Metamorphosis

In the time it took Myka to get a dress and a bottle of wine, Helena had managed to test the patience of, not one, but two women... and a dozen eggs.

"In the bowl," Irene repeated and Helena looked at her.

"Do you honestly believe I am aiming for the outside?" the doctor quipped.

"It takes practice," Irene smiled and handed her the next attempt.

"It takes patience, as far as I am concerned, and I'm running on empty," Helena announced.

"With the wrist, Helena; with the wrist," Irene ignored her and demonstrated again what the motion should be like.

Helena turned back and concentrated, all the time thinking how much easier it would be if this woman just did it. In spite of that thought, the thirteenth try was a charm.

"You did it!" Irene said, amazed and relieved.

"Yes!" Helena said, equally pleased. "I did indeed!"

"That's great. Okay, next step…," Irene said and Helena fell forward dramatically and groaned. "You're not having scrambled eggs, my friend. Chicken francaise has a few more steps."

Irene took the five pound package of flour and placed it on the counter. "Helena, this is very messy…," she explained, but the woman was asking its purpose and pouring it into a bowl. A white cloud of dust appeared from the speed at which the non-cook moved. "You have to place the chicken breast into the flour, then the egg, and then into the pan," Irene explained, lining up the bowls.

"You make it sound as if it's challenging," Helena retorted and began the first step. The flour exploded onto her dress when she tossed it into the first bowl. Next, the egg wash sloshed over the side of the dish.

"I don't know why I thought this would be hard," Irene said and watched the mess grow. "Put it on this platter until you're ready."

"I am not on cleanup duty!" Claudia made sure everyone knew.

"What time is it?" Helena asked - and Claudia wanted to say that it was two minutes since she last asked, but instead said it was seven fifteen.

"We have plenty of time…," Irene was assuring Helena when they all heard something that made them freeze.

The doorbell.

"Who the devil would that be?" Helena asked Irene as if she were the one who occupied the apartment.

"I'm hoping it's Bobby Flay, but what do I know?" Irene remarked.

"Good one, Doctor F," Claudia laughed.

"Could you make yourself useful?" Helena requested of her young friend and jerked her head toward the front door.

"Sure," Claudia said, taking her time to get there.

Myka's flustered state, along with her rule of never being late, made her arrive very early.

"Oh, hello," Myka said, worried for a second that she had the wrong apartment.

"Agent…Bearing?" Claudia said, not sure it was the same woman because the alteration was amazing.

"Bering," Myka smiled. "I…am having dinner with Doctor Wells?" Myka asked because the young woman wasn't doing anything, but staring her up and down.

"You look…so…different," Claudia said and still didn't move. "Like, really different."

Now, Myka was blushing and looking from side to side, because she wasn't sure how to say – 'Can you let me in?' "Is Doctor Wells…here?" she finally asked.

"Oh, my god!" Claudia said and stepped back inside, opening the door wider and inviting Myka in. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Myka smiled and stepped in.

"Let me get… I'll go… we were just… not helping or anything. Just here," Claudia babbled and decided she better shut up. "Sit, please. I'll tell Doc you're here. The British one, not the other… Be right back!"

Myka smiled and looked around. It seemed Helena's apartment resembled her office in that things were piled in many places. "Oh, I have…," she was saying about the wine, but Claudia was gone.

Myka wondered if she should have gotten two bottles of wine, since there seemed to be at least one other person for dinner, maybe two. "I told them it wasn't romantic," she said in a low voice as she scoffed and then realized how she was dressed. "Oh, Myka!" she chastised herself. She worried the other guests would all be in their business attire and she would be dressed to the nines; a clear indication she misunderstood the invitation.

"BLOODY HELL!" she heard coming from the kitchen and really started to worry.

She had no way of knowing that Claudia had just told Helena that her guest was early. "She can't be," Helena declared and Claudia took the time to explain that regardless of what Helena believed, the agent was, in fact, in her living room.

"I'm a mess," Helena said, looking at Irene.

"Yeah," Irene had to agree and offered to get some of the flour off of Helena's dark dress.

"I hope you're satisfied," the Brit barked at the woman she believed could have prevented this by cooking the meal herself.

"We don't have to go out the window, do we?" Claudia asked and now Irene saw the dilemma.

"Go inside and greet your guest before she wonders if you're nuts," Irene said, pulling the apron off of Helena and making her spin.

Helena stood in front of the kitchen door, brushed her dress off and tried to push back her hair. Then, mustering up her serenity, she pushed open the door and went inside.

"Damn!" Claudia let out. "I meant to tell her Agent Bering looks hot."

Myka's back was to the doctor as she burst into the room, laughing and apologizing for not greeting her personally. "The damnedest thing," Helena started to fabricate the reason - when Myka turned to say hello.

One could have heard the screeching of brakes when Helena stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing her guest. She was surprised at how early Myka was; but she was speechless at the transformation from Agent Bering to this woman outfitted in a black cocktail dress who looked so stunning. The dress showed off Myka's curvy shape that was well hidden under her work clothes. "I… I… was…," Helena willed herself to speak, but her eyes were locked on Myka's smile.

"I'm sorry I am so early," Myka apologized and extended her hand.

Helena's brain yelled at her to take it. "Oh, yes, no, not a problem at all," she finally said and took Myka's hand. It was warm and firm, yet soft and Helena forgot to let got. "Please, sit down," she finally said and released it.

While Helena was staring at her guest, Myka was smiling at the sound of Helena's accent that seemed to warm the room. "Oh, I brought this," Myka remembered and took the wine again and handed it to Helena. "I guessed… white. Will it be enough? I can go get more," she suggested in case there were more guests.

"More?" Helena asked when Myka sat down, a position that only further enhanced what the dress showed off.

"I didn't know there would be and other…," Myka said, watching Helena watch her.

"Other… what?" Helena asked, unable to figure it out.

"Guests?" Myka laughed. "Ms. Donovan answered your door."

"Oh!" Helena said, almost shaking herself. "No! God, no! I mean, no, they're just here…," Helena said, pointing to the kitchen, hoping some explanation would come to mind. "…I'll get rid of them," Helena jumped to conclusions and was off before Myka could beg Helena not to do it on her behalf.

"Okay, this is awkward," Myka said and wasn't sure what to do.

"You have to go," Helena chose as her way of thanking her dear friends, and suggesting they leave.

"Excuse me?" Irene said, not in any mood to take her friend's lack of decorum. One look at the stocky woman with her hands planted firmly on her hips was all the body language Helena needed to tell her her approach sucked.

"I mean…," Helena corrected herself. "Your work here is done. Much appreciate it," the Brit said and the words somehow didn't flow smoothly.

"So, you got this?" Irene asked, fully aware her friend didn't have this. "You're good?"

The brilliant doctor was beginning to think her friend might just be insinuating something. "I… put the chicken in the pan, six minutes on each side and voila!"

"What about the sauce?" Irene quizzed and crossed her arms.

The blank expression on Helena's face indicated she had not been listening when Irene talked about the sauce required for this dish. "I put…," Helena said, looking around for clues. Helena wanted to get back to the living room. If she never ate again, she was okay with that at the moment. "…that…into the pan with oil and butter, six minutes on each side. Remove and add white wine, juice from half a lemon, butter and reduce for two minutes. Boil the water, put the pasta in, take it out eight minutes after boiling. Salads are in the refrigerator, serve first. Blah, blah. It's chemistry, Doctor Frederic; not brain surgery."

"Okay, then," Irene said, wiping her hands of the ingredients…and the situation. "If you're sure."

"Yes, yes, not a problem," said the clueless woman.

Irene seemed to know instinctively that her friend was assuring her as well as herself. Only one of them was buying it.

"One thing before I go," Irene said, getting her bag. "Where do you keep your fire extinguisher?"

Helena thought she was mocking, but Claudia knew better and went searching for it. "Here it is," she said, putting in on the counter.

"Thank you, both," Helena said and started to walk them out.

"Oh, Agent Bering!" Irene said as if she were completely surprised. "How nice it is to see you again," she said to be polite, but Helena was groaning behind her.

"Very nice to see you, too, Doctor Frederic," Myka stood up and smiled.

Now Irene understood why she and Claudia were being rushed out.

"I hope you're not leaving on my account," Myka said and wasn't sure what was going on.

"No!" Helena blurted out. "Not at all. Doctor Frederic is a very busy woman…," she was saying and Irene couldn't help but tease her friend.

"I might be able to juggle things...," she said and then laughed, especially when she saw how upset her boss was at the thought. "No, I'm sorry, I can't."

"Oh, too bad," Helena said, practically pushing her friend further towards the door.

"Yep, we gotta go," Claudia confirmed and asked Helena under her breath is she knew how to use the extinguisher.

"There isn't a contraption I don't know how to operate," Helena assured her.

Helena would prove that wasn't true before the night was over.