The following evening you're busy in the kitchen preparing to make chicken soup for dinner. The rain hasn't let up over the weekend and the idea of soup appealed to you and Helena, who is in the living room at the moment practicing. The piece she's playing sounds complicated to your ears, and you're sure if you were to step into the living room, it would be to see her fingers flying across the strings, racing with the bow in her other hand to finish the piece.

You thought you'd grow tired of hearing her play everyday and often the same pieces, but you haven't. In fact, you love to watch her, the way her head tilts to the side, the violin fit snugly against her, the way her brow turns focused and intent, the way her fingers curl around the strings just so. She is beautiful to watch, and you would watch her now, but if you do, you'll be eating fashionably late.

So instead, you step to the refrigerator to gather some carrots to add to the soup. When you close the door, you pause a moment, as you so often do, to look at the sonogram picture Helena placed on the door weeks ago after that monumental appointment. The black and white photo is a bit grainy, but you never fail to trace with your eyes the outline of a head, little hands and tiny feet and a smile forms on your lips to see little Christina this way.

With a last glance at the photo, you take the carrots to the sink to begin washing them before cutting them to add to the soup. Before you finish washing them though, a sound from the living room catches your attention. Helena has finished the fevered piece she was playing before to replace it with a much softer melody. A melody you would recognize anywhere.

Grabbing a dishcloth to dry your hands, you take it with you into the living room where you lean against a wall to watch Helena play. Her eyes are closed and her body gently sways in time to the music. You feel the tears come to your eyes unbidden and hastily brush them away as Helena finishes the song and opens her eyes to look at you as if she knew you were there watching her the entire time.

She stands, holding the violin and bow on either side of her. "Myka? Are you alright?" she asks concerned.

You nod. "Yeah, it's just…Moon River…that's one of my favorite songs and the way you played, Helena…it was beautiful."

"Thank you, darling. I had gathered it might be a favorite of yours, after last night, that is."

"Last night?" you ask, your heart beating wildly within your chest.

"Yes, when we began watching the movie, I fell asleep rather promptly, but I awoke during the song…when I felt your hand in my hair," she admits.

You look away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"No, you misunderstand, Myka," Helena quickly tries to explain. "The feel of your fingers running through my hair was so gentle and soothing. I enjoyed the touch immensely…it's just I noticed your ministrations only lasted as long as the song. Music…it has a way of letting us forget ourselves…and just…feel."

You nod helplessly, twisting the towel in your hands. You're not sure how to respond, or if maybe now you should take a chance and say the words aloud that have remained lodged in your throat.

"Dinner will be ready in a little while," you say instead, hating yourself a little for it. "So, I'll uh…just get back to the soup…in the kitchen," you stumble over your words.

"Of course," Helena answers quietly…and is that disappointment in her voice? "It smells delightful, as always," she says turning away then.

Dinner is a quiet affair, neither of you seeming to have anything to say. Afterwards, you wash the dishes and Helena dries, as usual, but the silence remains deafening.

As you settle on the sofa with a book to read, you're almost certain Helena will retire to her bedroom, but you're relieved when she settles beside you instead, with a book of her own to read. You study Helena out of the corner of your eye, aware of her every movement and when you see her fighting off a yawn, you reflexively grab a pillow to place in your lap.

Helena takes it for the invitation it is as she settles against you. "Thank you, darling," she says quietly. You hesitate only a moment before you gently slip your fingers into her hair, hearing Helena moan at the touch.

"Is this alright?" you ask nervously.

"Lovely," Helena breathes and you're inclined to agree with her pronouncement. Your fingers move so effortlessly through the silky strands. It's such a contrast to your own curly tresses where even running a brush through your mane of curls is a challenge.

"Moon River," you begin quietly and feel the change in Helena's breathing as she listens intently to your voice, "I've always loved that song. I'm not even sure why," you laugh lightly. "Something about the words and the melody it's…hard to describe."

"There's no need to describe how it makes you feel, often words don't do justice anyway. It's enough that it does make you feel," Helena says. "That's why I love music so much, the way it evokes such emotion in us…it can be quite powerful, a balm to the soul."

"And you can play the song from memory?"

Helena adjusts slightly so she can look up to meet your eyes. "I can play many pieces from memory, but I feel I must confess, Moon River happens to be one of my favorites as well. I learned to play the song years ago, when I was still just a girl. It's something we have in common, you and I," Helena says softly.

You smile then. "Huckleberry friends, are we?"

"After the same rainbow's end?" Helena asks softly and you swallow hard at the question and the possible meaning behind it.

Helena sighs when you don't answer right away and turns away again. "My orchestra is giving a concert next weekend. I can get you a ticket if you'd like to attend?"

"Yes, I'd like that, Helena, thank you." The words come out a little breathless but Helena nods silently and soon enough her breathing evens out as sleep overtakes her.

You sit in silence, the book at your side long forgotten as your fingers continue move with ease through dark strands.

It never occurred to you that you would have reason to wear a formal dress during your stay in London. But with Helena's invitation to see her concert, you're in need of one. Thankfully, you manage to find a dress. You're still not sure how you managed to do it on your lunch break one afternoon, but the saleswoman said the color suited you, bringing out the green of your eyes and you took her at her word.

The apartment you share with Helena is a flurry of activity the early evening of the concert as you and Helena both prepare to dress for the evening. Helena has to be at the theater a good hour before the concert and you offered to accompany her despite her protests that the theater doesn't open until a half hour before the start of the concert.

"Then I'll bring a book and wait," you say.

"Where will you wait?"

"I'll wait at the restaurant. We really should eat before, I can take you to dinner," you say.

"Myka, thank you, but I don't usually eat before a performance."

"You may not, but I'm guessing Christina is going to protest that habit," you say grinning. You don't know what Helena's eating habits were before her pregnancy, but these days you know she eats regularly and heartily.

"You're right of course," she sighs touching her growing stomach. "All right then, we'll have dinner before, but just something light."

Drying your hair from the shower, you think about the evening to come and feel heat rise to your cheeks as you realize, in another light, this could be considered a date. You and Helena have eaten dinner together too many times to count, but rarely go out and never in formal wear.

Of course, this isn't a date you remind yourself. This is what Helena does for a living, she's a musician and she just happens to have to wear formal attire for the concert she performs in. As for dinner, everyone has to eat and Helena only agreed because her pregnancy will make it intolerable for her to wait until after the concert to eat.

With a sigh, you slip into the dress, a deep green of such a shade to be almost black in a certain light. The dress is sleeveless which makes you a little uncomfortable, but it felt tight enough when you tried it on in the store and seems to fit well now. Slipping on the small jacket that completes the dress, you catch your reflection in the mirror and have to admit the saleswoman didn't lead you astray.

When you step out of the bathroom, you intend to make your way to your bedroom to put on your shoes and find a purse but a curse uttered from Helena halts you in your tracks. Approaching her bedroom, you gently push the opened door further to reveal Helena standing, trying desperately to pull the zipper up on the back of her dress and failing miserably.

Despite her frustration, she looks radiant in a black dress with shoulder straps and a long, flowing skirt. She doesn't notice you in the doorway and sits upon her bed defeated, tears forming in her eyes.

"Hey, do you need some help?" you offer stepping into the room.

"Myka," she says looking up at you and anything else she intends to say dies on her lips as she studies you. Her eyes roam slowly over the bodice of your dress, so slowly you feel the familiar heat travel from your sternum to your cheeks and pull at the jacket self consciously, trying to cover what is so evidently on display tonight.

Helena smirks at the action and you blush deeper. Clearing your throat you say again, "Do you need help?"

The smirk on Helena's face instantly dissolves to be replaced by tears. "I can't fit into this dress, Myka. I bought it several weeks ago, when it was still too large for me, and now it doesn't fit, I've gained so much weight."

"Helena," you speak gently, "you're six months pregnant, you're supposed to gain weight." Grasping her hand you help her stand again. "Here, let me try, okay?"

She nods giving her assent and you step behind her to see so much pale skin on display it makes your heart begin to beat erratically. Admittedly, you've imagined Helena in a state of undress before, but your imaginings were of taking her out of clothes rather than putting her into them. The contrast would make you laugh if you weren't already shaking.

You're hands are slick and the zipper slips once, twice before Helena is asking gently, "Is everything all right, Myka? I can feel you trembling."

"No, no, everything is fine. They just make these zippers so small on dresses, it's difficult to grasp them sometimes."

"Yes, I quite agree," she replies as finally, you manage to grab hold of the zipper and slowly pull it up the back of the dress.

"There," you say triumphantly. "The dress fits perfectly, Helena. It was just having the zipper in the back that caused all the trouble for you."

"You didn't seem to have any trouble with yours," Helena says her eyes shining.

"Because my zipper is on the side of the dress," you laugh as you turn to your side to show her.

"Good to know," Helena remarks with a grin and you turn before Helena can see yet another blush rise to your cheeks.

"Shall we go then?" you ask.

"Lead the way, darling."

The formal attire you and Helena wear earns a few bemused stares from the other occupants of the little deli located a block away from the theater, but as you settle down at a table just big enough for the two of you and begin eating soup and sandwiches, you can't bring yourself to mind. Helena is quite easily the most stunning woman in the room and you have a difficult time not staring at her yourself.

"This chicken noodle soup is good, but it doesn't compare to yours, Myka," Helena speaks honestly. "Christina prefers yours as well," she smiles at you.

"Well that's a relief. Now I know I won't have to worry about being replaced," you smile in return.

"Never," Helena agrees and the way she says it so adamantly makes your heart flutter.

"Have you given anymore thought to a restaurant of your own? I'm sure it would be quite successful."

"Thanks, but I haven't really given it serious consideration. Owning a restaurant means investing money I just don't have right now, not to mention the long hours I mentioned before. Besides, I think I've found my niche in teaching. The students are eager to learn and it reminds me everyday why I enjoy being a chef when I see the excitement through their eyes when a new recipe comes together exactly right, or sometimes, even when it doesn't. And, at the end of the day, I come home to you," the last sentence escaping from your lips before you can reign them in.

Helena's dark eyes meet yours. "I'm quite glad to come home to you as well, Myka," she admits. It's a pleasant feeling to know you'll be home after a long day, to cook with you, eat and talk with you…just as we're doing now," she smiles.

"Yeah, it is a good feeling," you breathe.

The concert is spectacular. Helena managed to get you a ticket in the twelfth row center and you have a perfect view of her the entire night. She's one of the first chair violinists and you knew her talent was extraordinary before, but now, among the rest of the orchestra, you're completely in awe. It's amazing to you how all the different sounds of the instruments come together to create a piece of music that tells a story. The timpani drums and bassoons, violins and French horns, flutes and cellos, all so different in sound and shape, but together, they harmonize so beautifully.

But to your mind, Helena is the masterpiece. She's so beautiful up on the stage illuminated under the lights and she alone stands out to you among her fellow musicians. She stands out to the rest of the audience as well when she stands to play a solo piece, Mozart's violin concerto no.1 . It's the same piece you've listened to her play everyday for weeks. It takes on a new level now among the rest of the orchestra and as you rise to your feet with the rest of the audience to applaud her, your smile can't be contained and your hands ache from clapping so exuberantly.

Afterwards, as the crowd clears the auditorium, you find a stagehand to help guide you backstage to find Helena. You stand at a distance, watching her among her fellow musicians, laughing and smiling as they offer her congratulations on a well-performed solo. She turns and catches sight of you and your heart flutters as her eyes shine and her smile grows wider.

"Myka," she says walking towards you, "did you enjoy the concert?"

"Helena, you were incredible," you say, "breathtaking, It's obvious you belong on stage."

"Thank you, darling," she says squeezing your hand affectionately, her eyes never wavering from yours.

"Helena," another musician interrupts the moment between you, "a group of us are going to get drinks, maybe some dinner, do you want to come along?"

"Thank you, Woolly, but no. Myka and I have already eaten and you know I won't be drinking for sometime," she smiles cradling her stomach.

"Myka? This is the woman you've spoken about, the woman who is the reason I hardly see you anymore outside of rehearsals," he says jovially looking at you with interest.

"Woolly, really," Helena chastises and she looks at you with a blush rising in her cheeks.

"You must introduce us properly, Helena," he admonishes.

"I thought I just did, but if you insist," she says taking your hand. "Myka, this is a dear friend of mine, William Wolcott, otherwise fondly known as Woolly. And Woolly, this is Myka Bering, my flat mate from America. Satisfied, Woolly?" she asks amused.

"Mollified, at least," he says extending a warm hand to shake yours. "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bering, and really I should thank you for taking this one off my hands," he says gesturing to Helena. "Living with her a for a couple months now, I'm sure you must have realized by now how exasperating she can be."

Helena gives Woolly a playful shove pretending to be offended and you laugh at the two of them, they reminding you of the way you and Pete interact. "She can be exasperating, can't she?" you tease, well aware of the look of mock outrage Helena is giving you.

"Most definitely," Woolly adds, but she can also be quite lovely."

"Absolutely," you agree looking at Helena who is looking back and you're not aware the conversation has lulled until you hear Woolly's cheerful voice once more, startling you and Helena both.

"Well then, I can see food is of little consequence to you both at the moment," he says with a grin and you flush knowing he's caught you staring at Helena a little too long. "Are you absolutely sure I can't interest you both in joining the group?" he asks again politely.

"Really, Woolly, I'm much too tired to eat," Helena says. "As Myka can attest, it's already past my usual bedtime," she laughs.

Woolly looks to you for confirmation. "It's true," you agree, "she's usually falling asleep on the sofa an hour after we've had dinner. I have to wake her to get her to go to bed."

"All right then," Woolly says, "you two lovely ladies have a safe journey home and I'll see you soon, Helena," he says kissing her cheek.

"Goodnight, Woolly," Helena calls after him before turning towards you. "Let's go home," she asks linking her arm with yours.

"Myka, I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own violin," Helena protests as you make your way into the apartment building.

"I'm well aware of that, but I'm equally capable of carrying it, and I'm not the one who just played in a concert for over two hours whilst pregnant. You're all ready tired as it is, so let me help you, however insignificant it may be."

"Whilst?" Helena laughs. "Oh, darling, I'm afraid the natives have worn off on you."

"It's a common word," you argue.

"Have you ever used it before now?" Helena asks amused.

"No…but when in Rome…or London…"

"Yes, only I can't even remember ever using that word. And as to being insignificant, you're hardly that, Myka. Your presence in my life has actually been quite opposite," Helena says softly.

"I can say the same about you, Helena," you reply honestly. You've reached the door to your apartment then before anymore can be said on the sensitive subject you fumble through your purse for the keys.

"May I take the violin off your hands now?" Helena asks.

"Yeah, maybe you should before I drop it," you agree handing the case off to her, briefly meeting her amused glance.

Flipping on the light switch, you follow Helena into the apartment and watch as she sets the violin down carefully on the sofa. You're suddenly nervous being alone with her. The night has alternated between equal parts easy conversation and banter and a spark of underlying tension.

You're uncertain how to proceed exactly so you fall back into something familiar. "So, are you hungry at all? I can fix you something to eat before bed," you offer starting to move towards the kitchen.

Helena reaches out to lightly grasp your arm, effectively halting your progress. "I'm not hungry, Myka," she assures. You can feel the brush of her thumb through the fabric of your jacket and your heart beats just a little faster at the gentle touch.

"Thank you for tonight, Myka," Helena says softly. "It meant a great deal to me to know you were in the audience."

"It was my pleasure, Helena. You were amazing…you are amazing," you quickly amend.

"Thank you."

You nod and take a step back. "Well, if I can't fix anything for you, I suppose we should get some sleep."

"Yes, I suppose so," Helena agrees tiredly, removing her coat. "Would you mind unfastening the zipper for me before you retire?"

"Of course," you say as Helena turns so you can access the zipper. You're able to slide the zipper down without any issue, effectively parting the dress. A strap falls down Helena's shoulder, but she grasps it as she turns to face you once more.

"Goodnight, Myka," she says before turning to walk down the hall.

You watch her until she disappears behind her closed door, only then releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding.