Author's Note: This one took a bit longer to crank out than usual. Sorry, guys. I just couldn't get the ending conversation to feel right. I think I got it where I wanted it, but let me know what you think, as always. : )

"You ready, Mykes?" Pete asked, poking his head through the door. "Oh," he said, grinning as he noticed that the pair of them stood no more than an inch apart, Helena's forehead leaned against Myka's with her hands set firmly on the agent's hips. "I'll give you two a minute for some lovin'. Just, you know," he started, pointing a finger at them both with raised eyebrows, "keep it PG-13, guys. We don't have time for the R-rated stuff."

Helena rolled her eyes, but Myka smiled at him appreciatively and said, "Thanks, Pete. I'll be out in just a second."

Helena would have liked to spend more time with Myka before she had to leave. The intimacy that they now shared was new, and extraordinarily intoxicating in a way that Helena had never before experienced; she found that she was not at all keen on the notion of suffering several days without it.

"I believe this is going to be more difficult than I'd initially anticipated," she admitted softly.

Myka smiled at her, and in it, amongst pure adoration and affection, Helena could detect both anxiety and displeasure. "I'm going to miss you, too," she said quietly, reading into Helena's words the one thing that she abruptly found she could not say.

"Myka, I will be here when you get back," she promised.

Her lover laughed quietly. "Helena, if I didn't already know that you'd be here when I got back, then I wouldn't be leaving."

Helena smiled, and, satisfied that Myka was convinced, she sighed softly against her mouth. "I suppose I should walk you out, then?" Helena asked, though it was clear by her lack of movement that she was reluctant to do so.

Myka apparently had other plans, which really didn't involve much movement at all. She cradled Helena's face with one, soft hand, and embraced the back of her neck with her opposite one, before leaning in to press a furious kiss against her mouth.

Helena was, admittedly, a bit startled. Myka's motions had been so gentle before their mouths had touched, but the moment that their lips had coupled together, Helena had been blitzed by overwhelming emotion. Love, fear, and a fraught longing stretched from Myka's mouth and into hers, and, so stunned was she by those sentiments, Helena had to take a moment to remember herself.

Her fingers clenched around Myka's hips as she conceded to the kiss, allowing Myka to conquer her lips with bruising force, and bowing into her lover's slender, overpowering figure. Their kiss was not elegant; it was raw and desperate, and burdened with the need for each of them to affirm the other's feelings.

But when Helena felt that those emotions had been exchanged thoroughly, she retracted, brushing Myka's nose with her own, touching her mouth to Myka's, not quite kissing, merely dragging across the agent's lips in a motion designed purely to tempt. "I have warned you about this nasty habit you've acquired for teasing me, love," she murmured amorously.

"I'm sorry," Myka sighed genuinely. "I just – " But the agent shorted herself and shrugged helplessly.

Comfortingly, Helena offered a gentle squeeze to her hips. "I know, darling. You're not alone in your feelings of discontent. However, I fear if we spend much longer in this position, I will grow rather adamant in my task of convincing you to stay, and my tactics might not be as ah – PG-13 as Pete would like."

With a flattering flush, which Helena had long ago discovered very much suited her, Myka nodded. "I guess I should go."

"Mm," Helena hummed, and leaned in for another kiss. "Come, darling. We'll walk together, hm?"

Myka nodded again and trailed behind her, grappling for her hand and squeezing it tightly. Helena comprehended, in that motion more than any other, how truly frightened Myka was to be without her, and it concurrently broke and melted her heart. Without a second thought to follow that one, Helena returned the hug of her hand with one of her own, and accompanied it with a deep look over her shoulder that spoke of her endless affection for this woman. Myka smiled shakily in reply, and they continued to move toward the front door.

Pete stood outside patiently, leaning against the car with his Farnsworth in hand. When he noticed their arrival, he eyed them carefully and extended a small, but genuinely sympathetic smile. Overgrown child though he may be, Helena knew that Pete was rather sensitive to changes in mood – Myka's in particular.

"I grabbed your stuff, Mykes," he told her. "So we're all set."

Myka nodded, but her unease had grown with each step that they had taken closer to the car, so Helena swiftly gathered her into her arms, embracing her tightly, and briefly stroked her hair as it began to tickle her neck.

"I'll call you," Myka vowed again.

"I have no doubt that you will," Helena said, pulling back to rest a kiss against Myka's temple. "Be safe, darling."

"Don't worry," Pete said, resting his hand against Helena's shoulder as the two separated. "I'll keep an eye on our girl here, and you can keep an eye on my cookie stash for me while I'm gone!"

Helena raised a brow. "I'm certain I have better things to do with my time than to secure your cookie reserve."

Myka laughed lightly. "Seriously, Pete, just take it with you. You know you're going to be mad that there are no sweets on the plane, anyway."

"No!" Pete declined stubbornly. "Mykes, I told you, the cookie stash is for emergencies."

"Pete," Myka sighed with exasperated affection, "your idea of an emergency is when you can't have the icing off of Claudia's cinnamon roll."

"Yeah, and then I have my cookies and everything's okay again," he said pointedly. "It's a system, okay? And I don't harass you about your Twizzler addiction, so, you know… back off my cookie stash!"

"Whatever," Myka huffed.

"Whatever, indeed," Helena chuckled softly as Pete moved to the opposite end of the car and hopped in, cranking up the vehicle and allowing soft music to drown out the sound of their parting words.

"I'll see you soon, my darling," Helena smiled, and opened the door to the car for her.

"Okay," Myka nodded, sliding in and glancing up at her through a window that she quickly opened as Helena closed the door behind her.

Helena leaned down, and feathered a kiss over her lips. "I love you, Myka," she murmured tenderly.

Myka beamed almost instantly, before she replied, "I love you, too."

"Mm, that seems to have done the trick," Helena smiled gently in return. "I have missed that smile in these more recent hours. Go now, darling. We'll speak soon."

Myka opened her palm to offer a gesture of goodbye, and as Helena tightened her light sweater around herself and watched the automobile pull away, she uncomfortably noted a strong similarity between this moment and another, not long ago, that had her hugging a tearful Myka farewell as she departed from Wisconsin.

But this day had been nothing like that one. In place of apologies and agony, there had been promises and love, and it took no time at all for Helena to confess that she much preferred the latter.

Helena spent much of her day distracting herself from her lover's absence. She'd showered, spent some time working on Pete and Claudia's gifts (although, Pete's was proving to be a bit more complicated than she'd anticipated), and she'd taken her lunch in her room, despite that her Victorian notions of propriety had left her feeling slightly guilty about doing so.

So when she leaned back against the bed that evening, she couldn't have stopped the soft, though slightly dismayed smile that flitted over her lips when a scent that was not her own, and yet was still so delightfully familiar, wafted toward her.

Myka Bering had been in her bed.

Though Helena had quite literally spent most of her time in this life pondering over her feelings for that woman, and she had spent the past week, at least, working up the nerve and the words to speak them aloud, she still found herself surprised by the developments of the last couple of days.

It had felt like longer. She and Myka had danced around this devastating tension for years, so the seduction in itself had been a long time coming. But, after all that she had done, she still found herself bemused by Myka's declarations of love and faith. No one – in this time, or any other – had offered her that sort of dedication. Myka was, truly, a rarity.

And Helena missed her dearly.

Scoffing at herself for her girlish behavior, Helena wrapped herself under the blankets and allowed herself the indulgence of being mildly comforted by the smell of Myka that lingered on her pillow as she forced her eyes to close.

And moments later, she scowled, with great irritation, when her Farnsworth began to buzz – in that purely obnoxious manner that it does – and she flicked it open, snapping out a, "What?" before she'd even taken a proper look at who was calling.

"Hello to you, too," Myka's voice returned.

Sighing, a bit with relief, and a bit more with remorse, Helena murmured, "Oh, Myka. I'm sorry, darling. I'm afraid I'm having a spot of trouble sleeping. It seems to have me a bit tense."

Helena leaned up to turn on the bedside lamp, and squinted as she gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the light.

"Are you okay?" Myka asked, clearly concerned as her brow furrowed inward.

"Yes. I simply find my mood to be more agreeable when in your company," she admitted, smiling fondly.

"Yeah," Myka said guiltily. "Mine too. Poor Pete shoved the Farnsworth at me in the elevator and told me to call you and get some sleep. I think I've been grumpy with him."

"Myka," Helena laughed warmly, "you might owe our dear Agent Lattimer an apology. Your idea of grumpy can be quite lethal, darling – and, from experience, I do mean that quite literally."

"I hate apologizing to Pete," Myka bemoaned. "He's all sweet about it at first; then he gloats. A lot. And, by the way, lethal is a really strong word."

"You shoved me against a wall with your hand to my throat," Helena deadpanned, raising a brow. "Though I will admit to more than a few improper thoughts at the time, it was quite evident that your temper was not to be trifled with. Lethal, I'm afraid, is quite suitable."

Myka rolled her eyes. "I didn't know anything about you, Helena. Only that you killed a man in front of me – "

"An evil man, who, for the record, intended you great harm," Helena interjected defensively.

"And then took off, and suddenly showed up in the middle of an investigation," Myka continued, smiling playfully as she breezed past Helena's interruption. "If my temper was in play – "

"If, indeed," Helena murmured dryly. "It most certainly was."

"Then it was well-deserved," Myka finished, pointedly. "Though, I will say, it might have been second to my curiosity."

"Oh?" Helena inquired, shifting onto her side and propping herself onto an elbow to more comfortably view her lover's face in the small window.

"Helena, I've admired your novels since I learned to read," Myka laughed softly. "I used to read them to my cousin before she went to sleep. Of course I was curious about you. It took a long time to reconcile one of my favorite authors with… well, with you."

"I suspect it would have been quite a shock," Helena conceded.

"It was," Myka confirmed. "I had a hard time acknowledging you as a threat, even after MacPherson. So I might have overcompensated a little when I put you against the wall."

"Dear Myka, you're more than welcome to put me against the wall any time you like," Helena murmured seductively.

Myka groaned. "Don't do that."

"What's that, darling?" Helena feigned innocence with a small grin.

"That," Myka huffed. "With the laying in bed and the little nightgown and the suggestive tone. Don't do that."

Helena had quite honestly forgotten about the nightgown that she'd tossed on before climbing into bed, but she found herself more than pleased that it was helping to work Myka into frustration. Mercifully, however, Helena decided against further teasing Myka for tonight. "I'm sorry, love. I'll do my best to refrain from any further tantalizations."

"Good," Myka stated, though she seemed nearly as frustrated by the lack of provocation as she had been by its existence.

Helena smiled her satisfaction privately, before she moved the conversation forward. "I'm not sure that I've ever heard you mention a cousin before now," she segued gracefully.

She heard the rustle of plastic as Myka looked down, and she raised a brow when Myka rose to face the screen again, a newly unpackaged Twizzler in her hand.

"Savannah," Myka nodded. "I guess I don't really talk about her a lot. I like to keep her separate from the Warehouse."

"You read to her, when she was young?" Helena asked gently, sensing that, though Myka didn't speak it aloud, she had very fond feelings for this particular relative.

"Younger," Myka shrugged, laughing. "I still do, when she can't sleep."

"And how old is she?"

"Twenty-four," Myka said, rolling her eyes. "You wouldn't know it, though."

"She behaves differently?" Helena pushed, enjoying the spark of light in Myka's eyes as she spoke.

"Savannah?" Myka laughed. "She's kind of all over the map. Sometimes she acts her age. Others…" Myka shrugged, and then grinned and shook her head. "Not so much. She's so smart, and intuitive; sometimes it's like she's eighty. And then she'll call in the middle of the night, and she's a little kid again."

"You care for her a great deal," Helena murmured softly.

"Yeah," Myka beamed, but then she frowned. "It must be really hard to not have family here," she offered, very empathetic and sweet.

Yet, Helena snorted. "My brother Charles was a conduit for my works, to be sure – but he was an arrogant man, with little sense for finance, and even littler sense for reason. I had a few other familial relationships, but none that were terribly binding."

"That's sad," Myka said quietly.

"You place a high premium on family," Helena denoted. "You speak of your parents often, and of your sister, and you evidently share a close bond with this cousin of yours. I, however, have always found family to be… tiring, I suppose. I had such ambitious notions, Myka. And I was thought to be foolish for them, particularly by my family. My mother was an overly religious Protestant woman," she rolled her eyes. "And my father… He was very philosophical. He believed in the work of reason and logic."

"You like reason and logic," Myka tilted her head to the left, confused, as a cherry red Twizzler dipped into the side of her mouth.

"Yes," Helena said blankly.

"But you didn't like him?" Myka tried to understand. "I don't get it. What was the problem?"

"Presently, my love," Helena found herself whispering darkly, "my sole problem rests with the idea of that candy rope tasting more of you than I am currently able."

"Firstly," Myka said, flushing deeply, and gesturing toward the Farnsworth with the offending twist of sugar, "it's not tasting me, I'm tasting it. Secondly, behave," she scowled.

With a pained sigh, Helena assented, "As you wish."

"So," Myka pushed onward, calming herself until only a faint touch of pink rested in her cheeks. "Your dad?"

"Yes," Helena nodded. "Very intelligent man, my father. I acquired much of my rather precocious mind from him."

"So humble," Myka said, though affection laced through her words.

"It isn't arrogance, Myka," Helena smiled caringly. "Even in this time, I find my intelligence to often be more of a hindrance than a help."

"I can't believe that," Myka shook her head.

"As I said: I always had such ambitious notions, darling. They weren't always well received."

"But you said your dad liked reason," Myka reminded.

"Yes," Helena nodded. "But as an idea. He very rarely acted upon much of anything, really, and he was quite disappointed when I began to voice my desires to do so. He was rather blunt when he informed me that a woman could have no significant impact in the society that we lived in, despite that – intellectually speaking – we demonstrated very few differences to men. He acknowledged that, logically, there was no true reason for why things ought to have been that way, but he was quite clear in his assertion that the age in which we lived would not tolerate it, and he quickly dashed the idea before the conversation developed any further."

"He was clearly mistaken," Myka shrugged easily.

Helena raised a brow, intrigued once more by Myka's obvious confidence in her achievements. "I've done as many awful things in my life as I have decent, Myka," she reminded softly.

Myka shook her head. "That isn't true."

"I know that you make it a custom to see the best in me, love – "

"No," Myka cut her off. "With your writings alone, you have no idea how much good you've done. There's a reason that your works are so renowned, Helena. They inspire people. And you… You spent a lot of your earlier life doing exactly what we do now; saving the world. You might have tried to go about saving it a little differently than most," she admitted, shrugging again while she rubbed a fist against her eye, "but you save the world. And that's a good thing."

"If you insist, darling," Helena allowed, acknowledging with the motion of Myka's hand that she truly must be worn.

"I do," Myka said firmly.

Helena chuckled, and allowed the fond smile to linger on her mouth as she spoke. "You're exhausted."

"I know," Myka sighed. "I just… missed you."

"And I, you," Helena murmured.

"But I should let you go," Myka said softly. "Pete and I have to be up early."

"I would imagine so," Helena nodded. "Sleep, now, darling. We'll speak soon."

"Okay," Myka yawned, reaching to tuck her Twizzlers into the drawer of her nightstand, before she snuggled into her bed. "Helena?"

"Mm?" Helena hummed, smiling adoringly. Myka was simply so endearing.

"I love you," Myka mumbled, clearly tipping toward sleep more rapidly than she had planned.

"I love you, darling Myka," Helena sighed warmly.

"G'night," Myka murmured drowsily, her eyes closing in a blink that lasted several moments too long.

"Goodnight, my love."