience, darling." Helena kissed just above Myka's navel as she stood, running her hands up Myka's back and lifting her shirt over her head. Myka wrapped her arms around Helena's small waist and pulled her close, kissing her deep. Helena unhooked Myka's bra and pulled it from her body, dropping it among the rest of Myka's clothes. She gripped at Myka's hips, turning her around and pushing her back onto the bed.
Helena climbed up Myka's body with a predatory look; Myka whimpered, happy to be her prey. She stretched her body over Myka's, nudging her thighs apart with her knees, settling between them. Helena took Myka's lip between her teeth, fluttering her tongue over the captive skin. Myka raked her nails up Helena's back, making her writhe her hips down against Myka as she squeezed her breasts, pinching and tugging at her nipples. Myka bucked her hips. She pulled at Helena's hair and grabbed her ass, pulling Helena against her. "Helena, please."
Helena sucked Myka's nipple, swirling her tongue around it. "Yes, my darling Myka." She bit down on the delicate flesh and pulled until it slipped from her teeth as she slid down Myka's lithe body. Helena ran her hands up Myka's thighs, spreading her legs gently. She kissed down Myka's stomach, inching her way down. When she reached the apex of Myka's thighs, Helena wrapped her arms around her legs. She pressed close, kissing Myka softly, and ran the length of her tongue over Myka's clit.
"Oh god," Myka gasped.
Helena purred against her, falling into a rhythm, lapping with the rise and fall of Myka's hips. Myka moaned and her hips jerk harder and faster. Helena pulled Myka closer, holding her thighs tighter and circling her tongue around Myka's clit. Myka gripped at Helena's hair, tugging at the roots. Her moans grew louder as Helena's tongue moved faster. Helena sucked Myka's clit between her lips, rolling the flat of her tongue up and down her clit. Myka pulled harder at Helena's hair, stilling her hips. Helena sucked harder, flicking the tip of her tongue over Myka's clit. Myka cried Helena's name as she came.
"Helena." Myka jerked awake as she muttered the name. It was a dream. More than a dream, it was a memory. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Why did her mind play such cruel tricks? Myka gripped the comforter and cried quietly into her pillow.
When her tears were spent she looked at the clock. It was after midnight; she had slept through dinner. She lay in bed, soaking in the calm quiet. It had been so long since she'd known such stillness. For once, she felt alone and it comforted her. She would clothe herself in solitude and let it be her armor. She climbed under the sheets and slept a dreamless sleep.
Dr. Holmes led Helena from the dining area down a bare corridor. "You will remain in your quarters unless escorted. You will have a strict schedule every day that will be followed to the T. We have a library and computer that you will have limited access to. Everything you do will be strictly monitored and you will be under constant, vigilant guard whenever you are outside your room."
They stopped at an open door. "As I said before, there is nowhere to go here, escape attempts would be extremely ill-advised." Dr. Holmes extended her arm through the doorway. "This is where you will stay. Any requests will be taken under consideration. Rewards must be earned. It's late, I suggest you rest."
Helena entered the spartan room that was now her entire world. Dr. Holmes pulled the door closed and locked it. As the sound of her heels faded down the hall a heavy silence fell upon her. She surveyed the room—smooth white walls, white sheets on a small bed, a TV hung from the ceiling in the corner opposite it. There was a small steel desk bolted to the wall with a rigid-looking chair. The desk had paper and a pen on it; at least they had given her that. Helena ran her finger down the length of the pen. Would they let her write to Myka? Would Myka even want her to? Beside the bed was a small dresser with a clock on top. The time glowed red, 10:17. To her right was a bathroom. It had the most basic of toiletries, but she had all she would need.
She walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Inside were a handful of shirts and a few pairs of pants. The next had underwear and socks and the bottom two sets of pajamas. All were hers from her room. She examined the clothes more closely and realized that nothing had been in Myka's room. Myka's favorite blue shirt of hers must still hang in her closet. Helena flashed a small, sad smile at the thought of some part of her still being in Myka's life.
Helena changed, folding her clothes neatly on top of the dresser. She climbed into bed and opened her locket. She gazed first at the picture of Christina, a wound that would never heal. She gently touched the other photo tucked inside, held always so close to her heart—one of Myka. She traced the curve of Myka's cheek and imagined the warm softness of her skin and the way she would lean into Helena's touch; ran her finger over her shining smile and remembered the gentle caress of her kiss, shy and passionate. Helena clutched the locket close to her chest and in the empty darkness sobbed quietly.