Chapter 2
A/N Am trying to wrap this up. Thank you for the kind reviews and yes, is a fan of the snag, bag and tag myself. Maybe a few more chapters.
"Well that was a complete waste of time," Myka grunted as she tossed the empty static bag on her bed. Not waiting for Helena's reply as she grabbed her night clothes and marched into the bathroom.
"I would not say that," HG mumbling more to herself then the agent as she took off her jacket, her fingers stilling after half way through smoothing her lapel as she tilted her head to Myka's rough words.
"I think the last thing you would need to know was the transverse history of pornography since your de-bronzing " Myka sighed.
Helena tilted her head as she heard the water turning on in the small bathroom. A mischief grin repressed as quickly as the furrowed frown on her brow. She knew some placating was needed.
Helena could hear the muted sigh from the bathroom, "My thoughts, mind you dar…" clearing her throat before her next words. "Do not misconstrue me, I really enjoyed the modern history lesson in the 21st century means of pleasure and while I do enjoy a good romp at a museum or three …" her words fading as she turned to the slamming bathroom door. Green eyes in a death glare as HG rounded the closet.
"I am not Peter," her hands raised in surrender as Myka stomped out of the bathroom.
"You of all people would know," Myka sighing as she reached for the terry cloth robe.
"Me of all people would what?" Helena saying as she sat down at the cheap faux wood table, perusing the in house menu. "A taste of Cajun would be apropos, Agent Bering?" Myka gripping onto the door jamb of the bathroom as her knees betrayed her body, her heart thumping at a million miles as innocent brown eyes fluttered up at her.
"Is this retaliation for hours of me dragging us to antiquated museums?" Myka asked as she gathered her shampoo and soap.
"Not at all!" Helena retorted as she closed the laptop on the cheap desk. "I am not Peter, Agent Bering. I did so enjoy our sojourn to those museums." Helene's eyes downcast as she nodded to the bathroom. "Your sauna awaits, yes, Agent Bering?"
Myka rolled her eyes as she turned," But do not forget that you are much more than Pete," her shoulders flinching as the door to the bathroom shut.
"I shan't," Helena replied more to herself then Myka as she waited for her turn to use the shower. Since her un-bronzing, HG had become enamored with those newfangled shower stalls. While she waited her turn.
XXX
"Anything of interest, Agent Bering?" Helena asked. After a few indulgent minutes enjoying the modern art of indoor plumbing in this new century, Helena emerged from the small confines of the bathroom. Towel in hand as she halted her progress. The soft hues of silver, blue and gold from the sun rising through their bedroom window stole all thought and breath away.
Her jaw slack as she watched the faint hues dance between Mykas curls, highlighting the warmth of autumn browns with hints of gold. Her fingers stilling, head tilted to the side from drying her hair as she watched the beautiful agent perched on the window sill. The soft mists of steam tracing over the most heavenly lips she had ever witnessed.
"Humm? What was that HG?" Myka's eyes trained on the empty streets below them as lush, full lips gently blew away the offending steam from that cup of coffee cradled in those long, strong fingers.
"My kingdom to trade in place of that mug," Helena mumbled as she approached the bay window, careful to leave just the right amount of proper space from the younger woman as she sat down.
"And that rare, morning grin, I deduce, from the burnt smell of water is not the culprit?" Helena commented with a cheeky grin.
"What?" Myka asked, her words fading as fast as any coherent thought as she watched Helena tilt her head toward the morning warmth of the sun's rays streaming in from the window sill. "There is a blow dryer in the bottom left drawer …" her voice fading as fast as her retracting her outstretched arm that was pointing to the bathroom.
Which, of course, Helena ignored. Opting to further engage their morning conversation. With her head tilted to the side, Helena gave a tight grin. "There are merits to producing dry locks before said inventions," her smile coy as she watched the younger agent repress a choked cough as Helena threaded her fingers through her sun-drying locks.
"Notice anything different down on the street?" Myka squaring her shoulders in a desperate, Hail Mary effort to steel her resolve as she tore her eyes away from said, dark locks, nodding to the street below them.
"A hoarded recreation of the alleyways of 1800 London before underground sewer systems?" Helena tossing the smartass quip over her shoulder as she gather her outfit for the day's hunt.
"Something like that," Myka sighed as she stood up, matching the older woman's moves in the cramped closet, settling on a light, brown leather jacket. Watching the older woman fluff out a light blue linen button up.
"The streets are clear of revelers," Myka halting her thoughts as she caught brown eyes following every inch as her fingers zipped up the ankle high boots.
"Meaning?" was the only coherent word to escape those ruby lips, Helena's sharp-witted mind escaping her for a brief second as she watched those strong fingers zip up those black leather boots, repressing her view of those sensuous ankles.
"Meaning, Wells." Myka was saying as she stuffed the Farnsworth into the tight rear pocket of her black jeans, turning to gather static bags and a map of the city she now was stuffing in her leather jacket.
"Issue?" her words halting, her hands frozen with the half job of slipping her Farnsworth into her back pocket, eyebrows raised as Helena turned from the closet. Green eyes lost on the slow button of white ivory clasps on that light blue, linen shirt, never seeing the quick flash of gold in dark eyes.
"My deduction," Helena started to say, turning away from the stunning sight before her. "We have exhausted all proper means." Helena now sitting down to pull on her brown leather boots, grateful for the release from that prison of green. "And in the wise words of your partner, Agent Lattimer …"
"Don't say it," Myka whispered as she watched her knuckles turn white from the death grip on the hotel door. "Porn shops?" she sighed out as her head softly thumped against the closed door.
"Logic would dictate that as our next avenue of exploration, Agent Bering, would to venture other options," Myka then turning around at the slight glee she perceived in the older woman's voice.
Myka bit her bottom lips as she raised her eyes to meet Helena's. Her hands rising in surrender.
"None of the curators would fess up to a private collection, so, yes." Myka sighed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. A grimace and frown of her brow painted her face as she stepped back, holding the door open for her fellow agent.
XXX
"Aces," Helena remarked as she rested her back against the lift, Myka throwing a frown as she punched the lobby button, multiple times. "During my time, such Shoppe's were candlesti, kept hush hush." Helena quickly bending her head down as she crossed her arms, not wishing to torture the younger woman any further. Myka's hesitance and prudish blush in the room earlier only reinforced Helena's theory of the deep seated, sexual repression from the agent.
During Helena's foyer in the 1800's, all of her female conquests were, well, to be honest, demure and lacking. The last woman, Helena had sworn no more "none shall I be a teacher no more. I have tired of soft, diminutive whispers of repression, not an ounce more of teaching residing in her, of here, more, harder"
Helena sighed as she thought upon that first meeting with the young agent, ''finally, an equal worthy of me' But of the lingering months, the longing looks, the subtle touches amounting to cold, lonely frustrations cried softly into the night by her own hand.
"Interviews," Myka's voice pulling Helena out of her revere, shaking her head, grateful for the reprieve of long ago thoughts she had once repressed while in the bronze.
"And where shall we start?" Helena asking as she shrugged her black leather jacket on, her mind wondering off to the 'so called' interviews she and McShane had conducted while in the employ of warehouse 12. Those of which involving brass knuckles and days of soaking the crimson stains from her clothes.
"No cloak and dagger from your times," Myka turning, unclipping the mag from her gun, checking all was loaded as she slapped the full magazine back into her gun. Helena jumping as Myka loaded the chamber with a harsh draw and click as the chamber was loaded.
"Myka?" Helena half choked as she stepped back from the tall agent, watching with a hint of sadness as Myka tucked her firearm behind her jacket, tugging lightly on her belt to make sure her gun was secure.
Myka turned in time to catch the down trodden shadow leaving Helena's face at the sight of her gun.
"Better to err on the side of caution," Myka giving a half smile as she adjusted her brown leather jacket to hide her firearm. "You okay?" Myka was starting to ask as she raised her hand to grip Helena's shoulder. Her face falling as she watched Helena pull back from her touch.
"I have done countless interviews with this damn thing presses against my kidney," Myka never looking up as she gathered their notes, stuffing them in the leather backpack. "With the Secret Services and the Warehouse," a small smile forming as she slung the leather bag over her shoulder.
"Besides, you have the best toys," Myka grinning as she started to turn the handle of their room door open.
"What?" Helena rushed her breath almost as fast as her hand to stop Myka from opening the door. "I never once shoot a firearm and implored Caturanga to insist on all agents use Tesla's instead of those dreadful things," Helena now blocking the door with her body. "I relished in a good interrogation, letting the prey trap themselves in their own misgivings." her voice fading as her eyes traced around to the back of Myka's jacket.
"The Tesla was, is your security, just as your grappler, yes?" Myka now raising a tentative hand, letting it rest on the bulge of Helena's jacket. "Just as my service weapon is mine," her head bent, a light touch of her finger under Helena's jaw, raising her face, needing, wanting to make eye contact.
"Between the two of us, we must have logged over 10,000 interviews, right?" Myka's eyes crinkled, repressing a knowing smile as she watched Helena's face register the words, the almost smell of that brilliant mind working to solve this puzzle.
"Stop placating me, Agent Bering," Helena huffed after a few short ticks, the agent repressing the smile as she watched the golden flecks of perception in those Mahogany eyes. "Give me those bloody files whilst you drive us to our first interrogation," Helena trying her utmost to retain her front as they rode the lift to the parking garage.
"Coffee and or Tea before we hit our first place?" Myka asking as she drove down Jackson square. "I am assuming that 'The Spice of Life" will open after noon?" Myka clenching the leather grip on the rented SUV, her knuckles turning white as she transverse the local parking garage down in the seeder part of town.
"I thought the retail district was this way?" Helena frowning as Myka pulled her in the opposite direction.
"Interview first," Myka nodding as she held open the small, non-descript door, ushering Helena in with her eyes. Helena stopped mid-entrance, crossing her arms as if a petulant child summoned to the dentist.
"The first victim's family owns this coffee shop," Myka whispered, her hand placed on the small of Helena's back as she ushered them both inside at to the front counter.
Helena's eyes wondered, just as the agent she was trained to be, an annoying sigh escaping her lips as Myka ordered English breakfast tea for the both of them, her then giving a wink and nod to the far wall of the place as she waited for their Benoit's to be cooked.
Helena walked the length of the small, run down place, her arms cinching tighter around her waist as she looked at the penciled in marks on the side of the wall.
"Children?" Helena asking, nodding her thanks for the steaming cup of Earl Grey Myka had handed her. She remembered as she would pencil mark Christine's growth from month to month on the side jamb of their Loo.
"No, Cherie," the owner casting her head down as she rolled out another batch of the sweet tweets.
"Flood levels?" Myka asking, her one hand pulling Helena away from the wall, her head nodding thanks for the coffee the owner switched out. "Chickery" Myka asking as she set the steaming cup of tea in front of Helena, her brow furring as if to say 'stay put'.
"You have the palate," the owner saying as she pulled their breakfast from the deep fryer. Helena arching a brow as powdered sugar was dusted over the pillowy treats. Myka never sat down, pacing and observing the place as their breakfast was made.
Helena shrugged her shoulders as she watched Myka near the counter, the young woman's hand, coffee in place, gestured to her companion in the lone table near the marks. Myka paid, an extra twenty placed in the woman's hand.
"Really?" Helena staged whispered to Myka after the young agent sat down, fluffing a napkin and then settling it in her lap. "Such a huge price to pay, for theses?" Helena wrinkling her nose as she tentatively nibbled at the powder treat.
"Water marks," Myka said in monotone voice as she wiped her fingers on the napkin from the powdered sugar, then sipping her coffee with Chicory as she waited for Helena's questions.
"The markings where once from her grandchild, " Helena following the forefinger Myka was using to point as she held her cup. "And?" the sinking feeling of dread was clawing just under her facade, her eyes darting to the owner, only a small nod was had between the women.
"The water marks show how high the flood waters came, surpassing her grandson's height as Hurricane Katrina hit," Myka looking over the rim of her cup toward Helena. "Marcus Leflore?" Myka whispered, trying to help Helena connect the dots. "Her only grandson survived the storm, only to be ripped away from her last month."
"The first victim reported," Myka sighed, watching as Helena finished off her tea.
"And you think because of our mutual loss, she may be more forthcoming with details?" Helena rapidly controlling her words, trying to keep pace with the cooling of her tea.
Myka hated herself for this, trying and gaining no information as she skipped around the details of the woman's grandson death, her last card to play, hoping HG might open, just a sliver, to the desperate woman.
"You owe me a 30 year aged bottle of Scotch, and will drink with me," Helena mumbled as she swallowed the last of the cold tea. "And for the record," she was saying. "Never, ever, play that grieve card, my Christian, against me.' Helena whispering into the cold, empty cup.
Myka's eyed exploded in wide disbelief, almost choking on her last swig of coffee, "Helena, I would never …" Helena was starting to back away until cool, long fingers covered her own, pulling Helena's shaking form close to Myka.
"Do you have a fag?" Helena asking as she stood from the table, turning when she had not received a reply. Rolling her eyes at the jaw drop of her fellow agent, "A cigarette?" Myka still stunned as she watched Helena raced out the back door, trailing the owner.
XXX
Myka tried to repress the stale odor of cigarettes as they drove down the road, rolling her shoulders to try and relieve her stress. Sitting at the light, waiting for it to turn green into the non-descript shopping center, Myka sighed as she rolled down her window. "Never pegged you for a smoker," Myka chided, turning into the plaza as the light turned green.
"Smoking such things did not raise the err as such with the modern woman of today," Helena replied, eyes focused on the names of the small businesses passing them by, very aware of the glare cast upon her.
"And here we are," Myka said as she shifted the SUV in park, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel, trying to control her breathing as she could not but help the erotic display in the window before them affecting her.
"Got another Fag?" Myka glamping her lips shut at her words, praying the struggle with her seatbelt was enough of a distraction.
"Maybe, if you play your cards right, Agent Bering." Helena was now letting all her pretenses go, her door closed as she leaned against the display of lace underwear on the other side of the glass display.
Myka just nodded her thanks as Helena held the lighter, not admitting to being entranced from the flame that highlighted those flecks of gold in green eyes.
After watching Myka snuff out the cigarette, only after two puffs, she held the door open, then gently guiding Myka to the front window display case. "Is that for sale?" Helena asking the young stoned out front clerk.
"Nah, man. Just some old strap on thing the boss has on display to get freaks to come in."
Myka and Helena gave a quick glance at each other, no words needed. "So where are the vibrators?" Myka asking, needing to get out of the stoner boys view while she snapped on her gloves.
"Darling, be a love and make sure it has battery's?" Helena then giving a faux smile to the young man as Myka rounded the corner of the shop, "So? Anything 'spark' your interest, baby?"
"Not in a million years," Helena grumbled under her breath, following the path Myka had gone down. Her eyes widen at such an eclectic selection. "Myka, be a dear and see if that phallic is indeed our artifact?" Helena asking as she perused the shelf of toys, a low sigh of relief as Myka made her way to the display case.
"Young man? Of which three do you find superior" Helena asking as she distracted the young clerk, watching as Myka bagged the phallic strap behind the man from the display case. Her eyes blinking as sparks flew, her fingers cupping the jaw of the young man, turning him away from the going ons.
"Wrap this up for me," was the last, clear thought Helena remembered as she watched Myka tilt her head, curly locks obscuring the concerned look as Myka stared at the hole burnt in her purple glove after bagging the artifact.