The Things We Cling to Consume Us
Trigger Warning: Just to be on the safe side, I'm going to call it self harm (more artifact than deliberate, but still...)
Part One
It began as just an inkling of an idea, nothing more. How could it be a thought when her mind couldn't focus on anything as he said those words, "I think we might be looking at cancer"? It was just an echo, not yet even a nagging one, lost to the deafening silence of her mind as she stared past the doctor. Her only anchor in that moment was the bit of metal she clutched in her pocket. Warmed from the heat of her skin, it seemed to thrum with life, comforting, steadying life.
But even the smallest of ideas can persist. They can take root and begin to extend and branch out, laying down the groundwork for growth. It took root in those still moments between covert appointments and artifact retrievals when her fingers would slip into her pockets, running reverently over the planes, grooves and hinges of the locket,twining her fingers in its chain. When the silent echo grew to be too much, she'd pull the trinket from her pocket, whether to open it, to look at it, or just to feel its familiar presence without the bounds of cloth. It was one of the few comforts she had those days, while the doctors grew increasingly concerned with how quickly the cancer was spreading.
Artie was the first to know of her illness; the number of appointments had begun to be too numerous to hide with vague excuses. Claudia had found out next. Myka had walked into the office one morning and Claudia had just stared at her, stunned and afraid. She didn't ask how Claudia had found out, it was probably better if she didn't know the details, but just pulled the younger woman into her arms.
Pete had been the hardest to tell. She'd had a few false-starts before she managed to stumble over the words. All the while, her fingers bit into the locket, holding it desperately, trying to draw strength from it. Pete had been shocked, upset she hadn't told him sooner, but mostly, he raged at the disease that was growing in her body. That was when the idea that had echoed through her mind gained it's voice. For a moment, she wasn't in the Warehouse with Pete; she was in a bookstore in Colorado. She could almost see Helena in front of her, unkempt and remorseful, pleading, "A hundred years ago, I went into the Bronzer filled with hate. It grew inside me like a cancer. All I thought about was what I'd lost, what the Warehouse had taken from me, turned me into."
It was a crazy thought. The locket couldn't be causing her cancer or making it spread quickly. It was just a locket. Helena had carried it for years without any adverse effects, and Helena hadn't even had the locket on her person while she was Bronzed. While Helena's hate had been growing like a cancer, the locket had been safely stored in the Escher vault. So, it couldn't be an artifact. It was just a coincidence, or another parallel in the story of Bering and Wells- like Neanderthals, or walking away from your truth. It was just a crazy idea.
The trouble with that was Myka had seen too much to put much stock in coincidences. Her suspicion the the locket may be an artifact grew, as did her reluctance to put the idea to the test. She didn't share her suspicions with the others. The locket was one of her last tangible links to Helena; if it proved to be an artifact, she'd be forced to give that up. She stopped taking it out of her pocket when anyone else was around, stopped leaving it on her bureau when she slept. She only slept with it hanging around her neck with the warm weight of it settled against her chest, close to her heart. Even as her paranoid precautions grew, she found herself clutching it in her pocket with an increasing frequency.
She couldn't be sure who had told Helena - Pete, Claudia, Artie, it may even have been a group effort. During one of her appointments, Helena appeared minutes after Pete wandered off in search of food. Myka had felt her approach. Without looking up from her book, she tensed as Helena lowered herself into the seat beside her. Minutes passed in silence, tension swelled between them, and just when Myka could not stand it any longer, it broke.
"You should have told me, but I can understand why you wouldn't. Regardless, I am here now. I know there is much that we need to discuss, but that can wait. For now, just know that I am here. I'm not going anywhere."
Myka risked a glance at Helena, Helena who just looked at her with a mix of resolve, determination and sheer devotion, and Myka could hardly stand it. Helena's gaze left her feeling raw, exposed, vulnerable. Like always. Except, it had been some time since Myka was comfortable with Helena seeing all of her - three months, two weeks, and six days - and it made her itch in a way Helena's presence never had - before Boone. The unease clawed at every nerve ending, until all she wanted to do was run. She settled for looking away, her gaze never coming to rest on any one particular thing until she slipped her hand into her pocket. The bit of Helena that she carried with her soothing her in a way that she didn't dare allow the Helena beside her.
Any attempt at a meaningful discussion, and Helena did make a number of valiant attempts, went about as well as could be expected when Myka's distrust of Helena seemed to grow daily. Helena had backed off for the moment, hoping time would prove what her words could not, but it seemed to only make Myka bristle more, sure she was constantly being observed for any irregular behavior. Some small - very small - part of Myka wondered if Helena still knew her better than she knew herself. She stopped wearing the locket around her neck at night. Helena had taken to appearing in her room at odd hours of the night, "Just to check up on her," and it would only take a glimpse to lead to the questions she didn't want being asked. Then, the locket would be gone - and Helena gone not long after.
Instead, it remained in her pocket, and when Myka's health deteriorated to the point where she needed some assistance with some basic human needs, she kept a wary eye on her discarded article of clothing until she had safely secreted the locket away in her new change of clothes. She couldn't do more than that without rousing the others' suspicions. Not that it mattered much, in the end.
Helena eased Myka down so she could sit on the edge of the tub as she helped Myka out of her pajama pants. A routine that had become only slightly less uncomfortable over the past week. Though, Helena helping her was better than letting Pete help, she would have to admit. Her eyes never wandered, making Myka feel a little less like she was on display, and she did her best to put Myka at ease, completely aware that Myka was uncomfortable - both with needing the help and with Helena being the one to help. Myka's eyes lingered longingly on the pants as Helena meticulously folded them.
"Claudia, could you give me a hand for a moment?"
Myka panicked when Claudia walked into the bathroom, purple gloves already on her hands, "No!" Myka lunged for the pants as Helena passed them off to Claudia, or she tried to. The strength in her limbs fell short of her desperation to reach the locket before it could be taken away and neutralized. Helena caught her before she could reach Claudia - or crash headlong into the floor - and wrapped her arms firmly around Myka, holding her tight as she struggled.
"It's going to be alright, darling. Claudia, check the pockets."
"I've got it!"
"No! Don't, please! I need it!" Myka's thrashing increased, and even with her weakened condition, Helena had some difficulty controlling her. Myka tensed, her mouth open in a silent scream as sparks flew up from the static bag, before her body went limp.
"Is she okay?"
"I think so, but we'll call Dr. Calder just in case. We'll know more when she wakes. Will you help me get her back to bed?"
"Yeah." Claudia set the sealed static bag on the sink, and together they got Myka settled back in her bed.
AN: Part two should be up in a few days.
On a side note, I was just listening to The Pretty Reckless's "Waiting for a Friend". Another song perfect for the ever-growing Bering and Wells angst playlist I've got going.