A/N Sorry for the lateness in updates. I feel the need to change the rating soon due to language, scenes that may be too intense for younger readers and yes, maybe some sexual scenes between two women if I feel the muse to do so.
"So, are you really sure about you going out with this woman ... hold that thought, need to burp Kev Jr." Myka pulling the receiver away from her ear as she heard the faint shifting of the baby on Tracy's shoulder. Her face scrunching in mild disgust at the unearthly sounds that she would have sworn was extraterrestrial if not for the fact she was on the phone with her sister.
"I don't know how you do it, Trac," Myka mumbled, more for her benefit of not picturing what was happening. She was tentatively nearing the phone to her ear, only to quickly pull away at another loud, burp like gurgle from her nephew.
"Should I call Mulder and Scully?" she snarked as she pushed every single item of clothing hanging in her closet till they all became one, bunched glob at the far end.
"You are such nerd," Myka turning away from the disaster of a closet as she heard her sister's voice.
"A nerd with gun and so what if I still watch old reruns of that show. I can't help it if stinky diapers and caked on baby throw up tangled in my hair grosses me out." Myka said, almost able to hear her sisters rolling eyes through the phone.
"Just one time, Myka! And you acted all grossed out. Hey honey?" Myka listening as her sister called out for her husband as she had put them on speaker phone. "Hun, I need you to take Kev for a bit, Myka is spazzing." Myka just glared at her phone, unable to, no, refusing to speak till the rage of the seven gates of hell subsided in her.
"But all she does is look at mangled bodies and didn't you say she is going out with some woman that sticks her hands in corpses ..." Myka gritting her teeth as she listened to her brother-in-law's fading voice as he left the room.
"Hey, sorry about that, you know how Kev can be …" Myka uncurled her fisted hand as she snatched up the phone.
"What the hell Tracy? You told Kevin about Helena. How could you do such a fu …" Myka was seething as she heard the phone click.
Myka cursed up such a storm that it would make the saltiest of sailors and greasiest of truck drivers blush till they passed out from the lack of blood to the rest of their bodies.
The low thumping above coupled with a small smattering of plaster dust that was coating her nightstand quilled her ranting. "Sorry Dr. Calder," her voice lowers as she raises her head to the ceiling.
"Great, just effing great," chiding herself as she brushes off some of snowy plaster while walking to her front door.
"Ten, nine," trying her best to bring some sort of order to the chaos of curls, "Eight, seven, six," she whispers as she smooths down her age old college T-shirt. "Five, four," reaching her hand to unlock the two dead bolts on her front door. "Three," the coolness of the steel door handle stilling her fingers as she takes a deep breath. "Two and one" her lips forcing a thin lipped smile as the knocking start.
"Myka, I get that you have a very stressful job …" the older woman marching past the door Myka has held open. Blonde hair waving over a pale blue cardigan, one arm waving half mast, the other gripping the old straw, red handled broom as she makes her way to Myka's bedroom.
"I understand the stress of your job …" Myka rushed into her kitchen, grabbing the bottle of furniture polish from under the sink as the woman went on.
"Fuck!" the word barely out before she shot her towel clothed hand over her mouth, slowing rising from under the sink, causally tilting her head out from under the ledge.
"Yes, some studies would hypothesize that releasing pent up anger, to a slight degree," the woman coming around the wall to meet Myka in the kitchen. "Would slow the development of ulcers, Myka?"
"Hmm, yes ma'am," Myka straightened her long frame, refraining from rubbing the now forming bump on her head. Internally cursing at the throbbing pain
"Towel and polish please?" the older woman setting her broom against the small, two seat dining table near the kitchen. "I did my fair share of dissecting and dealing with blood," the woman taking a quick breath as she took the cleaning agents from Myka's hand. The younger woman following a few steps behind the older.
"Meridian points," the words pulling Myka's attention away from her phone, the faint pings alerting her that her sister was bombing her phone with texts.
"Myka, like I showed you, remember?" Vanessa turning, clearing her throat as Myka put her phone down.
'Call me back when you are calmer and can act like an adult, T '
'Not now, mother earth is busy cleaning up the pounding she gave my ceiling, M '
"Myka, sit." the woman nodding her head to the edge of the bed, "And you will have time to chat with your sister about what to wear after we are finished," Myka opened her mouth, about to ask what the … when she turned to follow Vanessa's eyes trained on her disheveled closet.
"The long hours, the sleepiness you put in, I can tolerate, but, that mouth of yours," Both women shaking their heads, faint smiles were forming at their silent understanding. The first time, Vanessa had pounded so hard that part of the old plaster ceiling above Myka's bed fell. Which, intern caused a loud yelp when a large chunk struck Myka square on the head. Vanessa's footfalls rushing down the wooden stairs caused Myka to rush her door. Hand held against her forehead as blood trickled through her fingers, gun in the other as the two women met at gunpoint.
A unique bond was forged that night, whenever the younger cursed, the older would pound, then rush down in ten seconds flat to help clean the mess and dose out the pros and cons, 'Eastern medicine versus Western. A harmonized balance is best," Vanesa once chuckled after stitching the small gash on Myka's head. Then rolling her eyes as she tried to teach the younger woman the merits of pressure points versus Advil.
XXX
"Are you calm now?" Tracy asking as she sat back in the old wicker loveseat Myka had gotten for her when the back pains from carrying the baby started in. Both deciding it would fit perfect on the back porch overlooking the small canal.
"Yeah," she sighed as she tucked her legs under herself in their dad's old Barcalounger next to the window overlooking the small park near her apartment. It was her fondest memories of her and her father, many nights spent on his lap while he read to her.
Mom had insisted on throwing that old thing out after Kevin bought a fancy, self-lifting chair. The old man barked and huffed and refused to give up the recliner until one night, tears in his wife's eyes as she watched him struggle to get up.
"Myka, please. He will never release that chair unless you tell him you want it," Myka sighed, trying to mask the soft sobs threatening the life within her.
"You know he has never been the same after that horrible car crash. The stubborn fool refusing to believe he could ever stand on his own," Jeannie was now crying uncontrollably, her words coming out in hiccups and grief.
"Okay Mom, shhh, I'll be there in the morning," Myka hung up, the cursing flowing as fast as her tears. The heavy crush against her chest at the realization that her father, strong as oak, was now faltering. That was the very first night the low thumping on her ceiling begun.
"So, all she said was to dress casual?" Tracy set her mug down, Myka hearing the tapping of her younger sister finger on her chin, knowing she was scanning every glossy magazine in her mind.
"Pants and those power suits are out," Tracy hummed.
"And why is that?" Myka trying to control the err in her tone.
"Remember that charity softball game your station had?" Myka could feel the smile and something scary in that tone.
"Yeah, I remember, it was Helena's first weekend here on staff so she sat in the bleachers, so what?" Myka reaching over to fill her glass with dad's favorite smoky Scotch.
"So, it was the looks, and lots of them coming from her when you rounded the bases." Tracy giggling a bit at her thoughts.
"And how would you know?" Myka gulping down a long sip.
"Because …" Tracy drawing out the words, knowing it annoyed the hell out of her big sister.
"Don't make me start cursing; the da ...dang plaster on my ceiling is still tacky,"
"Anyhow big sis, seems Dr. Wells found herself joining Kevin and I while we cheered you on. Asking questions about the game, about the shorts you chose to wear instead of the long pants the whole team wore," Tracy was smirking and could care less if Myka was getting pissed. "After a few of Kevin's painted cocktails, that sexy accent was coming out thicker with each question, asking more about you then the game," Tracy smirked.
"Meaning what, bratty little sister?" the warmth of the smoky liquid warming her veins did little help with the brain cells trying to fire on all eight cylinders.
"Legs," Tracy hummed as she stretched, feeling the siren call of bed.
"What do you mean legs?" Myka's words a bit slurred, as was her brain cells wearing down as she stumbled toward her bedroom.
"Just saying, big sis, I would have traded my prom crown just to have your legs for days," yawning as she fell into her own bed, Kevin grunting at the harsh dip in the mattress.
The phone then going silent.
"Tracy, Tracy!"
"Yeah, what? And stop shouting, dang big sis, that sexy thing was so wrapped up in watching your gams, even saying that medical term or whatever for each muscle."
"You need to stop watching Agent Carter, gams, really? That was before dad's time." Myka holding back a yawn as she fell into her bed.
"Gams, legs for days, whatever," Tracy's voice becoming muffled as she nuzzled her face behind Kevin's neck.
"Myks?" came in a sleepy tone.
"Yeah, Trac?" Myka holding the back of her hand over her mouth to hide the long yawn.
"That sexy little black dress," Tracy mumbled.
"What about it?
"Still have it?" her voice becoming a slight snore. "The one mom made you get when you graddde...after cop school, she made you buy."
"I remember," Myka's eyes searching for holes in her eye lids.
"Wear it,"
"Thanks sis," Myka's voice fading to a whisper.