So...many...parenting...websites...(Also, let's assume that H.G.'s teachers know about her kid, but the rest of the school only has rumours.)

"Leena is going to be busy tomorrow," Helena begins and Myka tilts her head inquisitively, if distractedly. She's multitasking, Skyping with Helena and polishing an essay (and researching it. And actually writing it.) but she's still tired from her fencing tournament earlier today. (The trophy proclaiming her the victor sits atop her bookshelf, next to others of its kind. Myka Bering is nothing if not efficient in her violence.) "And – are you asleep?"

Myka jerks straight up in her chair. She can't be, she's got work to hand in tomorrow. "Nope!"

"I shan't keep you much longer," Helena promises with an indulgent smile, and continues. "Leena won't be here tomorrow, and I need someone to look after Christina."

"Oh." Myka pauses, giving up on her essay for now. "Do you want me to do it?"

Helena shrugs, a little shy. "I was hoping."

"Sure." Myka smiles, stifling a yawn. "Christina's a sweet kid."

"You may wish to revise your opinion," Helena mumbles. At Myka's raised eyebrow she explains, "I will probably have to remain past her bedtime – which is 8 o'clock exactly, by the way – and my little one can't quite stomach the idea of sleep."

"How bad could it be?" Immediately, some fatalistic sixth sense prickles down Myka's spine and she just knows she'll regret saying that. She changes the subject quickly. "Where are you going, anyway?"

"Community service," Helena answers simply, and Myka is surprised by the surge of guilt in her stomach. "Professor Brown decided one hundred hours was a sufficient punishment."

"But you have a child," Myka protests. She does not want to be the one responsible for taking Helena away from her daughter.

"Yes, I imagine that is why he is being so lenient," Helena says, smiling in a way that's meant to be reassuring but Myka worries at her lower lip anyway. Helena deserves the hours for cheating on a project, and Myka knows that, but...she's pretty sure she read somewhere that the ages of zero to five are vital in the formation of children and parental presence is a major portion of that. But it's only fair for Helena to be disciplined. But Christina needs her mother.

It's right, but it's not right at all, and Myka doesn't know how to process this. Just once, she thinks wearily, massaging her temples. Just once, she wishes things could be simple with Helena.

She's saved from her thoughts when the door creaks. For a second Myka thinks it's her own door and wonders why her roommate is still awake, but then she sees a triangle of light spill into Helena's darkened room and feels her jaw drop as a curly-haired child pokes her head in.

"Hi, mummy!" Christina exclaims, looking immensely pleased about her daring escape from the confines of her bed.

Helena groans, swivelling around to face the intruder. "Christina," she says reprovingly, but the little girl's attention has already wandered.

"Hi, Myka!" Christina waves a stuffed bunny Myka hasn't seen before – she wonders if this toy is called Miss Doll – and smiles toothily.

"To bed, young lady," Helena says sternly, before Myka can do much more than smile and wave back. To her credit, Christina only pouts for a second before turning back around and skipping out the door. Apparently, she only wanted the attention. Myka shakes her head and tries to wipe all trace of admiration off her face (She can't help herself, okay, half the time Christina acts like a really cute kitten with an unfortunate fondness for sitting on its owner's head) before Helena sees.

Helena watches Christina go in the webcam, lips pursed in a way that Myka knows will spell trouble for Christina tomorrow. How does one punish an unruly two year old? Myka wonders. Time-outs? taking away their favourite doll? initiating A Very Serious Discussion, Young Lady? She resolves to look it up – frankly, it's surprising she hasn't done so already. Parenting websites should be a good place to start, she thinks, stretching her arms above her head, wincing as her back cracks a little.

Not that she is a parent. Or has ever particularly wanted to be. It's just that...Helena is alone, raising a toddler, alone, and Myka knows that has to be hard – thirty year olds with spouses and jobs dedicate whole novels to it – and Myka can't stop imagining the difficulties Helena must face, despite her family's money and Leena's help.

"One last thing," Helena says, breaking Myka out of her reverie. "My parents suggested that we ought to take our spring vacation a week earlier than we usually do."

"Mm," Myka doesn't quite succeed in covering up a yawn this time. "Leena mentioned it yesterday."

"Actually, I believe she said our vacation would be a week longer than usual." Myka's forehead creases as she realizes the truth in Helena's words, then wonders why the distinction is so important. "Which is still true, but we'll be leaving on the twenty-seventh of February as opposed to the second of March." Myka sits straight up in her chair, fatigue momentarily forgotten.

"You'll be leaving in two days?"

Helena nods, watching Myka carefully. "I've agreed to it. My brother, Charles, is only available for that first week and not seeing him is tantamount to not going, as far as Christina is concerned. Also, this way the vacation won't cut as deeply into my coursework."

"Oh," Myka says, chewing on her lower lip.

"I know two weeks a large stretch of time, but...," Helena trails off, and the slight upturn of her lips says more than words could.

Helena wants to go early, Myka realizes. She wants to see her brother again. And then she feels like a complete idiot because of course she does. And Helena occasionally gets homesick for London, Myka knows that. "Oh," Myka repeats. "Well, have fun for me. We'll Skype, right?" Helena tilts her head curiously and Myka rushes to clarify, fingers twisting nervously in her lap. "I don't mean like every single night because obviously you'll be busy, but you know. On occasion. When you have time."

"Myka," Helena says softly and Myka can't quite bring herself to meet Helena's eyes. "I'm going to miss you."

Myka, in the privacy of her own room and with Helena as her only witness, melts. "H.G." she begins softly, and stops, noticing the flush upon the other girl's cheeks. ""Helena," she finishes softly and watches in fascination as Helena reddens in earnest, running her fingers through her hair. Myka bites her lip to hide a smile and changes the subject. "Hey, you know, orange juice calms her down -" she begins, eager to share a tip she learned firsthand at the park yesterday, then abruptly kills the sentence. She is actually giving advice about Christina to Christina's mother. "...and obviously you know that," she finishes awkwardly. She sinks down into her chair, cheeks burning, and wishes for a very large hole to open up in the ground and swallow her whole.

Helena presses her lips together, and her eyes shine with amusement and something else when she whispers, "I'll see you tomorrow evening, then." Myka manages a wavering smile, leaning into the screen even as Helena cuts the connection.

"And remember, my cell phone will always be on," Helena finishes. She stands in the foyer of her house with the sun streaming in through the big windows on either side of the door. She cuddles Christina closer to her, worry shining out of her eyes. Myka, standing a few paces in front of her, sighs.

"Mummy," Christina whines, twisting a little. Helena kisses the soft hairs at her temple and Christina squirms more, leaning in to plant a sloppy, little girl kiss on Helena's cheek, at which Helena laughs merrily. There's a sudden clench in Myka's chest and abruptly she feels she's too far away – or maybe they're too far away, Helena and Christina, and for a second she can't breathe, thinking she might never be able to cross that distance and hold them in her arms.

"Myka?" Helena asks, watching her with concern.

Myka takes a deep, if shaky, breath to clear her head. "Don't worry about us," she orders, squeezing Helena's hand where it rests on Christina's side, just to feel their combined warmth under her hand. It helps with the tight feeling in her chest, and she winks at Christina to distract herself further. Christina eagerly attempts to copy her, to humorous results. Myka wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, at which Christina giggles, then shyly ducks her head into her mother's neck. Helena rolls her eyes very slightly at their antics but her eyes are bright, and it gives Myka the confidence to promise, "It'll be fine."

Fine is the last thing it is.

"Holy c – cows," she says.

"Myka, look!" Christina exclaims, and if she'd just painted the Mona Lisa, she couldn't look more smug.

Myka can't not. "I'm – I'm looking," she croaks.

The living room is a mess.

There is play-doh everywhere. And she doesn't just mean on the floor and some stuck onto the arms of chairs and maybe a glob or two on the walls, she means there is play-doh everywhere.

Wherever play-doh can conceivably be, it is. In fact, there is a thin string of play-doh hanging from the ceiling fan. Myka isn't sure how it even got up there, because there is no earthly way a child who isn't even three feet tall could have reached that far.

She had only been gone for two minutes. She had gone to the kitchen. To get a glass of orange juice for an unusually hyper Christina. Two minutes.

Myka drags her gaze back down to Christina, whose clothes are just barely visible underneath all the play-doh (mostly yellow and blue, which blends together to create an altogether unpleasant shade of puke green) and remembers the prickly feeling of dread that crept down her spine during her Skype chat with Helena. Foreshadowing, she supposes.

"What happened to the sweet shy kid you used to be?" Myka mumbles, caught between amusement and wariness. She swoops Christina up into her arms for a bath.

There's a squelch as Christina's play-doh clad clothes come into contact with Myka's body and Myka freezes in horror. To the best of her knowledge, play-doh is generally a dry toy.

Two baths, she decides, studiously refusing to look down. Maybe three.

Myka wakes slowly. It takes her a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, and bring into focus yellow ducks on light blue fleece.

It had been a struggle and a half to get Christina into these pajamas, and then to get her onto her big girl bed. But! three stories, two stern eyebrow raises, and one slightly desperate "What would Mummy say?" later, Myka managed to get Christina to settle down for sleep. She smiles drowsily at the stuffed bunny clutched protectively in Christina's hand. The other is placed trustingly in hers. (She'd given her hand for Christina to hold sometime between checking under the bed for monsters and reading Curious George Visits the Zoo.) Christina doesn't have an alarm clock in her room, but Myka knows she should get up, maybe go wait in the living room for Helena to come back, but the room is warm, and Christina breaths are soft and slow and lulling her back to sleep.

She doesn't realize Helena has already returned until she hears the rocking chair creak.

Myka blinks her eyes wider, and raises her heavy head until she can see Helena, who leans forward in the rocking chair and she looks –

She is pale in this light, ethereal, and Myka makes out first the sharp edges, her nose, the jut of her knuckles partially hidden beneath a slightly upturned chin, fingers of her other hand curling somehow sensuously around the arm of the chair. There are parts of her still in shadow, but not her eyes, and Myka is captivated. Pools of umber, filled with indescribable warmth and tenderness, catch her gaze and sear through layers of flesh and bone straight through to the pounding red muscle in Myka's chest, and Myka is halfway off the bed (carefully, very carefully, so as not to wake the child she was curled around) before she knows it. She takes one last look at the peacefully sleeping child, and tiptoes after Helena out into the hall.

"Hello." Helena's voice is soft and slightly raspy, and with a painful clench inside her, Myka is reminded she won't be hearing this voice for two weeks.

Myka smiles, but it's stilted. Her restless gaze falls upon Christina's door, still partially open, and Myka reaches to close it, only to have Helena's hand still hers on the doorknob.

"Christina is afraid of the dark," Helena explains. She looks tired, but Myka thinks she looks beautiful, and real. "The nightlight helps, but she also needs the door to not be closed all the way."

Myka lets her hand drop from the doorknob and studies her Vans and she breathes through the same crippling agitation that attacked her earlier in the evening. When is she going to get this right?

In some part of her mind, Myka recognizes it's ridiculous to expect to know everything about Helena and Christina after barely a month. That doesn't stop her from wishing she does, from wishing she had been there for every little thing in Helena Wells's life.

But that's no good either, because if Helena and Myka had known each other from the start, would Christina even have been born?

Myka adores Christina – she's the most headstrong child she's ever met, but she's also the sweetest. Myka would never want to wish Christina out of existence.

"Myka?"

"Yeah," Myka says, looking up quickly.

"Say something." Helena's smile is weak, slightly shaky.

"Nothing to say." Myka's attempt is not much better than Helena's.

Frustration is evident in the brusque way Helena combs back her hair. "You're being distant."

It's just the faintest hint of accusation, but defensiveness rises swiftly within her. "I'm just thinking."

"Thinking I ought to cancel the trip?" Helena shoots back.

Myka blinks, caught off guard. "What?"

Helena deflates, then she laughs without humour and she looks away. "I'm not sure," she admits quietly.

Myka is silent for a while. "You – don't you want to go to London?"

Say no, Myka thinks. Say you want to stay here.

But that's ridiculous, and she knows it. And Myka tries to tamp down on her guilt because she wants Helena here, not gone – not for two days, not for two weeks.

"I don't –" Helena bites down on her bottom lip in a way Myka's sure Helena learned from her. She looks small all of a sudden, unsure.

So Myka takes a breath and Myka reaches for Helena's hand. Helena grasps it, tentatively at first, then tighter, with more certainty.

"I don't want tomorrow to come," Helena says, staring down at their joined hands.

Myka exhales, slowly. She leans back – onto Christina's door.

Which, being open to begin with, naturally swings open, and there's a moment of silent, panicked flailing as Myka and Helena try to keep Myka upright and try not to wake Christina up.

It's over before Myka can really think about it, and she scrambles across the hall, pointedly not leaning on any walls or doors. She watches Helena close the door carefully, checking Christina's bed for signs of movement.

When Helena turns back, her mouth is a perfectly straight line, but her eyes glitter tellingly and Myka groans, covering her eyes with a hand.

"I can't believe you're laughing at me," she grumbles, and goes to fold her arms but finds Helena stepping into her instead. She's pretty sure Helena is surprised by how tightly Myka holds on. But Helena doesn't say anything, only turns her head to the side as far as she can and her mouth catches against the corner of Myka's ear before she rests her chin on Myka's shoulder again.

And Myka presses her lips into Helena's shoulder and keeps in all the words she doesn't know how to let out.

Myka is on time – early, even – which is why it is so frustrating to be lost right now.

She looks hopelessly up at the map, feeling a headache coming on from the sheer number of rooms and floors.

God, she hates airports.

Finally, she spies a box labelled Departures on the large map, consults her hand-held map, and sets off, speed walking through the spacious hallways. She finds it eventually, with much help from a kindly airport employee, and she arrives, panting unattractively and overheated even in the cool of the air conditioning.

Helena, at least, is easy enough to spot, with the (slightly flimsy looking) yellow umbrella stroller next to her. Her back is to Myka, and she's hunched over a kiosk. Printing her ticket, Myka assumes.

"Helena!" Myka says when she's close enough, and feels the first true smile of the day split her face when Helena turns to look at her. "Hey."

"Myka," Helena says into Myka's jacket, holding on impossibly tight just for a second before stepping away. "Myka, hello."

"Hi," Myka repeats, and the grin on her face is completely unmanageable right now, but she can't bring herself to care.

"D'you mind?" Helena scowls at the machine and Myka bites down on a laugh. "I can't quite -"

"Go ahead," Myka says. She stoops to check on Christina. "Hey," she says quietly.

"Hi." Christina's voice is nothing less than a grumble and Myka coos sympathetically.

"Aw, you're tired, huh? It's okay, you're going on such a cool trip! Going to go see you grandma, and your grandpa, and your uncle." Myka rambles and Christina only shrugs, clearly grouchy about the early hour. Myka laughs softly, brushes her hand over Christina's soft hair and feels everything spill out of her in a great big rush. "Take care of your mom for me, okay? And be good on the plane, I know it's gonna be a long, boring flight. And don't play with play-doh when you get to your grandparents' place. I know it's fun but I found some behind my ear this morning, okay, Christina, it gets really messy and – Christina?"

Soft little snores issue from Christina's half open mouth and Myka feels her heart turn to goo.

"Myka."

Myka starts. She looks up to find Helena leaning against the machine, two tickets in her hand, and gazing down at them. She holds a hand out to Myka.

"You look about as tired as Christina," Myka says, allowing Helena to pull her up.

"I am," Helena laughs softly. "Thank you for putting her to sleep, by the way. She's been very cranky."

"According to Parenting Now, children don't like having their routines changed too much," Myka recites on autopilot.

Helena looks surprised, then pleased. "I believe I've read that article as well," she says.

"What time is your flight?" Myka asks, though she knows already, it's been running through her mind since Helena told her last night.

"We ought to check our luggage in ten minutes," Helena says quietly.

"I – you -" Myka stops. She looks up at the ceiling and blinks hard, and when she looks back down it's to see Helena looking worriedly at her.

"What's the matter?" Helena asks softly.

I don't want you to leave, Myka thinks, staring down at Helena's fingers as they toy idly with the cuff of Myka's jacket. "I'm just -" She pauses once again, and she hates how it's so hard to say something as simple as I'll miss you, but it is and it's doubly hard with Helena looking up at her with such concern and such affection. She wishes she were Pete, just for an instant. He is warm and loving and capable of saying such small things. And Helena deserves someone who is capable of saying such small things.

"Be safe," is what she settles on, after a brief but violent struggle between the Myka that adores Helena beyond all reason and the Myka that still hasn't moved on from the pain of having to say goodbye to a loved one.

Helena hasn't even left yet but already Myka feels the hole in her life.

"I will," Helena says. "Of course I will." She pulls Myka to her, and Myka goes willingly, slipping her hands into Helena's unbuttoned jacket and feeling the warmth of her back. Her head fits into the crook of Helena's neck and she holds on tight, so tight, and steps back.

"You should go check your luggage," she says, gesturing to the two bags on the cart in front of Helena. "I was looking up travelling with children on planes and everyone said having a stroller lengthens the process of checking in and out of baggage claims."

Helena blinks slowly up at her, lips slightly parted like she's just realizing something. "Of course," she murmurs.

Myka presses a kiss to the corner of Helena's mouth, mindful of the curious gazes of passersby.

(There aren't very many, probably because Helena's flight takes off at what Claudia calls "the asscrack of dawn", but Myka feels the looks anyway.)

She lingers regardless, feeling the warmth of Helena's skin underneath her mouth, the way she smiles and breathes a laugh, ruffling Myka's curls. "Please be safe," Myka says again, mumbling it against Helena's cheek.

Helena's hands come up to cradle Myka's face, and Myka feels her eyes flutter shut. She concentrates on the warmth, the tenderness of the hold, and just for a second, lets herself pretend Helena isn't saying goodbye.

"Thought you could use a friendly face," Pete says, carelessly dropping his backpack next to his wet winter boots. Normally Myka would make him place his boots neatly on the shoe rack– normally she'd shoot him an acerbic comment on how the keys to her apartment were supposed to be for emergencies only– but today she barely looks up from the window.

She hears footfalls as he creeps forward cautiously.

"Everything okay?"

"No," she replies flatly.

"Oh," he says. "Anything I can do to cheer you up? Because, I mean, I found this great milkshake place and I know you don't eat sugar, but they sell fro-yo, too, so you can do the whole "I'll eat this but I won't like it" thing that you do..." he trails off when Myka slips past him and sinks into the couch.

"Hey," he says, softer. "I know you miss H.G.'s fine self – by the way, don't think I'm not still mad that it took me walking in on you two for you to tell me about you two like two days ago." Pete pauses to think about it and says, "That sentence totally made sense, so don't even try." Myka rolls her eyes and Pete recovers his train of thought admirably, coming to sit next to her on the couch. "But H.G.'s gonna be back in two weeks, and then you can...you know," he ends eloquently.

"Helena has a baby," Myka says, completely out of the blue, and Pete nearly chokes on his own tongue.

"Wow," he croaks. "Mykes, is – is there something you haven't been telling me? You know, I mean, I'd still love you if you were a dude, and -"

"What?" Myka goggles at Pete. "What?"

Pete blinks, looking decidedly less nonplussed than he should. "Unless I'm missing something," he begins slowly. "You can't get pregnant without one person having the – y'know." Myka's stony countenance hides abject horror, but Pete takes it as his cue to continue. "The – y'know. Proper equipment."

Myka couldn't have leaped off the couch faster if it had been on fire. "Pete! I do not want to discuss -" she nearly chokes on the word, "penises with you!"

Pete holds up his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying -"

"Stop just saying!" There is a valiant attempt to stop herself from screaming and Myka continues, calmer. "Helena has a daughter. Already. Her name is Christina Wells and she's turning three next month and I am not her father."

Pete tilts his head thoughtfully. "Okay," he says, and Myka dares to hope they might finally be getting somewhere. "But how come I didn't know about this?"

Myka's face falls. "Ah, Pete, I wanted to tell you but -"

"But it wasn't your thing to tell?" Pete supplies and Myka smiles sadly.

"Yeah."

"A kid." Pete blows out a breath and leans against the couch, nodding absently.

"Yeah."

"Wouldn'ta expected it from someone like H.G.."

Myka bristles a little. "She was young," she defends, and Pete nods.

"Still a surprise," he points out, as gently as he can.

Myka and Pete sit (or, in Myka's case, stand and tap feet restlessly) quietly for a few minutes until Myka breaks the silence with a defeated sigh. "I don't think I can do this," she admits, arms folded like she's trying to hold herself together.

"Can't do what?" Pete blinks owlishly. "You can do anything, Mykes."

With great effort, Myka stills the trembling of her chin. "I'm only twenty-one," she explains. She paces, and Pete watches cautiously. "I mean, it's just – crazy." Myka stares wide-eyed at him, willing him to understand.

Empathy, if not comprehension, dawns on Pete's face. "It'll be okay," Pete says.

"No, it won't! It's insane! It's a family! And I'm not even ready to help take care of Deb's dog, how am I supposed to -" she breaks off, gesticulating wildly before finding more grievances to air. "It's like whoever is writing the story of my life think I'm twice my age! And I am not ready for – for any of this."

"It'll be okay," Pete says, and maybe it's the repetition, but Pete seems like the steadiest thing in her life right now and she sinks into him, lets him wrap a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Pete, I didn't even tell her I was going to miss her. I couldn't even do that, Pete!" The tears come now, hot and steady, and Pete pulls her tight to him, crushing her against his chest. "How'm I supposed to give them what they need, I couldn't even do that. Pete, I couldn't even do that."

"It'll be okay," Pete says, and holds her until she stops shaking.