Chapter Eleven
Wow, these chapters are getting really long! I spent a lot of time this week trying to get my head around the timeline for this little WH13 world I'm going off at a tangent with. I had to change HG and Myka's moving to their own house date, but other than that, I think everything else is ok-ish.
After reading and re-reading this chapter, I'm still not sure if I went overboard with Jeanie Bering's reaction to Myka's news; I've been incredibly lucky in that my family and friends have always been very supportive, so don't have first-hand experience of homophobia from the people I love. Sadly, I expect there are many of you out there who have dealt with that struggle. Any constructive criticism is always welcome.
Thank you to all reviewers, faves and followers; your support keeps me going when I'm stuck!
HG stood at the sink in her kitchen, surrounded by the discarded tools of the afternoon's labour, cursing her decision to surprise Myka with a Thanksgiving feast.
How she had become so domestically orientated in recent weeks was something of a mystery. If anyone had told her in her youth that she would one day become the epitome of a housewife, she'd have scoffed with derision and told them in the unkindest terms where they could stick their gender stereotyping.
She supposed the answer was simple really. Losing her child had given her insight into the things that truly mattered to her, and pushing Myka away had taught her to see how destructive her hatred and anger could be. Having a second chance to make things right on both accounts persuaded her to be more accepting of a traditional role. Christina enjoyed the time spent together each day and Myka took on her fair share of housework when she was at home. They were a family. They worked together accordingly and occasionally she found a certain amount of enjoyment in the simple tasks.
With Myka in Colorado, visiting her parents, the inventor had felt suddenly lonely and on a whim had invited Leena and Lila over to keep her company, under the guise of teaching her a few foreign recipes.
Now, she felt crowded. Leena looked at her like she knew exactly what was on her mind and Lila was far too bubbly for her current mood to cope with.
They were keeping Christina happily entertained though, so every now and then HG managed to slip out the back door for a breath of air. That was exactly what she did once the sink was clear and all the pots were drying.
Wrapping a thick shawl around her shoulders, Helena stepped out onto the decked area behind the house and automatically let her gaze wander skyward.
How did the absence of one person manage to leave such a hole inside her? Was this how Myka had felt every time HG had chosen or been forced to leave the Warehouse? It had probably been much worse than this. Myka had not known when or if she would ever return and then in Boone she had practically told the brunette that she was not wanted.
Cowardice, she thought to herself scathingly.
They had come a long way together in a relatively short time. She wished she had insisted on accompanying the younger woman to at least be close by when she finished talking to her parents, but in the end, she had respected Myka's need to do this on her own.
Now it was eating at her.
Over the last two weeks, something had changed between them. The couple of artefact grabs that had taken the field agent far away from home had brought a hollow ache to the inventor's chest that had never been there before. At least, not to the same degree. She was feeling the absences much more acutely and it showed in her mood swings.
"HG?" Leena's voice battled through the chill in the air to reach the inventor. "We're almost done in there. We're going to go soon, so I just wondered if you wanted a moment to talk about whatever's bothering you."
The Victorian swallowed her initial uncharitable response and huffed her annoyance instead. "I'm being selfish, wanting her to stay close to home all the time, but this waiting around is bloody unbearable!... Bollocks," she muttered to herself as she realised that she had begun to pour her heart out without meaning to. What is wrong with me?
Leena stepped up close to the time-traveller, pulling her own coat tighter around her shoulders to stave off the icy breeze. "You feel what you feel, HG. You can't help that. If the feeling is there, then there must be a reason for it. Perhaps you need to figure out why you're feeling this way before you can tackle it."
"I just need her here. Every time she goes away recently, I'm restless. The reason continues to elude me." Helena drew her shawl closer to her body, attempting to drive away the cold that wasn't entirely due to the weather. "I thought I had dealt with my fears and insecurities while we were still at the bed and breakfast. Now I'm not so sure... It feels different. As if it is not entirely under my control."
"You think it might be the influence of an artefact?" The B&B owner asked curiously. "When would you have come into contact with one? Unless you think Myka's the one who's been affected and you're feeling it through her?"
"I wish I knew. Either way, I feel as if my skin is crawling constantly and I won't be able to relax until she's home." HG finally decided that it was too cold out and moved back indoors. She could hear Christina and Lila in the living room so ducked into the dining room out of earshot. "Before you ask, Myka and I have spoken about this, though she's not yet aware that the symptoms have been worsening. I intended to see how this latest separation progressed before sharing my findings with her. Now however, I wish I had insisted on travelling with her." She began to pace the room while occasionally running her fingers through her hair and wringing her hands.
Leena moved into her path and placed both hands firmly on the inventor's shoulders. "HG, we can't leave you like this until Myka returns. Either we need her to come home early, send you and Christina to her, or find some way to keep this anxiety at bay until she returns."
"It's only a two day trip." Helena clenched her teeth and sighed. She very much wanted Myka to come home but didn't want to interrupt her personal mission. "She needs to talk to her parents and I told her that I'd respect her decision to do that on her own."
"Option three it is then." She smiled at the dissatisfied expression on the raven-haired woman's face. "I think you should have dinner with us tonight. That way," she continued before HG could protest. "You won't have to worry about Christina if you need some alone time."
"Very well," the agitated woman agreed once she'd taken a moment to think about it.
The eight year old was excited to be going out for the evening and raced upstairs to fetch the blue-prints she'd sketched for Claudia. The two of them had conspired to build a playhouse in the younger girl's back garden and the computer whizz had sent Christina away with homework after their last brain storming session.
Christina charged ahead of the adults, impatient to see Claudia. As the bed and breakfast was visible from her own home, her mothers often allowed her to go ahead of them while they strolled along at their boring adult pace. At any other time, she would be expected to stay by their side and in their sight, particularly for her Mummy, so she always took the opportunity to dart ahead when it presented itself.
She found her new idol lounging in her usual man-eating beanbag, laptop perched in its proper place on her knees.
Flopping down on the floor, skirt billowing like a parachute around her, Christina grinned over the top of the screen and waited for the tech genius to acknowledge her.
It was a battle of wills that could continue for several minutes if they were both of a like mind. On this occasion though, barely twenty seconds passed before the corner of Claudia's mouth turned up and a matching grin spread across her face. "Heya Squirt. S'up?"
"I have the blue-prints," Christina replied, pride coating her tone.
"Already?" Claudia exclaimed in surprise. She moved her laptop to the floor and reached for the items in question. After giving them a cursory look, she picked up her belongings and scrambled to her feet. "Nicely done my young Padawan. Let us retire to the bat-cave to check these out huh?"
HG watched her daughter shadow the red head up the stairs and smiled to herself. Moments like this made the years of heartbreak and borderline insanity worth it. Christina was surrounded by strong, intelligent women and while the world was far from perfect, she was thankful for the opportunities that were available to her. Introspective moments like this though sometimes made her think of the coffin that still resided in that French cemetery.
Closing her eyes briefly, she tried to force the image back into its box. With some measure of success, she eventually wandered into the living room, arriving in time to see Lila sinking into the couch in exhaustion.
The newest member of the Warehouse family had settled into her bizarre new life with relative ease. Her easygoing attitude and simple humour complimented Pete's zany character nicely and her open-mindedness was pivotal in helping her to accept their crazy jobs. They talked freely around her now, sometimes forgetting that she didn't already know the unbelievable back stories. Like for instance, that Myka's girlfriend and daughter were technically over one hundred years old, and that Helena was actually the inspiration behind the novels by HG Wells.
Helena looked the other woman over and felt a momentary pang of guilt that Lila was probably so tired due to having spent most of the day with a very active eight year old. She took a seat next to the blonde and pulled her feet under her in an attempt to find a comfortable position.
She watched the other woman throw her a long curious look and smiled to herself. "You're still getting used to me, aren't you? I imagine it's quite the feat to discover a time-traveller in your midst and manage not to pepper them with questions. I often wonder how I would have felt if Boudicca or Joan of Arc had fallen into the nineteenth century and we'd had the fortune to cross paths..." She noticed Lila's raised eyebrow and had the decency to blush a little. "Not that I'm comparing my achievements to theirs of course."
"HG Wells is well known for having supported women's rights," the blonde commented kindly. "That had to be a battle in itself."
"You're right, it was a struggle. My brother, Charles, was reluctant at first to put his face to the articles I wrote for some of the London papers, but I eventually managed to persuade him that women were just as deserving of respect as men. In the end, it was a show of force rather than words of logic that turned him around." She grinned at the memory of her brother's cries of surprise and pain. She hadn't really hurt him that much, but it had been enough for him to admit that women had the potential to perform as admirably as men, given the opportunity.
Chuckling lightly, Lila leant her head back against the couch cushions and closed her eyes briefly. "I bet that was a funny sight to see." Her eyes opened slightly to see the Victorian. "It's thanks to women like you that we have the levels of freedom we have. It's hard not to take it for granted sometimes, but then there are many areas of the world where women are still treated as second class citizens. There's still a lot of work to be done before we can truly say we've achieved equality."
HG stared across the room, seeing the news articles she'd researched immediately after her un-bronzing and the more recent bulletins that rarely escaped her attention. She shook her head. Dwelling on these issues too much often led to thoughts of artefact misuse, and that was a path she swore she wouldn't walk again. "We must all continue to voice our opinions and do as much as we can to change opinions. Even in the developed world, I've noticed a deplorable propensity to stereotype genders. There is a certain amount of logic attached to habits and preferences of males and females, particularly when you observe children; biologically we have to be different. Though it pains me to see people being ridiculed when their preferences divert from the norm."
"You're worried about Myka," Lila concluded when she recognised the pained expression that fell over her friend's face.
"Yes," the inventor responded curtly. Myka was never far from her thoughts, but their short conversation about the past had given her a brief reprieve from the churning panic she had felt all day.
"Have you spoken to her today?" Lila asked gently.
"I called before we left to make our way here. I'd hazard a guess that she was in discussion with her parents as it went directly to her voice-mail." She began to worry her hands again, her imagination drifting to the trouble that could have befallen her lover. She knew she had to be patient though. Myka's task would not be a quick or simple one, no matter how positive or negative the outcome. "I left a message. I will hold onto hope that she has an opportunity to return my call sooner rather than later."
Flying in the night before to get an early start had seemed like a good idea while Myka agonised over her plans for this visit, but in practice, all it did was take her away from her lover's calming influence and provide her with far too much time to think. Being left alone with her thoughts was a dangerous thing when she was nervous. She had chosen to walk to her parents' store instead of taking the rental car she'd picked up at the airport and found herself across the street, staring at the 'Bering and Sons' sign, sooner than she liked.
This really shouldn't be so hard, she thought to herself for the thousandth time. In essence, I'm just telling them that I'm in love and that I'm happy. Why is it such a big deal that it happens to be with a woman?
She sighed, knowing that this wasn't the first and most certainly wouldn't be the last time that she would have to steel herself to meet with potential homophobia. Such was the reality of being in a same-sex relationship. It certainly helped that the people closest to her were completely comfortable and supportive of her change of lifestyle. Tracy's reaction was a highlight that she really hadn't expected from her usually critical sibling. Apparently it had been 'about damn time' that she found someone to help her be less uptight and stuffy.
Tracy hadn't been home to see their parents on Thanksgiving since marrying Kevin three years ago. They always spent the day at his parents and returned to Colorado Springs on the Saturday for a smaller celebratory meal. That left Myka alone every year with her parents, Aunt Sophie and Uncle Adam, and her maternal grandmother. At Christmas, for the past two years, she had successfully excused herself with work, though she had a strong suspicion that her mother assumed that she had a secret lover to spend the holiday with. She would bet her life savings that in Jeanie's mind, that secret lover was Pete.
Trying not to shudder with revulsion at those images, Myka gathered what little courage she had left and crossed the street to her parents' shop.
It was still fairly early, especially for a Saturday, but there were a few eager shoppers strolling passed the 'open' signs, some stopping occasionally to gaze upon window displays decked with holly and tinsel. Many of them were faces she knew from her youth and she smiled as best she could in her present state of mind at the ones who recognised her.
Her father had his usual seasonal decorations out. In pride of place, overlooking the street, were the works of; Charles Dickens, C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, Phillip Van Doren Stern, Dodie Smith, Hans Christian Anderson, Valentine Davies, Louisa May Alcott and E.T.A. Hoffman.
Myka had read them all as a child and each held a particular memory of a Christmas morning spent reading by the streetlight while her sister trotted around looking for presents and her mother, already in the kitchen, prepared provisions for the day. By mid-morning she would be halfway through her book and Tracy would be whinging at her because she was hyped up on sugar and there were still presents to be opened. One year, she had let her younger sibling open her presents so she could read a little longer. She hadn't seen the harm as it made them both happy, but the lecture her father had given her about respecting the effort that people put into getting her gifts and being appropriately appreciative had not been an experience she ever wanted to repeat.
The tinkling of a bell above her head announced her entrance to the shop and alerted the grey-haired man behind the counter. His politely curious expression shifted to a familial smile as he recognised his eldest daughter. A gruff cough covered the involuntary show of emotion and soon he adopted a more recognisable frown.
"Myka." He remained behind the counter, his attention split awkwardly between his inventory and visitor. "Your mother and I weren't expecting to see you until next week. What brings you here so early? Need to buy a book?" He chuckled to himself and turned to pick up a huge, battered volume of War and Peace. "Got some new first additions in. Not all in great condition mind you, but I got a good bargain on a mixed box."
"That's great, Dad. I'll have a look through before I head home." Myka's gaze wandered over the shelves like they were old friends as she shifted nervously in front of the counter. She recited her plan in her head again, trying to find some way to keep on track and not lose her head. "I erm... I wanted to share some news with you and Mom. Maybe when you close for lunch? I was going to pick up a few things from my room too, if that's ok?"
Warren levelled a searching gaze at her over his glasses, making her feel trapped like she had been on several occasions in her youth. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide her nervousness from him so didn't even try. "It's your room," he commented in a non-committal manner. "I had to stack some inventory in there last spring and haven't managed to shift much of it yet, so as long as you don't mind squeezing round everything, you're welcome to do what you like in there."
He was avoiding what he sensed was the more serious topic, but as that suited Myka's needs, she didn't add anything. "Thanks," she said as she moved towards the back of the shop and the 'employees only' sign. "I'll see you for lunch then."
The small winding staircase, leading up to the apartment, creaked with each step she took and in her mind she pictured the pains she had gone to once to find a noiseless path between the two floors. It was hard not to feel like a child every time she came home. Only, it occurred to her now that the word 'home' inspired a great deal more comfort than it ever had before. As much as the familiarity of the shop brought back a few pleasant memories, mostly of her early love of books, this was not her home and hadn't been for a long while.
Thinking of Helena, she remembered the last time she had been forced here by the enigmatic Victorian. A sad smile tugged at her lip in memory of that turbulent time. Despite the fact that the woman she loved, who had betrayed her and crushed her heart, was a hologram, it had never felt more right to Myka than to be standing next to HG Wells, surrounded by the words of other authors who had brought many moments of peace to her life.
In hindsight, she often wondered how she had not seen the intense struggle; the war that had raged violently inside that tortured soul. She pictured Christina; her smile, her laughter, the feel of her body curling so small and warm into her side; who could remain sane after losing something that was so precious it was impossible describe? The sheer horror of such a thought pulled Myka to a momentary halt at the top of the stairs.
These were the people she was trying to protect. These beings brought her such unbelievable joy that there was no question of choosing between her old life and her new one. She loved her parents, no matter the issues between them, and that would never change, but her future was with her girlfriend and their daughter; if her parents couldn't accept that, there was nothing more for her in this place.
After popping her head in on her mother and reassuring her that she was fine, but wanted to wait 'til lunch to talk, Myka found her way to her old room and shut herself in.
The floor was covered in crates of books, momentarily tempting her to peek inside and begin sorting through the various texts. Organising books, she knew, would calm her down for a short while, so she didn't put the idea completely out of mind. However, she had visited the shop early with a task in mind and needed to see to that first.
From the top of her wardrobe, Myka began by pulling down an old suitcase and dusting it off. The leather was soft to the touch, having been worn by years of heavy use, but the hinges were sound and the catches still worked. It would do for her purpose.
She threw it open on the bed and then proceeded to open cupboards and drawers, pulling out old journals, photo albums and sentimental objects that to anyone else would probably look like junk. Each item found a place in the suitcase, the more delicate ones being wrapped in packing paper before joined their compatriots.
What could have taken half an hour without any breaks, dragged on until gone eleven as each new find prompted the necessity to sit on the edge of the bed and reminisce. She flicked through specific pages of her journals and contemplated letting her girlfriend read some of the entries. Helena was far too curious a person not to at least ask, and Myka felt a small thrill at the idea of one of her childhood heroes reading her innermost thoughts.
Finding herself running out of time, and beginning to feel her nerves return, the agent hurried things along until she came to the last item.
From beneath a floorboard, behind her bed, she pulled out an ornate box about the size of a small toaster on its side. The old style lock required a chunky brass key that Myka found still taped to the back of her wardrobe. Inside, she knew there lay treasures of her own discovery; items she had collected mostly for their historical value, but occasionally because she had been inextricably drawn to them and instinct had demanded she take possession.
It occurred to her now that any one of those treasures could be an artefact, so instead of giving into her desire to handle her prized possessions again, she placed the box carefully in a static bag and packed it.
Taking one last look around her room and wondering if it would be the last time she ever did, Myka felt confident that, no matter how this conversation went, she would be returning to a place she could really call home, to people who loved her without judgement or reserve.
Her mother was already busy preparing their lunch when the young agent entered the kitchen. Myka had requested something light, knowing that her stomach wouldn't handle much. She set her suitcase down near the door in preparation for a swift escape and began laying the table, letting the familiar monotony of the task calm her marginally.
"Did you find everything you wanted from your room, dear?" Jeanie asked once she noticed Myka in the room.
"Yes, thank you, Mom." She fiddled with the napkins as she searched for something to postpone the awkward silence that she felt building. "So, Dad has a lot of stock he can't shift? What sort of books are they?"
"You were up there almost three hours and you didn't read even one book from those crates?" A rough voice came from the doorway and Jeanie turned back to her task, bustling around faster than before.
Myka blushed. "I thought about it but I got lost reading through my journals." She took her place in the middle of the table, her mother and father either side of her as their meals were passed out and her mother began by saying grace. Myka bowed her head out of respect for her parents' beliefs, but otherwise remained silent.
Their lunch consisted of the clatter of metal on china and the sound of chewing for several minutes. Eventually, Jeanie's curiosity got the better of her.
"So Myka. Where's Pete today?" The grey-haired woman directed her question at her plate. So many of their conversations were undertaken without eye contact and Myka was fed up of it. "He's such a sweet boy. You really should snap him up before some other woman does. A man like that won't stay single forever."
"I've never been interested in Pete, Mom. Our relationship is entirely platonic." Myka knew there wasn't much point trying to explain this to her mother, but the words came out of habit.
Jeanie shot her an annoying 'mother knows best' look, alone with a patronising smile. "Well, you just be sure to bring him along at Thanksgiving and we'll see what we can do about that."
"Always thought he was a bit of a drip personally. How he ever got into the Secret Service baffles me," Warren grunted from his side of the table.
"Dad, he's a great agent. What he lacks in book-smarts, he more than makes up for with natural instinct," the brunette defended her friend before turning back to her mother. "And he's seeing a woman called Lila who suits him so much better than any other woman I've seen him messing around with."
"That's a shame, Dear. You did look good together. So you'll be coming to Thanksgiving dinner alone again then?" The disappointment on the older woman's face was clear. With her younger daughter happily married and with a baby on the way, she really needed to find a suitable man for her eldest. "Perhaps your Aunt Sophie could recommend a young man for you."
Myka placed her cutlery carefully on her plate and wiped her mouth deliberately on her napkin. "Actually Mom, I'm not coming to Thanksgiving this year. I have plans for the holidays at home. If you'll have me and a plus two, I'll visit the same day Tracy does." She braced herself for the interrogation that was sure to follow.
At first, there was silence, and then, hands clapping together with delight, Jeanie squealed to herself. "You've finally found someone and you want to spend the holidays with him?" It sounded like a question but Myka knew that her mother was sure of her assumption. "Well, Dear... As long as you promise to bring him along to meet everyone before next year... It's wonderful that you finally found your one. What's he like? Tell me everything!"
Myka sat poised to burst her mother's happy bubble when Warren cleared his throat, interrupting with his own question.
"Who's the other plus one in your plus two?"
Feeling a touch of relief at the delay, Myka managed to crack a smile. "Christina, our daughter." Seeing that she'd just created more questions, she continued. "Christina is eight. She's... well, she would be my step-daughter." Her smile grew involuntarily. "She loves stories, she's a brilliant reader, and she's really into acting too. She's so inquisitive; we go out exploring all the time and she pretends to be all sorts of different characters while we're out making discoveries."
Jeanie's expression softened from her excited line of inquiry. "She sounds delightful, and a lot like you were at that age, though you weren't quite so public with your playing at make-believe. What's her father like?"
"I have no idea," Myka shrugged nonchalantly. She felt the question hit her like a shot of adrenaline and suddenly felt fearless in the face of these people. Talking about Christina brought home all the reasons for her recent contentment and created an invisible barrier between her and her demons. "I've never met him. Her mother though is amazing. She's warm, passionate, intelligent, protective, beautiful and so much more. I never realised that I could feel this much for one person; that this is what it feels like to be so much in love."
The silence that followed Myka's impassioned confession was deafening. She sighed her disappointment, though it was half-hearted as their collective reaction didn't come as much of a surprise. When their shock wore off however, the effect was immediate.
"Do you mean to tell us that you're living in sin with another woman?" Jeanie asked in her most disapproving tone as her husband continued his stoic stance at the far end of the table.
"No," Myka replied defiantly. "In order to be living in sin, I would have to be doing something sinful, which I don't believe I am. How can love be a sin?" She shot back.
Her mother scowled. "Don't take that tone with me young lady. If you are sharing... relations... with this woman, then you are living in sin. It's nothing but self indulgence, letting yourself be swayed by lust."
Myka felt her composure slipping in the wake of her mother's outrage. Is she even listening to herself? "There was plenty of 'lust' in my relationship with Sam and I loved him. The two aren't mutually exclusive."
"Of course you loved him," Jeanie responded heatedly, missing the point entirely. "He was a lovely man."
"He was married! How is my current relationship worse than that?" Myka blurted.
"He was separated, and in this day and age..."
"In this day and age," Myka interrupted. "Enlightened and open-minded people realise that love between couples of the same gender is no different than that between heterosexual couples. I love Helena more deeply than I've ever loved anyone and wanting to express that love physically does not make our love any less valid!"
Jeanie stood up half way through her daughter's speech and began collecting plates from the table. After putting them none too gently into the sink, she turned to her husband. "Warren, tell your daughter how wrong this is."
His face was drawn, his expression showing deep thought. "Myka... it's not natural."
"And to think of that poor little girl living with the two of you," Jeanie continued in her over the top tone of concern. "Aren't you ashamed of the example you're setting for her?"
Myka threw her chair back with force and rose to her full height. It was enough that her parents apparently thought she was a sexual deviant, but to question Christina's well being simply because both of her parents were women? That hit a nerve. "I have a sister," she stated firmly, bringing her mother to a confused pause. "That means, at some point during my childhood, I assume while I was in the house, the two of you were having sex." She eyed them both, daring their denial. "To suggest that what Helena and I do in the privacy of our bedroom in some way adversely affects our child is ridiculous. You may as well condemn the entire human race with that reasoning." She calmly moved round her chair and tucked it under the table. "I've said what I came here to say. If you can't accept that, then it's your loss and this is where we part." She strode to the door and picked up her suitcase. "If you ever come to your senses, you know how to contact me."
The agent made her way swiftly down the stairs but stood in the shop for several minutes to gather herself. Having anticipated feeling rejected and upset, she was thrown by the level of anger she felt.
She was livid and worried what she would do in this state. Her limbs shook and she closed her eyes to avoid the childish urge to throw something through the front window. The ringing in her ears from the pressure was so loud that she didn't hear the heavy footsteps descending the creaky stairs behind her.
Warren stood awkwardly behind his daughter for several long seconds before finding the courage to speak. "Myka?"
Startled to find herself not alone, the irate agent turned sharply to stare at her father. "You have something to add to how unnatural I am?"
"I'm not going to apologise for what I believe, whether I'm right or not. I simply don't understand what happened to you." He was being his usual stubborn self and his defensive posture belayed that. "I wonder if this is my fault for making you think I wanted you to be a boy," he thought aloud.
Myka sighed, feeling all of the fight drain out of her. He really wasn't getting it, but at least he wasn't just trying to shout her down. "I'm not going to put a label on who I am. I don't love Helena because she's a she. I'm in love with a wonderful person and I'm really happy for the first time in a long time. Why does it make any difference that the person who does that for me is a woman?"
Having had enough and feeling more in control, Myka gave her father a last fleeting look of frustration before stepping through the shop door and striding away without a backward glance.
She wasn't going to spend another night away from her family. She would pack the few things she'd left at the hotel and head straight to the airport. With any luck, she would be home before Helena was asleep.
The drive home from Kadoka Municipal Airport took far longer than Myka was happy with. There had already been a delay back in Colorado when airport security had had to remove an extremely inebriated woman from the plane after she slapped a stewardess, and it was now way past when the agent's family would have settled down for the evening.
Creeping softly into the house and security the door behind her, Myka locked her old suitcase in the cupboard under the stairs and took the rest of her belongings up to the bedroom she shared with her girlfriend. Carefully pushing the door open, she tiptoed inside and then stood just beyond the end of the bed, looking over the beautiful woman who lay there.
As a warm smile tugged at her mouth, she felt all of the stress and anger of the last two days drain away. Covers askew and limbs sprawled at odd angles, suggesting a restless sleep, Helena snored softly into the crook of her elbow. The expression on her face told the late traveller that the past forty-eight hours had been tough on the older woman too and she began to regret again the decision to break the news to her parents alone.
After completing her ablutions and changing into a loose t-shirt, Myka climbed into bed and gently coaxed Helena away from the edge, where the inventor was in danger of falling out. Bleary eyes opened to the darkness of the room and immediately sought her out. "It's ok, honey, it's just me."
"Myka?" Half asleep still, HG struggled to prop herself up. Once she realised that she wasn't dreaming, she fell upon her lover and held on tightly. "Oh, thank God," she whispered passed vocal chords that were half-frozen with emotion.
"Helena, you're shaking," Myka's voice rose.
"I'm sorry, darling. I didn't know it was going to progress to this level," Helena mumbled into the taller woman's chest.
"Didn't know what was going to progress?" Pulling back as far as her lover's arms would allow, Myka frowned. "Your anxiety?" She felt HG's body sag and her head incline affirmatively. "How long has it been this bad? Why didn't you call me?"
Helena's octopus-like grip loosened and the trembling in her body diminished. "It was manageable last time, and I knew that you would be home by tomorrow so there really wasn't much sense in disturbing you. I planned on telling you once you were back."
The newly returned agent sighed. They had discussed this issue not too long ago but she hadn't known the extent or physical effects of their separation was this distressing for her girlfriend. "I'm sorry. I'd have taken you both with me if I'd known."
"Neither of us could have anticipated this, love. Christina and I spent the afternoon at Leena's. Artie was not happy with my condition. Apparently, Pete has been experiencing similar difficulties so they're looking into possible artefact involvement."
"I should have been here with you," Myka thought aloud, now really regretting her two day trip in light of this new information. "You and Pete barely spend any time together. What could possibly have affected both of you?"
Helena snuggled into Myka's side with a sleepy, contented sigh. "Thus far I am at a loss to explain it, though right at this moment, I am more interested in catching up on lost sleep and getting a fresh start tomorrow... Unless you want to talk about your trip?" She added, suddenly recalling the reason for her girlfriend's absence.
Agent Bering kissed the top of the raven-haired head that rested against her shoulder. "I need to process first; we can talk about that another day." She felt her lover nod and her breathing even out, the inventor falling asleep within seconds. Despite her own dog-tiredness, sleep eluded her for a long while as her analytical brain puzzled over Helena and Pete's mysterious anxiety attacks.
Tracking recent activities, group meals and artefact retrievals, there were only a handful of occasions when her girlfriend and her best friend had been in contact with one another. Helena was happy to have Pete around as Christina adored her 'uncle', but she only had a certain amount of patience reserved for him and often busied herself elsewhere when he was around.
The limited options should have made her task easier, but nothing jumped to mind.
Eventually, her thoughts began to drift and the memories jumbled together into one big collection of Pete's finest food scoffing moments and HG's excuses to be elsewhere. In the back of her mind, hidden for now behind the chaos, was the image of an isle in the Warehouse and a familiar hum of energy.