At least this update was quicker than the last. Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading!

Tracy calls Myka at work the following day startling her. Frantically she takes the call, thinking the worst. "Tracy? Is everything all right? Is it the baby?" she asks standing from her desk, ready to run out of her office at the slightest provocation.

"Relax, Myka, I'm fine," Tracy laughs.

"But you're calling me at work. You never call me at work," Myka says sitting back in her chair with a frown.

"That's not true - is it?" Tracy asks perplexed.

"Yeah it is. So if you're fine and the baby's fine, why are you calling now?"

"Dinner last night was fun, wasn't it?"

"Trace, if you're expecting to discuss last night's dinner in detail, I really don't have the time for that now, or the inclination," she says turning back to her computer to work. Last night's dinner was something she was resolutely not going to think about. Specifically she was not going to think about the way Helena kissed her – more than once – or the way Helena could touch her so casually and yet incite such…desire. Even now Myka could feel her face flush in remembrance, in longing. "I really am busy," Myka interrupts her own thoughts more forcefully than intended. "A client is expecting my call in less than ten minutes to go over the latest draft of their novel."

"Fine, fine," Tracy agrees. "We can talk about dinner at a later time, but I also called to ask a question. What color do you like best on Helena?"

"Blue," Myka answers distractedly turning back to her computer.

"No wonder you couldn't take your eyes off her last night in that pretty blue sweater she wore," Tracy teases with a laugh.

"Wait, what?" Myka sputters, tearing her gaze from the computer screen suddenly comprehending the oddness of the initial question. "I didn't stare at Helena all night," she protests, "and why are you asking about my favorite color on her anyway?"

"Oh, you so did too stare at her all night, not that I blame you, you newlywed you," Tracy teases. "As for my other question, no reason, just curious. We'll talk later okay? Love you, bye!" Tracy says hanging up before Myka has a chance to question her further.

Myka pulls the phone from her ear, frowning at it as if it is personally responsible for the odd question voiced that now leaves her with a feeling of unease. She doesn't take time to dwell on the feeling however as she begins dialing Rebecca St. Clair's number.


Helena sits in her office, her chair facing away from her desk, towards the window where she stares out unseeingly, too absorbed in remembrance of the night before spent with Myka's family. The way Jeannie, Tracy and Kevin openly embraced her into the family, even the way Warren accepted her after their tension-filled talk.

With a quick glance at her watch, she reaches for her cell phone. He should be home by now and she's put off the inevitable long enough. It's time she spoke with Charles to tell him of recent events.

"Helena, hello. It's been a while since you've called," he greets jovially. "How are things?"

"Hello, Charles. I'm sorry it's been a while, but truthfully, I've been distracted of late. I injured my back recently and have had to deal with that."

"Are you alright?" Charles asks concerned. "Nothing too serious I hope."

"No, no. The doctor assured I will have a full recovery - I've just been trying to take things easy for the time being."

"You take things easy? I can imagine how well that's going," he chuckles.

"Yes, well, I've been doing a better job of that since Myka has been taking care of me," Helena retorts.

"Myka's been taking care of you?"

"Yes, Charles, why must you turn everything I say into another question?" she sighs annoyed.

"I'm just trying to understand. Myka is a very good friend to take care of you while you're injured, I hope you realize that."

"Of course I do. Myka is my best friend and I'm extremely fortunate to have her in my life." Helena clears her throat nervously. "Myka is actually the reason why I've called you."

"Oh?"

"She and I…were married nearly two weeks ago," Helena says simply, waiting for some snarky response from Charles. It doesn't come. Helena waits several long breaths, clutching the ring she wears around her neck before asking quietly, "Charles, say something please?"

"You accused me of turning everything you say into a question. I'm trying valiantly at the moment not to do that and it's proving rather difficult. You and Myka are married," he states uncertainly.

"Yes."

"You know I'm full of questions about this development, Helena, not least of which why you didn't tell me you were dating, let alone getting married, so you might as well start explaining it to me."

"It's not what you think," she sighs. "I forgot to renew my work visa. Artie was more than eager to have me deported when I may have suggested to him that Myka and I were in a relationship and that we could just get married to keep me in the country."

"Go on," Charles prods.

"And Myka agreed to marry me to keep me here. We were married at the courthouse and after I injured my back later that night, she let me stay with her to look after me. A situation that has only been further complicated now that Immigration Services suspects our marriage to be a fraud, so now I'm slowly moving into Myka's apartment to keep up appearances that the marriage isn't a fraud."

Helena no sooner catches her breath at the explanation than she hears Charles burst into uproarious laughter.

Startled by his reaction at first, Helena begins to feel anger welling within her as his laughter shows no sign of subsiding. "What, dear brother, is so amusing to you?" she scathes which only makes Charles' laughter increase.

"You, Helena," he finally manages to speak and Helena can only imagine the way he must be wiping tears from his eyes. "You are what is so amusing. The way you managed to marry the very woman you're in love with on a technicality is incredibly amusing to me."

"Charles, do be serious," Helena pleads, feeling her heart beginning to race within her chest at his statement.

"I am, Helena," his tone gentler, no trace of the earlier laughter. "I think we both know you've been in love with Myka for a long time despite your best attempts to deny it."

Helena is transported by his words to a moment when another made the same accusation.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" The question is voiced so softly and it's not really a question at all, but rather a resigned statement of fact.

"She's not in love with me."

"That's not what I asked."

"Giselle, please…"

Helena shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts of that intrusive memory. "You're not the only one who has accused me of being in love with her," Helena finally answers him.

"Oh? Who…"

"It doesn't matter," Helena firmly interrupts.

"Alright then. I can't help but notice you're not denying what I've said. It's true, isn't it? You are in love with Myka, aren't you, darling?" he asks gentler now.

"Yes," she answers simply, the admission expelling from her lips with a heavy sigh. It's the first time she's ever admitted it aloud, given voice to this feeling that has churned within her for years.

"I thought as much," Charles says approvingly. "When I came to visit and met Myka, you practically took my head off over a little harmless flirting."

"You were leering at her!" Helena accuses with a cry.

"I'll have you know as a gentleman I don't leer," he says mocking offense. "And jealousy doesn't suit you, Helena. But why do I get the sense you're not enthusiastic about this admission?"

"Because nothing will ever come of it, Charles. I've been in love with Myka for years and nothing has come of it all this time so why would things change now that we just happen to be married?"

"Because you are married, Helena. Myka married you. She didn't have to, but she did."

"To help a friend in need, nothing more."

"Are you certain about that?"

"Quite," Helena answers resolutely.

"Hmm. But you've never actually told her how you feel have you?"

"Not in so many words, no," Helena concedes.

"Well then, here's a thought – perhaps you should tell her how you feel in so many words," he suggests.

"Charles, I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"Because there is the very real likelihood she doesn't feel the same for me."

"Ah, now we're getting to the heart of the matter. The way things stand now in your friendship, you're comfortable. There's the uncertainty but hope that there could be more between you rather than finality and defeat if it turns out Myka doesn't return your affection, is that it?"

"In a word, yes."

"Helena, don't you think it would be better to know one way or the other? It could be that she does return your feelings and knowing she does would be so much better than only hoping so."

"And if she doesn't, what then?" Helena scoffs.

"Then you can move on – find someone else who will love you."

"I already tried that, Charles, it didn't work and I caused them pain for my efforts," Helena says softly. "Myka is the only one I want."

"Then tell her that. She deserves to know." When Helena doesn't answer, Charles continues. "Well then, perhaps I could have a little chat with her?"

"Absolutely not. I don't want you telling her anything we've just discussed, Charles."

"Give me some credit, Helena, I won't betray your confidence. I simply want to welcome Myka into the family. Or as your older brother, I could give her a stern talking to, question her about what's in it for her that she married you so suddenly to avoid your deportation."

"Please no, I just had the 'what are your intentions' talk with her father last night, I don't wish to subject her to that with you."

"Did you?" Charles chuckles. "I can imagine how well that went over with you."

"I could have done without it," Helena confirms, "but it wasn't too terrible and really he had every right to voice his concern on the matter. We did marry suddenly – especially since her family wasn't aware of any dating between us, which of course there wasn't any because Myka and I are only friends," she sighs heavily. "Anyway, by the end of our talk I think her father was mollified if not completely satisfied that I married Myka because I love her and not just to avoid deportation."

"Considering you do love her, it couldn't have been such a stretch to believe that."

"Yes, well, Mr. Bering eventually believed I was sincere in loving his daughter. And since you know the true circumstances for our marriage, there's no need for you to question Myka unnecessarily."

"Very well. But I would like to wish her well."

"I'll give her your regards, Charles. I'm at work now and I've already spent too much time away from it talking with you, but I did want to…make you aware of the situation and…just hear the sound of your voice I suppose," she says sentimentally.

"I miss you too, Helena, and I'm very glad you called to share everything with me. I'm overjoyed to learn I have another sister for however long it lasts and personally I hope to have Myka for a sister for a good long while."

"Thank you, Charles. She will be your sister for a few months anyway until we can clear things with Immigration Services. After that…who knows," she sighs.

"You're married now, Helena, the odds are in your favor. If Myka isn't already in love with you, I'd say with time and circumstances as they are it won't be long before she is," he says confidently.

Helena laughs in disbelief. "Oh, Charles, you're such a hopeless romantic."

"Hopeful romantic," he corrects. "And you forget, I've seen you and Myka together. That is a woman who is not indifferent to your charm, Helena. She cares for you deeply. Marrying you is a testament to that."

"Charles I already told you, she only did it to - "

"I know, help a friend in need. If that's what you truly believe, then let me ask you this. Do you think she would have married any of her other friends if they were in the same predicament as you are? Would you have married anyone other than Myka if they were in your position?"

The questions bring Helena up short to form a response. She's fairly certain she can answer both those questions with a resounding no and it's a startling revelation.

"That's what I thought," Charles gloats over her silent answer. "If that's not love, I don't know what is."

Helena clears her throat as she shifts in her chair, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Well, I know you're anxious to get back to work, Helena. Call me with any updates to your situation and give Myka my warm regards."

"I will," Helena finally finds her voice. "And thank you for listening, Charles. Our talk has been enlightening," she remarks wryly before hanging up.

Reclining in her chair to glance out the window, Helena is more uncertain about her relationship with Myka than ever.


That evening Helena settles onto the sofa with two bowls of ice cream, handing one over to Myka who barely glances up from Helena's manuscript she's reading to take it with a thankful smile.

"You've been reading that most of the evening, are you sure you wouldn't rather spend your leisure time reading something worth while?" Helena asks self-consciously.

The question causes Myka to look up from her reading, a spoonful of ice cream on her tongue. She quickly swallows it down. "Your writing is worth while. I'm enjoying the story so far."

"I still think you'd be better off reading something else," Helena argues, taking a bite of her own ice cream.

Myka just shakes her head at her with a lopsided grin before resuming reading.

Helena eats her ice cream silently glancing at Myka in between bites. "I have something to discuss with you, if you don't mind the interruption?" she begins hesitantly.

"What is it?" Myka asks setting the manuscript down.

"I called Charles today to tell him about us."

"To tell him…"

"That we're married, yes."

"Oh. Okay. How did he take the news?" Myka asks, her brow furrowing with worry.

Helena remembers his initial amusement, followed by a genuine heart to heart discussion. "Quite well actually. I told him the true circumstances for why we married, thinking it unlikely Abigail will question him about the validity of our marriage, and even if she does, Charles has a talent for talking around the truth."

"Okay," Myka repeats for lack of something better to say. "I guess it's good he knows then."

"Certainly it is. Charles will be an ally for us and it will be good for us to have someone who knows the truth of the situation."

Myka nods as she takes another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. "And you're sure he wasn't upset by what you told him?"

Helena smiles at the worried frown on Myka's features. "Well, he did suggest having a chat with you – similar to the one I had with your father last night I imagine, but I quickly dispelled him of that notion," Helena laughs.

Myka laughs too. "Thanks for dissuading him - not that I wouldn't have talked to him, if he really wanted me to that is."

"He only wanted to give you a hard time, Myka, being the annoying older brother he is," Helena smiles. "Still, he did wish us well in our endeavor."

Myka simply nods, eating the remainder of her ice cream in thoughtful silence.


The following evening they receive a package addressed to both of them. Helena opens it with an odd sense of foreboding as Myka looks on curiously. Inside lies a dozen long-stemmed red roses, a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolate covered strawberries. Myka's eyes widen with surprise at the gifts looking to Helena for some explanation. It comes in the form of a small note that Helena knows even before reading who the culprit is behind such romantic gifts.

She reads the note silently, her heart beating frantically and a frown worrying her features.

"Helena? What is it?" Myka asks concerned. "Who sent all this?"

Helena doesn't answer with words, simply hands Myka the note. "Best wishes on your recent marriage. May it be a long and happy one. Love, Charles," she reads aloud. "I don't understand. I thought you said you told him the truth about us, about our marriage," Myka looks at her with uncertainty in her eyes.

"I did tell him the truth," Helena answers quietly remembering exactly what truth she revealed to Charles the day before. Ever the big brother, these gifts are his is his way of giving her a firm push to share that truth with Myka.

"Then why did he…"

"Because that's Charles for you, darling," Helena interrupts brightly. "He found our predicament amusing so no doubt he decided to give us these gifts on a lark."

Myka furrows her brow with concern. "This is a lot of money to spend just on a lark, don't you think?"

Helena shrugs feigning unconcern as she removes the lid from the box of strawberries. "Whatever Charles' motivation is, we might as well enjoy the benefits," she says offering the dessert to Myka who gingerly takes one between two fingers.

Myka studies the dessert a moment. "I've never had chocolate covered strawberries before."

"Really? Then I'm flattered your first time is with me," Helena lowers her voice seductively, smirking as she takes a generous bite of her own strawberry.

Myka quirks a brow at her, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach at Helena's suggestive words. "You know, I think you're a bad influence on me. Ever since we started living together I've eaten more sugar than I ever used to," she complains.

"And you love every minute of it. Go on, take a bite," Helena encourages with a laugh. "They're divine and you know you want to." She watches as Myka brings the fruit to her mouth, her lips closing over it to take a bite and really, the simple action should not be so…distracting. Myka closes her eyes in obvious pleasure emitting a soft moan and Helena feels her stomach pull at the sound.

"You're right, these are divine," Myka says opening her eyes to find Helena looking at her with lips slightly parted and her eyes wide. "Are you okay? You look a little flush," she says concerned.

"I'm fine," Helena quickly asserts.

Myka eyes her curiously. "You sure?"

"Ye…yes," and Helena hates that the word comes out sounding more like a question than a statement. She hurriedly finishes the rest of her strawberry aware that Myka is still watching her. "Actually I…I think I'll draw a bath, if that's alright?" she says setting the remaining box of strawberries in the fridge.

"A bath?" Myka asks confused by the topic change.

"Yes. It's been a long day, the muscles in my back feel a bit tense – I think a bath will help relax me," she explains as she begins to retreat from the kitchen.

"I could give you another massage if you want," Myka says, her brow furrowed with worry.

"No, no that won't be necessary. A bath will do," Helena responds, leaving the kitchen in haste. The last thing she can handle at the moment are Myka's hands on her.

Myka finishes her strawberry in silence, the pleasure of it diminished as she worries about the sudden change in Helena's demeanor; the way she went from carefree teasing one moment to apparent unease the next. Helena had been healing so well, her back causing her little trouble the last few days and though Myka knows it's possible she could suffer a relapse, the haste in which Helena left her alone leads Myka to wonder if discomfort in her back is the only thing bothering Helena – beyond the obvious, married to avoid deportation – now being investigated for fraud – all while lying to family and friends situation of course.

She mentally groans at the thought, filling a vase with water for the roses. It's a wonder neither of them have woken in the night in a cold sweat really. The one night she did wake up sweating had been for an entirely different reason with Helena's body entwined with hers. As much as Helena likes to tease Myka for her proclivity to cuddle, Helena is just as guilty and Myka had woken one night for feeling too hot and found Helena draped over her possessively. Unwilling to wake Helena, she'd laid awake just listening to the sound of Helena's breathing, feeling her warm breath against her skin until the rhythm of it finally allowed Myka to drift asleep once more.

Water overflows from the vase, stirring Myka from her reverie and she quickly turns off the tap. After placing the roses on the counter, Myka stows the bottle of champagne away in the fridge, lamenting if she and Helena will ever have reason to drink it for its intended purpose to celebrate a 'long and happy marriage' as Charles described.


Helena turns on the water for the bath, pouring in a healthy dose of vanilla scented bath salts, watching them dissolve as she gathers her hair into a messy bun. Stripping out of her clothing quickly, she submerges herself into the heated water before the tub is even full. She sits for a moment, watching the water pour from the tap, the sound of rushing water drowning out her traitorous thoughts for the moment.

Finally the tub is full enough and Helena lurches forward to turn off the tap, the resulting silence enveloping her. Leaning back against the tub she closes her eyes with a contended sigh, only to be presented with the image of Myka's face as she enjoyed that sweetened strawberry. Helena groans, wanting nothing more than for Myka to be with her in this bath; for them to touch and hold each other intimately. Helena groans again, opening her eyes to the bright light of the room, not allowing herself to indulge any longer in those dangerous thoughts. The whole purpose of escaping to this bath, and she knows she is using it as an escape, is to clear her thinking where Myka is concerned.

Charles' gift has forced to remind her of their conversation yesterday. And although she doesn't regret telling Charles the truth about being in love with Myka, she is still at a loss what to do about the situation she's in. It's becoming more difficult to live with the woman she's in love with and not reveal that love to Myka.

Helena sighs heavily, her wedding ring gleaming in the light as her fingertips swirl the water around her distractedly.

"She cares for you deeply. Marrying you is a testament to that," Charles had said.

She recalls the question Charles posed about whether she or Myka would marry anyone else had they been faced with deportation. She knows with certainty Myka wouldn't have married another under the same circumstances. Myka and Pete are extremely good friends but if he'd been in Helena's position, threatened with deportation, she knows Myka would promise to keep in touch, even visit him in whatever far off land he would theoretically deport to. But she wouldn't marry him – and why? Because Myka doesn't care for Pete enough to risk the repercussions, possible criminal charges for him. But she has done just that for Helena and so much more. She's opened her home and family to Helena with little hesitation. And she's willing to continue the charade for as long as it takes, even knowing she's likely to endure so many unwanted questions from her family when the marriage is annulled.

Perhaps Charles isn't so far off the mark. Perhaps Myka does care for her more than as a friend. She recalls the way Myka brushed away the claims Helena made about that…Sam fellow being interested in her with disbelief. Myka is too modest, she doesn't realize how desirable she is. Perhaps Helena hasn't been as obvious in her regard for Myka as she thought herself to be.

Charles suggested she tell Myka outright how she feels. Helena can't quite bring herself to express her feelings so directly, especially without knowing if she is to receive a favorable response, but she can work harder to show Myka the love she feels for her and if Charles is correct that Myka feels more for her than friendship, she can hope that her efforts inspire Myka to reveal those feelings.

"If Myka isn't already in love with you, I'd say with time and circumstances as they are it won't be long before she is."

Sinking lower into the water, the thought occurs to Helena that Charles may be right. Circumstance is on her side. She's married to Myka and what's more, they have to convince Immigration Services that their marriage is a true, loving relationship.

That's it then. Helena knows now what she must do if there is any possibility of Myka falling in love with her. She must court her wife.

Helena smiles at the thought and she feels a warmth settle within her chest that feels like hope.


Just as Sunday mornings are for grocery shopping, Helena has learned that Wednesday evenings are designated for laundry. Helena isn't sure sitting in the apartment building's laundry room, waiting for her clothes to dry can be considered martial bliss, and yet Myka sits beside her absorbed in a novel, looking attractive as ever even with a stray curl falling into her eyes. Helena nearly lifts her hand to brush it aside but refrains. Myka does follow through on the action however, securing the curly strand behind her ear and Helena sighs at the sight.

Looking up from her book at the soft exhalation, Myka asks, "Everything okay?"

"Yes," Helena straightens in her chair under her gaze. "It just seems a shame to waste an evening doing nothing more exciting than laundry."

Myka grins at her complaint. "Too practical for you, huh?"

"It isn't that. It's just such a chore to have to wait for clothing to wash and dry."

"One more reason why I want a house," Myka agrees, "so that I can have my own washer and dryer so I can do other things and not worry that some other tenant is going to take my clothes if I don't stay to wait for them."

"Has that ever happened to you?"

"No, but I've heard stories. Besides the waiting isn't so bad if you use the time wisely, like for reading," she glances at Helena's own book that sits idle in her lap.

Helena looks at the novel too. She's hardly glanced at it since coming down to the laundry room, since she moved in with Myka to be more accurate, her mind wandering over a million different things it would seem, not least of which is her new wife.

Helena sighs again. "I suppose I'm just not in the mood for reading. We are newlyweds after all, it seems we should do something more pleasurable than laundry," she smirks.

Myka laughs, not allowing herself to consider what activity true newlyweds might do for pleasure. "There are still chocolate covered strawberries left and we have ice cream. After the laundry is finished I can dish us both some, maybe turn on a movie. Is that pleasurable enough for you?" she grins turning back to her book.

"I suppose it will suffice," Helena says with another longsuffering sigh as she sets down her novel to pull her laptop from its bag resting at her feet. Soon the soft clicking of typing rises above the gentle hum of the dryer, pulling Myka from her novel again to glance at Helena.

"Did you bring work home with you?"

"Not exactly," Helena shakes her head. "Abigail mentioned we may have to be interviewed by her agency if there is still any doubt of the validity of our marriage pending her examination of us. I thought it might be prudent to find out what kind of questions may be asked of us should that happen."

"And you think those questions will just be available online?" Myka asks skeptically.

"Well, perhaps not the exact questions we could be asked, but some variation of them," she shrugs. A few keystrokes later Helena grins triumphantly as she shows Myka a webpage listing marriage fraud interview questions in bold print. "As Claudia says, the internet knows everything."

Myka slips a bookmark between the pages of her book, resting her hands over it in her lap. "Okay, so what are the questions then?" she asks curious.

Helena scrolls through the first several questions on the list. "They seem fairly straight-forward actually. Where and when we met, what our common interests were at the time, describe our first date, and where we went on subsequent dates…"

"Dates? That's going to be a problem," Myka points out.

"I shouldn't think so."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we can consider the first time we went to dinner as our first date. You remember we went to that little Italian restaurant downtown. You insisted on taking me to dinner to help welcome me to the city," Helena says brightly.

"Ugh, how could I forget?" Myka shakes her head with a laugh. "There I was trying to impress you with my knowledge of 19th century literature managing instead to embarrass myself by spilling marinara sauce on the front of my blouse."

"It was very little and as I recall we managed to get most of it out," Helena says smiling at the memory of a very flustered but endearing Myka.

"You managed to get most of it out thankfully," Myka sighs at the memory of that eventful evening. "As I recall, I was pretty helpless in the matter."

Myka recalls being so flustered about the situation, essentially making a fool of herself in front of the most intelligent and beautiful woman she'd ever known, her new coworker no less. She'd intended to excuse herself to the restroom to try to get the stain out, but Helena had been quicker, dipping her cloth napkin into her glass of ice water, shifting to Myka's side of the table so that she could dab at the stain, working it out of the blouse. With Helena so close and her attention focused on her task, Myka was given the opportunity to study the features of Helena's face without notice, to observe the delicate curve of her cheekbones, the paleness of her skin in direct contrast to dark eyelashes, and full red lips slightly parted as she focused on her task. The sight was breathtaking.

And when Helena's dark eyes finally looked up from their task to meet Myka's own, she couldn't contain or explain the quickening of her heart.

"I'm sorry to get your blouse so damp, but the cold water should help keep the stain from setting before you're able to properly wash it," Helena explained. "I do hope the stain comes out as you look lovely in this blouse, it would be a shame not to see you wear it again."

Myka laughed self-consciously at the compliment. "Thanks to your quick reflexes I'd say it'll survive to be worn another day."

"Excellent," Helena's eyes glowed with approval. Leaning closer to whisper conspiratorially, "Now tell me, does this establishment serve cannoli?"

Myka smiled wide. "They do. Pete tells me it's the best he's ever had and coming from him, that's saying something. He often walks down here from the office on his lunch break just for the cannoli."

"Well, I'm glad to see that he has good taste in dessert at least. But what is your opinion on the matter?"

"I haven't actually tried it."

"What?"

"I don't eat sugar."

"Never?" Helena asked incredulous.

Myka thought of the Twizzlers stashed in her desk at the office for those moments when she just craved some sweetness. "Well…I don't usually eat sugar," she amended.

"Could I possibly persuade you to try the cannoli with me?" Helena asked, her dark eyes gleaming in the soft light looking so hopeful.

"I'd like that," Myka agreed.

"Lovely," Helena smiled as she signaled for a waiter to order the dessert. Their conversation resumed, Helena not bothering to return to her side of the table opting instead to remain at Myka's side.

The music playing in the background all evening, settling gently among the familiar sounds of a restaurant, the clinking of silverware and glasses and the hum of conversation, had been old classics from musicians of the forties and fifties. Myka had easily recognized the crooning of Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald and others throughout the night as a backdrop to their conversation. But as Helena's eyes continued to search hers, Myka heard the lyrics of the current song rise above the din of noise in the restaurant as if someone had muted the clinking dishware and conversations around them so that the songstress could sing only for them.

When one is lonely, the days are long

You seem so near, but never appear

The pure voice was familiar to Myka, she was certain she recognized it and yet with Helena still looking at her, talking to her, Myka was too distracted to give any thought to the name of the singer and so it remained elusive.

Each night I sing you a lover's song

Please try to hear, my dear, my dear

Someday I'll find you, moonlight behind you

True to the dream, I am dreaming

"Myka. Myka, where did you go?" Helena asks softly, observing the thoughtful look in Myka's eyes.

Myka blushes, thankful Helena can't read her thoughts to know how much that first dinner together has stayed with her so clearly in memory. She knows the singer now. The lyrics carried her home that night and she did a quick Internet search to find the elusive name. Doris Day. It was no wonder Myka knew that voice as familiar. Doris Day was one of her mother's favorite actresses and Myka must have seen at least a dozen of her movies while growing up. Now Myka has reason to love the singer even more as she'll always associate that song "Someday I'll Find You" with Helena.

"Sorry, I was just thinking of that first dinner together. About how memorable it was."

"It was indeed," Helena says still studying Myka's features. "Why were you trying to impress me?"

"What?" Myka startles.

"You said earlier you were trying to impress me that night, why?"

"Because…you know…" Myka rubs at her neck self-consciously, "you were you and…I was me."

"Whatever does that mean?" Helena asks amused but with a hint of annoyance.

"Just that you were this sophisticated, elegant, brilliant new editor and I was just me."

"Just you? Myka, did it ever occur to you that I looked at you with the same feeling of awe that you seem to have looked at me?"

"What? That can't possibly be true," Myka scoffs in dismissal.

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"And don't you dare repeat because I'm me and you're you," Helena warns, dark eyes flashing.

Myka swallows her words, remaining silent under Helena's stare.

Myka," Helena begins again, her voice gentle, "you give yourself far too little credit. You are the most remarkable person I know. I only wish you could see yourself the way I see you, the way I saw you that night and ever since."

"Mrs. Frederic personally recruited you to join the Endless Wonder. Is it any wonder why I was in awe of you?" Myka smiles. "You were already so highly regarded by her and it was obvious you knew your literature not to mention good at your job. I just wanted you to know that I was capable and could hold my own I guess."

"Oh, Myka I knew that the moment we met," Helena replies emphatically, recalling the way the striking green eyes had held her captive then and continue to do so now years later.

"You did?"

"Of course. Mrs. Frederic told me of the team I would be working with when she was trying to recruit me. You in particular she praised. Once I met you, I knew she wasn't exaggerating that praise."

Myka remains silent, uncertain what to say in response to that.

"And we've proven to make a good team, haven't we?"

"We have," Myka quickly agrees, unable to interpret the way Helena is looking at her now, dark eyes darting to her lips before quickly meeting her eyes once more as they sit close enough to touch. It wouldn't take much at all to lean forward into a kiss.

Myka is startled from her train of thought by the buzzing sound of the dryer choosing that exact moment to announce her clothes are dry. She's both relieved by the interruption and disappointed as she quickly rises from her chair, only to turn back to place her book upon the seat, aware that Helena is watching her every movement.

Myka focuses on removing her clothes from the dryer to place in the hamper, glad to have the distraction from thoughts of kissing Helena or the deluded thought that Helena would have kissed her. She begins folding a sheet, startling when Helena grasps the opposite end to help her. Silently their eyes meet as their hands work on folding the smooth fabric, Helena finally stepping closer with the material's final fold, clasping Myka's hand in hers as she lets go of the sheet to Myka's hold.

"Myka, it could work, couldn't it? We simply think of our first dinner together as our first date," she says returning to their original topic of discussion.

Setting the folded sheet back in the hamper, Myka pulls out a towel and begins folding it. "Fine, so we have the first date covered. What about the other dates we are supposed to have been on?"

The second dryer buzzes and Helena begins unloading her own clothes into a hamper. "Additional dates can be other dinners we've shared, the time we went to the ballet, our occasional Saturday outings to the art museum, the walks we've shared through the park after you've tried to get me to run with you to no avail," she smirks. Then there are the times you accompanied me to my kempo class, the nights spent listening to Claudia's band, and the nights just spent watching a movie in each other's apartments. I could go on," she says pointedly.

"Okay, but a lot of those activities we've done also included other people," Myka protests.

"No matter," Helena brushes off her factual statement. "I doubt we'll be asked specifically if anyone else was on those 'dates' so we just need to speak of them as actual dates rather than just friends spending time together."

Myka nods. "I guess that could work. Though I'm really hoping it doesn't come down to an interview."

"We'll just have to make sure it doesn't then," Helena says.


Laundry folded and sorted, the two women return to their apartment.

"So what are some other questions listed on the website?" Myka asks as they both sit on the sofa, bowls of ice cream in hand.

Helena opens her laptop to look at more questions. "Let's see here, they may ask each of us about the other's body piercings or tattoos. I know you have the one around your ankle you got while in college. Are there any others I may need to know about…in some hidden place perhaps?" she asks playfully, her eyes wandering and lingering over Myka's body before meeting her eyes once more.

"No, just the one," Myka says with a laugh. "You have your ears pierced. Any other piercings in hidden places I should know about?" she counters in the same playful tone trying to ignore the heat she feels from the way Helena's dark eyes trailed over her.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Helena says, a Cheshire grin in place and her eyes challenging, causing Myka to choke on her ice cream.

"Umm," Myka at last manages to breathe, "Actually I think in this case I need to know. So do you…have any other piercings?" she asks, her throat suddenly dry.

Helena smiles wider. "Sadly no. I have considered piercing my navel but haven't actually gone through with it yet." And Helena's navel, pierced or not, is an image Myka really doesn't need at the moment.

"Oh, okay, good," Myka stutters, quickly forcing another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth before she makes more of a fool of herself.

Helena just smirks at her over her own bowl of ice cream. Answering such personal questions may turn out to be quite enlightening.

"I guess we don't know everything about each other like we should if we were really married. We should probably go over a few of the questions on the list every night…like a quiz," Myka says thinking logically.

"I agree. As well as we do know each other, it's obvious we still have much to learn. For instance, although I knew you fenced while you were in school – having noticed the various ribbons and trophies in your childhood bedroom that fateful Thanksgiving night," Helena smirks at Myka's annoyed huff – Helena will never let her live down that embarrassment - "I didn't have any idea that you ice skated until your mother mentioned it at dinner the other night."

"I didn't compete in ice skating. It was more of a hobby, just something I enjoyed when I had the time. It helped me think."

"Oh? Think of what exactly?"

"Schoolwork, relationships, that sort of thing. It was soothing to skate around a rink and it allowed my mind to slow down enough to work through whatever problem I was having at the time – it gave me perspective and that helped."

Helena tries to imagine Myka as a gangly teenager skating on ice – wondering if the awkwardness she sometimes exhibits on land turns to grace on the ice. "You'll have to take me sometime – I think I'd like to see what you're capable of on the ice," she smirks.

Myka laughs. "All I'm capable of is skating laps around a rink, maybe a few spins on occasion."

"Do you still skate?" Helena asks interested.

Myka shakes her head. "It's not that I don't want to – or need to sometimes," she laughs, "but it's a little harder these days to take the time to go to a rink. Now I usually go for a long run instead to help clear my thinking."

"I can understand that. I have my own method to sort through problems, though it's nothing so physical as yours. I tend to luxuriate in a warm bath, allowing the water and silence to soothe me enough to slow down and think more clearly."

Myka remembers the night before, the way Helena excused herself suddenly to take a bath and she wonders what problem she had to think through. "So last night was…"

"My way of sorting through a problem," Helena concedes finishing her ice cream and setting the bowl on the coffee table.

"What problem?"

Helena sighs, meeting Myka's worried gaze. "Charles' little gift last night served to remind me a bit more forcefully than I may have liked that we are supposed to show all appearances of being a married couple."

"Okay?" Myka says unsure where Helena's line of thinking is going.

"So I think we should date," Helena says, cringing at the way the words tumble from her mouth.

"Date?" Myka says feeling her heart quicken at the statement.

"Yes, well it occurred to me that to help sell our case…to appear truly married…that we should perhaps…date," she explains, her eyes darting to Myka's nervously.

"I see," Myka says, trying to sound casual without revealing the conflicting emotions of elation and regret that churn within her.

"I believe it's quite common for married couples to have date nights and seeing that we told Abigail we've only recently begun our romantic relationship, it makes sense that we would date, does it not?" Helena asks with baited breath.

"In that context, yeah…I suppose it would make sense to date," Myka agrees haltingly. "I mean, like you said, dating would reinforce our role as a married couple and could help convince Abigail our marriage isn't a fraud. It couldn't hurt," she finally says.

"Well then, now that's settled, how about a date this Friday night? I can take you to dinner and a movie – the epitome of the classic date night," Helena smirks.

"Moving a bit fast, aren't you, Wells?" Myka tries to tease.

"Bering-Wells, remember? And there's no time like the present, darling," she responds.

"Alright, it's a date," Myka agrees.

"Excellent," Helena enthuses, already looking forward to her date with Myka unabashedly.


"Pete, where are we going? I'm starved. Not to mention getting cold," Myka complains pulling at her coat collar as they walk along a city street of downtown Denver.

"Just a little bit further. My twitter feed says they're parked just a couple blocks away."

"Parked? Please don't tell me we're eating from a vehicle," Myka says annoyed.

"A taco truck, yeah," Pete rubs his hands together with gleeful anticipation.

"Absolutely not," Myka stops in her tracks. "I refuse to eat anything prepared on four wheels."

"Technically I think these kind of trucks have six wheels, but you'll be happy to know the wheels don't have anything to do with the quality of the food."

"Peeete," she whines.

"Ah, come on, Mykes, it's my turn to choose where we have lunch and the reviews on this truck are off the charts. Besides, where's your sense of adventure? It'll be good for you to step outside of your limited culinary world."

"My limited culinary world that consists of fine dining, you mean?"

"Yeah, exactly," he answers ignoring her sarcasm.

"Fine," she mutters falling back into step beside him.

They finally walk within sight of the taco truck and it boasts a long line of customers. "What'd I tell you?" Pete grins at her. "The food has to be good with a line that long."

He practically skips to the line and though Myka drags her feet behind him, she can't quite quell the smile that breaks out on her face at his exuberance. There is no love affair equal to that of Pete and food she thinks with a shake of curly tresses.

The line moves along impressively fast and before they know it, they are sharing a bench in the midst of the downtown scene. Pete wolfs down his beef burrito in a matter of minutes and is already noisily sucking the last drops of his soda through a straw while Myka still works on her chicken taco – which isn't half bad – not that she'll admit it to Pete.

Stomach sated for the moment, food is no longer on the forefront of Pete's mind as he shifts in his seat, drawing the straw up and down noisily through the plastic lid of his empty cup, creating the annoying sound repeatedly.

Myka knows having lunch together isn't the only reason Pete asked her to come out here today. Almost as soon as he arrived in the office this morning he had come to her asking to discuss something over lunch. He'd been unusually serious in his request that Myka didn't hesitate to accept, wondering all morning what he wanted to talk about. It seems she is about to find out, if he stops fiddling with the straw long enough to tell her.

"Pete," she says pointedly glaring at his hands that are restlessly moving the straw through the lid.

"Sorry," he says setting the cup down on the bench and brushing crumbs from his jacket instead.

"So what is it you wanted to talk with me about?" Myka asks in between bites.

"Marriage," Pete answers soberly causing Myka to choke on her taco.

"What?" she coughs out, her eyes wide with panic that Pete has somehow managed to find out about her marriage to Helena. Her hand falls to her neck, fingers searching out the carefully concealed chain that carries her wedding ring. She, they, had been so careful to make sure no one at work would find out about their marriage. How could Pete possibly know?

"Yeah. Ever since that night in your apartment, the way we talked about marriage, kids, I haven't been able to get it off my mind."

"What exactly has been on your mind?" she asks carefully, trying to sound calm.

"I love Amanda, Mykes, and I want to marry her, but I…I just don't know…"

Myka breathes out a sigh of relief, nearly laughing aloud with it. Pete doesn't know her secret. He's worried about his own marriage prospect. Removing her hand from her neck, she tears at the wrapper around what's left of her taco. "What don't you know, Pete?" she asks taking another generous bite.

"I don't know what she'll say," he admits so uncertain it tugs at Myka's heart. "I know she loves me, so I think she'd say yes, but there's still that doubt, you know?"

"Hey, Pete," she says softly, reaching out a hand to grasp his shoulder soothingly. "You and Amanda have been together for years. I think if she didn't want to be with you, she would have left years ago when she learned of your unhealthy obsession for cookies," she teases.

"Hey, hey, hey," he tries to complain but the goofy grin that overtakes his face belies his true feelings on the matter.

"You're thinking about cookies right now, aren't you?" Myka smirks knowingly.

"Yeah," he grins. "We should stop and get a dozen or so on our way back… you know, to share with the office."

"Sure, for the office," Myka shakes her head fondly at him.

"Seriously though, marriage…it's big, Mykes. Things between Amanda and I are really good now. What if marriage changes that?"

"It shouldn't," Myka speaks confidently. "If you love each other, a piece of paper and a ring aren't going to make a bit of difference."

"A ring!" he snaps his fingers animatedly. "That's another reason I wanted you to come to lunch with me today. There's a jewelry store not far from here – I thought you could go with me to scope it out."

"Oh, Pete," Myka startles, her panic beginning to rise at the knowledge the store Pete speaks of is the very same one she and Helena bought their rings from. "I really wouldn't be much help. I don't know what Amanda likes."

"I do - well I have an idea anyway. I just want to look – see what they've got, what their prices are, you know shop around a little before making a final decision."

Myka looks at him surprised and a little impressed.

"I know, who knew I could be so responsible, right?" he jokes. "I just don't want to mess this up, not for Amanda."

"You won't, Pete," she assures.

"So you'll go with me?"

"Yeah," Myka sighs rising from the bench and holding out her hand to Pete who takes it gratefully. "Let's go find your girl a ring," she smiles.


What seemed like a good, supportive idea moments ago, doesn't seem so anymore as Myka and Pete approach the little jewelry store she and Helena visited just two weeks ago.

"You know, there's another store further downtown that I think has a better selection than this one, Pete. Wouldn't you rather go there to see what they have?"

"Nah, Mykes, I'm just looking today anyway. Just want to get a feel of what kind of rings are available."

Myka feels her panic rising again. But maybe she'll be lucky and Deb won't be working today. Stepping inside the small shop, Myka quickly searches for any sight of the saleswoman. Satisfied Deb doesn't appear to be working today, Myka easily follows Pete to a counter to look at rings.

Pete whistles at all the jewelry on display. "Who knew there were so many different rings to choose from?"

Myka laughs. "I know."

"Hello there. May I help you find something?" comes a familiar voice from behind them. A voice Myka knows belongs to Deb and she isn't disappointed when she turns to be greeted by the woman's smiling face.

For a brief moment, Myka hopes she hasn't been recognized, but that hope is soon dashed as Deb's smile widens in recognition. "Myka, right? How are you? And how is your lovely wife?" she asks interestedly.

Pete laughs, shaking his head fervently. "I think you're mistaking Myka for someone else, she's not married."

Deb looks back at Myka. "No, I'm sure I'm right. I never forget my customers, and Myka came into the store two weeks ago with her beautiful bride to be, Helena to purchase wedding rings. That was your plan, wasn't it?" she asks, her smile fading to concern.

Palming her neck, Myka silently nods, hesitant to look at Pete.

"Wait a minute, I thought you said you and HG aren't dating," Pete says, his voice rising in confusion and disbelief.

"Technically I'm not dating her, Pete…because I'm married to her," she admits, biting her lip in anticipation of his reaction.

Pete looks at her baffled, trying to understand the admission. "It's true? You really are married…to HG?"

Myka lets out a short burst of nervous laughter. "Surprise," she says slipping the chain from around her neck to show the wedding ring.

Pete's eyes widen in shock. "You got married and you didn't tell me?"

"I'll just give you two a moment," Deb interrupts, giving Myka an apologetic look before hastily retreating.

"Pete, you have to understand, it was sort of a spur of the moment decision.

"Spur of the moment?" he raises his brow in disbelief.

"She was going to be deported, Pete. I couldn't let that happen," she answers softly.

"Deported? Why?"

"She forgot to renew her work visa. And Helena and I…we wanted to keep the marriage just between us, at least for a little while. Our…romantic relationship is still so new to us."

Pete's brow rises higher at the statement. "You love her, don't you, Mykes?"

"Of course I love her. I have for a long time," she admits quietly, clear green eyes meeting his briefly before looking away.

Pete nods, accepting her answer. "And HG, she loves you, right?"

Myka bites at her lip, contemplating a truthful answer. "She married me, didn't she?" she answers without meeting his eyes.

"And when exactly were you planning to tell me you got married?"

Never, if things had gone according to plan, Myka thinks. "We hadn't decided when would be a good time to tell you," she tries to explain watching helplessly as Pete turns for the door. "Where are you going?"

"To have a little chat with HG."

"Oh, god," Myka mutters hurrying after him.


Pete strides through the office with purpose, making his way to HG's office, Myka fast on his heels aware of the stares of Claudia, Leena and Steve.

"Where's the fire?" Claudia cracks.

Myka offers a weak smile in return but says nothing, more focused on Pete and what he intends to say to Helena.

"HG, you got some 'splaining to do," he calls out as he storms into her office, removing his coat and tossing it onto an empty chair. Myka quickly closes the door behind her and slowly removes her own coat, knowing Pete plans to stay awhile and she might as make herself comfortable.

Helena stands from behind her desk at his entrance. "I beg your pardon? What pray tell am I supposed to explain to you exactly?" she asks scornfully.

"He found out we're married, Helena."

"Oh? And how did this come about?" she looks at Myka for an explanation.

"Pete wanted to look at rings for Amanda and we went to the same shop you and I went to. The saleswoman remembered me and it sort of spilled out from there," Myka quickly explains, rubbing at her neck in agitation.

"I see," Helena says with a soft look for Myka. "Well then, yes, Pete, Myka and I are married. I fail to see what else needs to be explained."

"Fail to see what needs to be explained?" he echoes incredulous. "How about how, when, where and most important, why I wasn't told that you got married!" he shouts.

"You got married!" Claudia exclaims as she falls through the door she had been listening behind, Steve and Leena with her.

"Lovely," Helena mutters dryly and Myka closes her eyes as if in pain. "Thank you, Pete, for announcing our nuptials to the world before we were ready to announce it ourselves."

"Is it true? You guys are actually married?" Claudia squeals.

"Yeah, Claud, we are," Myka answers her with a weak smile, removing the chain from under her blouse to show the wedding ring dangling from it. Claudia looks to Helena who mirrors the gesture, pulling out her own ring.

"This is so awesome! I knew there was something going on between you!" Claudia says enveloping first Myka and then HG into a rib-shattering hug, oblivious to the apprehensive look Myka and Helena share between them.

"When did this come about?" Leena asks with a wide smile as she also takes her turn hugging each woman.

"Two weeks ago today," Myka says with a quick glance at Helena.

"But why didn't you say something?" Steve asks taking his turn hugging each woman. "Why the secrecy? You know we've all been rooting for you to get together."

"Have you?" Helena asks slightly breathless.

"Well yeah," Steve laughs, "the way you two look at each other…"

"It was inevitable," Leena finishes with a wide smile.

"But why keep your relationship secret?" Claudia picks up Steve's inquiry.

"That's what I'd like to know," Pete says, arms folded across his chest as he turns to look at the married couple, the expression on his face asking for an explanation.

Myka clutches at her ring, aware that Helena beside her is doing the same. "Pete, I thought I explained this to you," she pleads quietly.

"You said you got married because HG was going to be deported."

"That's not all I said," Myka glares at him.

"Wait, what? You're going to be deported, HG?" Claudia sputters.

Helena shoots Pete a withering stare before addressing Claudia. "Hopefully not. I forgot to renew my work visa, so yes, deportation was a threat, but Myka and I decided to marry to avoid that."

"I really hope that's not the only reason you got married," Pete says looking directly at HG.

"Of course it wasn't," she snaps at him. Linking her hand with Myka's she looks into uncertain green eyes, squeezing her hand in reassurance. Turning to the group she goes on. "The fact is, our relationship…our romantic relationship was – and is still very new to us when we realized I might be deported. Unwilling to be parted, we decided to get married and so we are technically sill in the stage of dating even though we happen to live together now.

"And as you may realize, it's a delicate situation that Myka and I are trying to navigate, one that has only been made more difficult since Immigration Services is in the process of investigating our marriage for fraud."

"What? Now way!" Claudia shakes her head. "Can't they see how hot you are for each other?"

Myka blushes at the declaration, avoiding Helena's eyes. Clearing her throat she says, "The investigation is another reason we kept the marriage secret. We didn't want any of you to be involved."

"Why not? We could help," Pete says.

Helena arches a brow. "Says the man who just announced our secret marriage to everyone in the office."

"Hey, I didn't announce it to everyone. Artie doesn't know," he defends.

"Artie doesn't know what?" asks the man himself from the open doorway, Mrs. Frederic standing beside him looking at the little group inside Helena's office curiously.

"Oh, hey, Artie, Mrs. F.," Pete grins. "We were just…having a meeting."

"Yes, I can see that. It seems every time I turn my back you're all in the midst of some meeting rather than working," Artie barks. "But what don't I know?"

Myka sighs. "That Helena and I are married."

"Oh that. Of course I know that."

"What? You told Artie before you told me?" Pete says hurt.

"I know as well," Mrs. Frederic says.

"And Mrs. F.!"

"As HG's employer, who do you think raised the issue of her imminent deportation to begin with?" Artie asks. "Her departure would have had a…certain impact on the office," he sighs.

Helena glares at him, interpreting the sigh as wistful one for a missed opportunity as far as he is concerned.

"Helena is a valuable member of this team," Mrs. Frederic says with a pointed look at Artie who straightens under it. "And I was pleased to know there was so simple a solution for keeping her here in marrying the woman she loves. I'm only sorry for your sake," she says looking at both women, "that things had to be so rushed for you. That you didn't have time to plan a wedding you wanted with family and friends in attendance."

Myka laughs nervously. "The elopement suited me fine. I've never been one for big weddings."

"Nor I. Given the opportunity, I can't say that I would have changed anything about our marriage ceremony," Helena says honestly with a soft look at Myka. "Myka was there, that's all that mattered."

"Oh, that's so romantic," Leena sighs, a hand clutched at her heart. "Now that we do know you're married, there's no need to hide your rings anymore. You can wear them," she encourages, seeing that Helena still clutches at hers.

"Ooh, you should exchange them now," Pete enthuses. "We'll have an impromptu wedding ceremony right here."

"Is that really necessary?" Myka asks with a hand at her stomach trying to settle the fluttering there.

"Ah, come on, Mykes. You're already married, it's not like it's a big deal. You don't have to say vows or anything, just exchange rings."

Except Myka knows very well it's not going to be just an exchange of rings. Their friends are going to expect a kiss at the end of the exchange. Myka looks around the room at all the hopeful faces. Leena, Steve and Claudia grinning at her. Even Artie and Mrs. Frederic are still there, waiting expectantly. Myka turns to look at Helena who answers her with a sympathetic smile.

"We might as well give them what they want, darling," Helena says resigned, sweeping her hair to one side and turning her back to Myka with obvious intent.

Myka steps forward as if in a daze to unclasp the chain from Helena's neck. Never having removed an article of jewelry from someone, she's hesitant as she reaches for the chain adorning Helena's neck. She's struck by just how intimate the gesture is, keenly aware of Helena's soft scent and softer skin under her fingertips. She's also well aware of the stares of her coworkers. If she and Helena had been alone and an actual couple, she can envision dropping a kiss to the back of Helena's neck before removing the necklace. Instead, her fingers tremble and she fumbles with the clasp before finally removing it. And it's awkward removing the chain from Helena's neck to slip the ring off into her hand. She doesn't know what to do with the chain, but Helena takes it from her, setting it on her desk before offering her left hand to Myka.

Taking Helena's hand in hers, Myka easily slips the ring onto her finger just as she did at the ceremony two weeks ago.

Helena smiles at her as if she's done something perfectly right and then she's telling her, "Your turn, darling."

Myka begins to reach for her necklace but Helena halts her progress with a hand on her arm. "Allow me?"

Breathing deeply, Myka turns around, feeling Helena gently gather her hair to move it over one shoulder before reaching for the clasp on her necklace. Helena's fingers are warm against her skin but Myka shudders at her touch as she unclasps the chain with ease, carefully removing it from Myka's neck.

Helena places the chain beside her own on the desk and then she's taking Myka's hand in hers, a hand that is shaking noticeably more than it did two weeks ago, to slip the ring onto her finger. Helena can't account for why Myka should appear more nervous now than two weeks ago, but Myka can. Two weeks ago Myka didn't realize she was in love with Helena until the moment they shared a kiss. Now she knows and more than that, she knows all that she could lose if they don't make this marriage work. Not to mention now they have their friends as an audience.

For a long moment they stand staring into each other's eyes, searching, waiting.

And then Pete's impatient shout of, "Kiss the bride already!" works like a jumping off shot in a race and they are in each other's arms.

Myka will never know who took the first step forward to initiate the kiss, she only knows that she and Helena are kissing, her palm lying gently against Helena's cheek and Helena's lips pressed to hers in an achingly sweet kiss. A kiss that is unhurried and tender, that Myka would love nothing more than to get lost in, but that is broken by the wolf whistle Pete is making and the applause and laughter of everyone else. And as Myka regretfully pulls back from the kiss, the look in Helena's eyes makes her think Helena feels the same regret in pulling away. She's almost positive of it when Helena moves forward again to place a lingering kiss at the corner of Myka's mouth, offering a soft smile before pulling away entirely.

"Now that we've gotten that Hallmark moment out of the way, perhaps you could all return to work?" Artie drawls.

"Oh, Arthur, let them have their moment," Mrs. Frederic admonishes. Stepping towards the newlyweds she give them both a hearty handshake. "Congratulations, ladies. I'm so pleased to know how well things have worked out for you both. Be sure to take some time away from work to have a proper honeymoon," she smiles kindly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Frederic," Helena says. "We'll have to work that into our schedule somehow."

"See that you do," Mrs. Frederic orders, retreating from the office with Artie following after her.

Myka and Helena look at each other bashfully. A honeymoon is just one more aspect of the newly married experience they'll have to consider to keep up appearances.

"Are you happy, Mykes?" Pete asks.

Myka looks at Helena, this intelligent, stunningly beautiful woman whom by some twist of fate she has found herself married to and she reflects on the last two weeks of their married life together. She recalls the hurried mornings taking turns with the shower, the rushed breakfasts and lingering dinners, the playful banter and thoughtful discussions. They've spent quiet moments reading side-by-side or cuddled close to watch movies. They've shared so much of each other in these last two weeks, things they didn't know before – Helena's aspirations as a writer, Myka's desire for a home. Through all of this they've shared laughter and stories, fears and dreams. And every night they share a bed and talk before sleep and in the morning they awake in each other's arms.

And because of all they have shared, with a fond look at Helena, Myka can honestly answer, "Yeah, Pete, I am."

"Then that's good enough for me," he says moving to embrace HG in a hug, lifting her from the floor much to her annoyance.

"Pete, I am not some ragdoll to be carried around, put me down," she insists.

"Geeze, okay, okay. Keep your panties on. At least until you and Myka are alone," he smirks at them.

"Pete!" Myka scolds, punching his shoulder hard as heat suffuses her cheeks at the insinuation and the laughter that follows his words from Claudia, Leena and Steve.

"What? I'm just saying. You are newlyweds after all - I know you want to get your groove on."

"My groove…what…you don't…you know what…never mind, I don't even want to know what you're talking about," Myka stutters.

Pete catches Helena's amused smirk at both his words and Myka's reaction. "HG knows what I'm talking about, right?"

"I pride myself on generally not knowing what you're talking about, Pete," she answers drily.

"Okay, now that's just rude," he complains.

"We really should celebrate your wedding in some way," Leena gushes, effectively quelling any further argument.

"Oh yeah, par-tay," Claudia agrees. "What about a bachelorette party?"

"They're already married, Claudia," Steve shakes his head. "Maybe a reception?"

"That's just a fancy way of saying dinner, right?" Claudia shakes her head dubiously.

"We should give you a bridal shower," Leena says brightly. "I know traditionally they're given before a wedding, but I don't see why we couldn't give you one after."

"Yeah, you should really talk to my sister," Myka says with a resigned sigh.

"Man, I wish we had cake," Pete says. "Cake is a good way to celebrate anything. I wanted to stop for cookies on the way back from lunch. If I wasn't so surprised by this wedding news we could have had those to celebrate with. You owe me cookies, HG," he accuses.

"Who are you kidding, Pete? You'd finish the box before you even got to the office," Claudia says.

"Hey, the bakery's not far from here, there might have been some left to share."

"I'll never understand your logic, Pete," Helena says stepping closer to the childish man who takes a corresponding step backward, raising his arms in surrender. "You blabbed information Myka and I wanted to reveal in our own time and yet somehow I owe you cookies?"

"Yeah okay, no cookies," he shakes his head. "I can see that if anyone owes anyone something, it's me owing the both of you. So what can I do to make it up to you? Name it and I'll do it."

"How do you feel about moving bookshelves?" Myka asks him seriously.


"I'm going to die," Myka groans from the tiled floor of the bathroom hours later.

"I assure you, you're not," Helena replies calmly, dabbing at Myka's brow with a wet cloth.

"I told Pete I didn't want to eat from that taco truck but he insisted it would be fine. And I listened to him! Now I have food poisoning!"

"I'm so sorry, darling," Helena tries to soothe. "What can I do for you?"

"Tell me Pete is sick too?" she asks hopefully but her hopes are dashed when Helena shakes her head. "He isn't?"

"Afraid not. I spoke with Amanda, and he appears to be his normal, charming self," she answers sarcastically.

"Ugh! Maybe it isn't food poisoning then. Maybe I have the flu. Oh, Helena, you should get away from me if it's the flu," Myka says upset. "I don't want you to catch it too.

"Shh, it's not the flu," Helena replies gently brushing the wet cloth along Myka's flushed face, attempting to cool her down.

"But Pete…"

"You know Pete's stomach is made of steel. I'm quite certain that man could swallow down gunpowder and a lighted match and he'd only complain of slight heartburn."

"But…"

"And if it does turn out to be the flu, I'll risk it," Helena interrupts Myka's argument. "I'm not leaving you in this state," she says brushing sweaty curls from Myka's pale face. "Now, I think your need for these facilities has finally expired, shall we get you moved into bed?"

Myka nods weakly, relying on Helena to help lift her from the floor. "I swear I'm going to strangle Pete for this."

"Then you'll have to get in line. I was already planning his demise based on his loud mouth announcing our marriage so that all the office now knows of our nuptials."

"I know, it was horrible. Now we have to fool our friends too," Myka says sitting on the bed heavily, a shiver running through her quickly chilling body.

"Darling, your t-shirt is soiled," Helena says noticing dark stains that dot the shirt from sweating. "I think you had better change into something clean before sleep," she says moving to the closet to pull out a fresh t-shirt.

Continuing the discussion, Helena says, "Pete and everyone else seemed quite favorable to our marriage, so I don't think fooling them as you put it will be so difficult."

"But we're lying to them," Myka blinks tiredly as Helena returns to her with a clean t-shirt in hand.

"Is it a lie that we care for each other?" Helena asks softly.

"No, of course not, Helena. I just don't like misleading them."

"Nor I, but let's take things a day at a time, shall we? And our first order of business tonight is to get you to feeling better." Helena notices the way Myka can hardly keep her eyes open, appearing ready to fall asleep at any moment. "Do you need me to help you change?" she asks slightly discomforted at the thought.

Too exhausted to care about undressing in front of Helena, Myka simply reaches for the hem of her shirt, bringing it up over her head and uncharacteristically lets it fall in a heap on the floor.

Helena tries to keep her eyes from wandering, focusing her attention on folding up the shirt to place it easily over Myka's head. But as she helps guide her arms through the sleeves, she can't help noticing the expanse of skin on display and she purses her lip to keep any inappropriate sound from escaping at the sight of Myka clad in a simple black bra. She quickly pulls the t-shirt down to cover smooth skin, trying to ignore the flush of her own skin.

Myka reaches under her shirt to remove her bra and lets that fall to the floor also before allowing Helena to help guide her under the covers, pulling the duvet over her shoulders.

"Alright?" Helena asks tenderly brushing a curl from Myka's face.

"Yeah," Myka exhales, her eyes closing.

"There's water here on the nightstand for you and some ginger ale to help settle your stomach," Helena says picking up Myka's shirt and bra from the floor and depositing them in a hamper.

"Thank you for staying with me through this – you didn't have to," Myka says weakly.

"Nonsense," Helena responds returning to the bedside, caressing Myka's flushed cheek. "I made you a promise. For better or worse, remember?"

Myka smiles tiredly. "Except we never actually said those words – in either ceremony," she says thinking of the unexpected and brief ceremony they had in Helena's office that afternoon.

"No we didn't," Helena agrees, "but as you once pointed out, the promise was implied and now it's my turn to honor that promise made."

"Mmm," is the only response Myka manages, her eyes drifting closed.

Helena gently strokes Myka's hair, listening for the moment Myka's breathing evens out and sleep at last overtakes her. Only then does Helena lean forward to brush a kiss against Myka's cheek. "Sleep well, love," she whispers.

* "Someday I'll Find You" lyrics by Noel Coward