Her mouth was dry. Fuzzy and dry, and Helena was simply parched. But Helena thought to amend that assertion, because there was nothing simple about it; satisfying that particular need implied ambulatory movement, and Helena was certain that motion was outside of her present skill set.
She couldn't open her eyes. She felt weak, and her eyelids were heavy, and she was sure that if she cracked them open, the sun would be glowing optimistically (appallingly, in Helena's opinion) through the window of Myka's room – and she knew it was Myka's room, because the scent of her lover lingered everywhere, and it offered Helena more comfort than anyone in such a hungover state should be permitted, but she wasn't about to challenge it.
"There's water on the nightstand," she heard, and felt Myka's chest shift beneath her face as the words were spoken.
"Darling," Helena sighed, tightening her fingers over Myka's hip in a gesture that expressed more gratitude than Helena's vocabulary was currently able to relay, "you're such a marvelous creature."
Myka chuckled sleepily, and Helena felt her partner's hand rise to filter slender fingers through her hair. "How are you feeling?"
Helena rolled her eyes even from beneath lowered lids, but she fought to widen them when Myka's sweet motions proved to be holding the ache in her head at bay. "Dreadful," Helena complained. "Which is no less than I deserve, of course."
Myka hummed softly. "There's aspirin over there, too," she shared with a small, sympathetic smile. "And a warm washcloth."
"I imagine that might be a bit cool if it's been left to sit throughout the evening," Helena said, amused at her lover's oversight.
"It hasn't," Myka sighed tiredly, shaking her head. "Savannah's been having nightmares all night. The last one was about half an hour ago. The heat helps her get back to sleep," Myka explained, and Helena could abruptly hear the pure exhaustion in Myka's voice.
"Oh, darling," Helena tendered gently, lifting her chin – with more effort than should ever be required – in order to prop it over Myka's heart, "You may rest longer, if you wish; I'm sorry to have woken you again."
"You didn't," Myka assured. "I've been up most of the night," she offered with a shrug.
Helena made a small noise of discontent. "With the nightmares, I imagine," she frowned.
"That… And it was sort of… cramped," Myka decided after a moment's pause.
Helena's head tilted to the side with her confusion, but Myka turned her gaze to her left, and when Helena's eyes tracked the movement, she curiously found Savannah's dark head to be resting against her lover's shoulder.
She lifted a brow in amusement. "And here I was under the impression that I was the only woman granted the privilege of sharing your bed," Helena teased.
"It's your fault," Myka said, sweeping her hands up to the back of Helena's thighs and offering a playful squeeze.
"Oh?" Helena inquired. She could recall most of the evening, but she couldn't quite remember their voyage upstairs, and mostly all that remained was Myka's voice hushing her into sleep.
"Mm," Myka hummed her confirmation. "Savannah wanted me to read to her before she went to bed, and you decided you wanted to listen in. But Savannah fell asleep not long after you, and I didn't want to wake either of you, so…"
"So you allowed the two of us to employ you as a cushion?" Helena asked softly.
"She hadn't slept in two days," Myka justified. "And you smacked me with a pillow when I got up earlier to fill that glass of water, so it's a good thing I didn't try to wake you any sooner."
"I have no recollection of that, darling," Helena informed, apologetic. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright," Myka smiled forgivingly, though it was easy and quick, and Helena marveled at the wonder that was Myka Bering.
"Does this happen often in Savannah's attendance?" Helena asked, gesturing briefly toward Savannah's position against Myka before she leaned up to grasp for the aspirin and the glass of water that her lover had so thoughtfully retrieved for her.
"It did when she was a kid," Myka laughed quietly. "I called her a bedbug once, and she thought it was the funniest thing. But, you know…" Myka said, grinning, "she was only seven."
"I confess, I did wonder why you called her a 'bug,'" Helena mused, curling into Myka's side.
"Mm," Myka nodded, lifting her arm so that Helena could be more comfortably tucked against her. "I read to her most nights I'm with her, so she normally falls asleep in her own bed, but every now and then I'll wake up while she's crawling into mine. She doesn't like to talk about it. I think she just likes the company."
"She does," an abrupt grumble emerged from Myka's opposite shoulder. "You know what else she likes? Sleep. Don't care if the voice is soft and British. I'm sleeping now. There should be no voicing."
"Your hatred for mornings appears to have some genetic origin, darling," Helena declared, amused.
Myka laughed. "Savannah normally likes mornings," she divulged. "But she didn't sleep much, or very well, so she's a little grumpy," Myka finished affectionately, shifting one hand to soothe over Savannah's back.
Savannah, despite her ill temper, sighed drowsily at the touch and murmured, "Love you, Mykey."
"You too, bug," Myka said, and whispered a kiss over the top of the young woman's head. "Get some sleep, okay?"
"'Kay," Savannah agreed groggily, flopping onto her other side and thus freeing Myka's shoulder.
"I need to call Artie and see if he found Braid's manuscript," Myka shared quietly, several moments later. Helena suspected that she had been waiting to speak until the soft sighs of Savannah's sleep had touched her ears. "And I need some coffee before that," Myka added.
"Would you like me to accompany you, love?" Helena offered.
"If you want," Myka smiled gently. "But if you want to stay in bed for a while, that's fine, too. You can't be feeling too great."
"Just a quick shower, darling," Helena dismissed, lowering her mouth to press a loving kiss to Myka's. "And I'll join you downstairs, hm?"
"Okay," Myka muttered, though her one hand clenched tighter over Helena's side, and the other rose to cradle her cheek before Myka leaned upward to steal another kiss. "I love you, Helena," she said sincerely.
"My darling Myka," Helena breathed, brushing her lips over her lover's forehead, "I love you, as well."
With a heavy sigh that spoke of Myka's trepidation and exhaustion, Myka said softly, "I'll see you in a little while."
"Indeed you will, my love," Helena assured, dropping one reassuring kiss lightly against Myka's lips, and proffering an encouraging glance before Myka shifted from the bed to make her way through the door.
Helena was worried. Myka had just spoken with Artie (who was, of course, at the Warehouse in spite of the fact that it was barely past six in the morning – a fact which Helena scoffed at), and the cantankerous man had informed her that the manuscript was in the Warehouse aisles, but the accompanying blank pages were not. Or, if they were, they were not where they should be.
Myka had taken that information much better than she had taken the news about Braid's manuscript when speaking with Artie the previous evening, but Helena wasn't sure if that was due to some deep psychological searching, or if Myka was masking an emotion that she didn't want to reveal.
Helena knew, and had now seen how greatly Myka cared for Savannah, and Myka was right to be worried for her. But Helena's primary concern was Myka, and she wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject without upsetting her partner.
"I'm okay, Helena," Myka told her, interrupting Helena's thoughts from her seat at the small table, where her mouth dipped over a mug of coffee.
"I had not voiced otherwise," Helena said, lifting her cup of tea and carrying it to sit beside her lover.
"But you were thinking it," Myka replied knowingly.
Helena sighed, and reached over to cover Myka's thigh with her free palm. "Myka, darling, this is a very difficult situation. I merely wish that it was a circumstance you needn't suffer through."
Myka nodded thoughtfully. It took a moment before she spoke again, but her voice was soft when she said, "Helena, I reacted badly when I found out about the manuscript… and I reacted worse when I found out about Nero's bow. But I have a tendency to behave poorly where Savannah is involved. When she was six, I punched a kid on the playground because he shoved her out of his way," Myka deadpanned.
And Helena laughed, purely enchanted, because her Myka was precisely the sort of woman who would defend her smaller cousin in such a violent manner.
"But I know that being angry isn't going to help her," Myka continued with a small, lingering smile. "I'm not saying that it won't come up again, because the idea of anyone hurting her just… it makes my insides boil, Helena," Myka said venomously, but then took a long, deep breath, and a moment to collect herself. "But right now, Savannah's scared, and she's being introduced to a world of things that don't make sense to her, yet. She needs me to be the calm one," Myka shrugged. "And if I want to find out who's been doing this to her, then I need to be smart about it."
"I suppose you're correct," Helena considered. "However, in the event that you feel the need to be stupid about it, instead," she jested, and allowed herself to absorb Myka's small laugh before she continued, "you must know that you can speak with me. I will be whatever you need, Myka. I will be angry for you, if it comforts you, in the times where you cannot allow yourself that emotion."
"Helena – " Myka began breathily.
"No," Helena shook her head, and delicately set her tea onto the saucer, shifting to sit sideways in her chair and face her lover. "The moments that I've shared with you since my return to the Warehouse have been delightful, and enlightening, and for the first time in over a century, I find myself happy. Because of you, Myka," Helena lifted her hand to hold Myka's cheek in her palm. "Because of your love, and your faith, and the trust that you impart with me, despite that I have earned none of those things from you. And if ever I can repay any of that… Darling, I am more than pleased to accommodate in any manner that I am able."
"Repay?" Myka inquired on a murmur, and then swiftly shook her head. "Helena, my love, and my faith, and my trust – those aren't things that you're obligated to return," she frowned. "I just… feel them. I feel them a lot, and I feel them strong and… and hot inside me, if you can make that make any sense at all," Myka laughed nervously and looked downward, but when she raised her eyes again, they were bristling with emotion. "You are brilliant, Helena – beautiful, and sweet, and intelligent, and… just everything that I need, all at once. I've told you before… You don't owe me anything. You have no idea how much you've already given me."
"Nothing, in comparison to how much you've granted me, Myka," Helena whispered expressively.
Myka leaned her face into Helena's touch, and brought her hand up to hold the one that pressed into her cheek. She then leaned forward and touched her forehead against Helena's, and asked gently, "Can't we just be even? Because I'm happy, too, Helena. I'm so happy with you, in spite of everything that's happening with Savannah, and I've never been so happy. So, can't we just be even?"
"Even?" Helena feigned a frown. "But I do so enjoy emerging the victor, darling," she pouted.
Myka laughed softly and tilted her chin upward, brushing their mouths together in a kiss that was soft, and slow, and –
Interrupted.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Pete greeted cheerfully. "Wanna pre-breakfast snack?" He asked, tugging at the refrigerator door and stooping over to poke his head inside. "It's too early for breakfast," he lamented, with a slight frown, "so I'm gonna pick at something that's not as good and go back to bed for a couple hours."
Helena scowled at him, and it was a wonder that Pete didn't shrivel beneath the sheer intensity and heat of it, because she could recall no other occasion that had inspired this much frustration with the goofy man.
"Hey, Pete?" Myka said, tucking her lips between her teeth briefly to hide her amusement.
"What's up, Mykes?" He asked as he turned around, a Go-Gurt held in one hand and a slice of pizza that was God-knows-how-old in the other.
"You're about five seconds from having your face smashed into the table," Myka disclosed with wide eyes, casting a sympathetic look in his direction. "Do you think you could give us a few minutes?"
"Uh… Yup!" He agreed quickly, finally latching his gaze onto Helena's corresponding one of fury. "Sure thing. HG, I'm super sorry. But I'm not ready to die today, so just give me two seconds and – I'm just… I'm going! Find me later, Mykes, and tell me what's going on with Savannah."
"I will," Myka promised, and offered him a small wave before he moved through the threshold.
Helena's lips parted to speak, but Myka covered them with her own, tangling her fingers tightly into Helena's hair and scraping her teeth over Helena's bottom lip. This kiss was neither soft, nor slow, and – to Helena's great satisfaction – it was not interrupted.
Really, was this too much to ask for? A mere moment of uninterrupted time to lather passion over the woman she loved? Surely she wasn't asking for much…
Author's Note: Next chapter will have some more plot-like things, but I think this chapter was important. I'm twenty-four chapters into this story, and I've spent so much time on it... Even I forget sometimes that Helena and Myka have only actually been seeing each other "officially" for less than a week. I tried to integrate a little of this with their cuddling discussion a few chapters ago, but despite their long friendship, they don't know everything about how their relationship works, just yet.
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