Author's Note: So... I only really got to the beginning of the plot-like things. Oops. Fluff was calling to me.
Myka was still asleep.
It had been nearly ten hours, and the sun had fallen over the horizon three hours before. Helena was concerned, but she didn't wake her lover for lunch, or for dinner, hoping that Myka would feel rejuvenated when she finally did rise from bed. Claudia had brought up a couple plates for them, but she had frowned when she noted that Myka still had not awakened since her last visit around six.
"Dude," Claudia asked thoughtfully, shuffling her feet but managing to keep a firm grip on the tray of food that she carried, "is she okay?"
Helena sighed and shook her head, exhaustion creeping through. She hadn't done anything particularly strenuous throughout the day – and had, in fact, spent the majority of it lying still at Myka's side, with a book that she'd nicked from the nightstand – but her mind had been locked into a furious pace since Claudia's admission of the Warehouse's oddities earlier in the morning, and her worry for Myka certainly hadn't relieved her of stress. Mentally, she was, indeed, exhausted.
"She was awake for much of the night," Helena informed quietly, peeking behind her to be sure that her partner hadn't stirred. "But it's very unusual for Myka to sleep this long, and she's gotten considerably warmer throughout the evening."
"Well… maybe she should eat something? I dunno," Claudia confessed with a rolling shrug of one shoulder. "I don't really take care of sick people much. Are you sure she's not dead?" She teased, because it was odd for Myka to sleep so long, and Helena imagined that the girl thought it something to mock Myka for when she awoke.
But Claudia had quite clearly underestimated the weight of Helena's concern, and Helena sharply directed a scowl that would have had Hitler thinking twice of his actions.
"Yeah," Claudia rushed nervously, cautiously taking an unknowing step backward. "Not so funny. My bad."
"With the fever, I believe it's safe to assume that she needs the rest," Helena replied pointedly, doing her very best to ignore the shudder that threatened to overcome her at Claudia's playful supposition, and the supposition altogether.
"I guess," Claudia conceded, though it was obvious that she was a bit fretful. "Anyway," she asserted more cheerfully, "I brought dinner. I figured since you guys hadn't reappeared that Myka might still be asleep, and the last time you weren't there when she woke up, things got a little rough. Like, apocalyptically rough. I thought we should avoid round two."
"Thank you," Helena replied genuinely, because the same thought had kept her from straying to the kitchen hours before, when her stomach had protested the lack of nourishment.
"Sure thing," Claudia assured, thrusting the tray into the author's hands. "Tell her I hope she feels better. Y'know, whenever she wakes up."
"I'll be sure to," Helena promised. "Goodnight, Claudia."
"Night!" Claudia bade her farewell with a springy step and a wave.
Helena ate her meal in silence from the armchair near the window. And when she finished, she borrowed a few of Myka's things to change into, and crawled into bed beside her lover.
Myka, in turn, shifted around uncomfortably before loosely hanging her arm around Helena's middle in the process of flopping onto her stomach. Helena couldn't help a small chuckle. For such a reserved person in her waking business hours, Myka exhibited no such restrictions in her slumbering ones.
Or in her sexual ones, Helena thought, pleased.
And, not for the first time, Helena found herself marveling at her good fortune. Myka was tremendously endearing; she was kind, and generous, and possessed a heart that Helena would shy to compare to gold, because it was so much more precious than the glimmering metal that so many seemed to favor.
And Myka Bering was hers.
Armed with both that knowledge and a full stomach, Helena turned onto her side and stroked a gentle index finger down the length of Myka's cheek. "Goodnight, my love," she murmured softly, dipping her head down to brush a kiss against the corner of her lover's mouth.
Myka drowsily muttered something unintelligible to Helena's ears, but Helena smiled fondly nevertheless and tucked herself beneath the blankets to attempt a few hours of sleep.
A rattling noise eased Helena from rest.
She frowned at it, and – with large effort – she coaxed her eyes open, promptly experiencing a brief moment of panic when she instantly realized that Myka was not at her side.
"Sorry," she heard from behind her, and she whirled around to face the secret service agent she had fallen to sleep with.
"Myka," she breathed on a sigh of relief. "You frightened me, I'm afraid."
"Sorry," Myka repeated sincerely. "I tried not to wake you."
"It's alright," Helena assured, shifting upward to rest her back against the headboard. "Waking to you is something I am certain I will never tire of, in whatever form it may arrive."
From her new position, Helena could now afford a better assessment of the younger woman, and she was decidedly unimpressed with what she found. Myka looked tired, and her cheeks were pink with fever. Helena could spot gooseflesh at her wrist even from the three feet between them, and the silk robe that Myka adorned (which Helena had a new appreciation for, after her first night in Myka's bed) easily allowed her to note that the chilled effect had spread over Myka's chest and shoulders. A bottle of aspirin was gripped in her hand.
"Oh, darling," she cooed sympathetically. "Let me," she insisted, stretching her arm out for the medicine that Myka held.
"I'm okay," Myka assured firmly, but relinquished the bottle nevertheless.
"I must assume that you are lying to me, Myka," Helena said softly, twisting the cap from the bottle and shaking two pills loose before placing them in Myka's palm, along with the glass of water from the nightstand. "Or, at least, you are not being entirely truthful. You seem quite ill."
"I've been worse," Myka said, offering a weak smile before tossing the medication into her mouth and chasing it with the beverage she'd been handed.
"When did you wake?" Helena inquired, tipping her head to the side to evaluate her lover with tenderness and concern so powerful that Helena was sure it would have startled her, in a past life.
"Around three," Myka shrugged, turning to face the window and huddling her robe tighter around her frame. Helena glanced at the clock; it was now five. "I took a bath," Myka offered. "I was hoping it would help."
"I can only draw the conclusion that it did not," Helena murmured gently, rising from the bed to circle her arms around Myka's waist, and, being pressed against her, Helena could feel exactly how warm she was. She was less than thrilled.
Myka shook her head, but sighed and leaned further into the warmth of Helena's embrace. Helena rested her chin atop Myka's shoulder, and hushed an innocent, but openmouthed kiss against her lover's jaw; she was content to hold Myka in quiet for a moment before counseling her back to bed.
"Vibes are Pete's thing," Myka mused abruptly, but Helena could discern that she was rather bemused.
Helena could share the sentiment. Nevertheless, she patiently waited for Myka to elaborate. When she didn't, Helena furrowed her brows downward, and inquired, "Are you experiencing a vibe, love?"
"I don't know," Myka admitted, and helplessly added, "I just have this really strange feeling that I should be at the Warehouse."
Helena frowned. "I don't believe you're in a well enough state to be travelling any further from your bed than this, darling," she paused. "I'm also hesitant for you to allow this feeling to guide you, as our dear Claudia informed me this morning that the Warehouse has been after your company."
"Huh?"
Myka's exhausted and atypically graceless reply charmed a smile to Helena's lips. "Mm," she hummed her confirmation of her previous statement. "Evidently, the Warehouse rather impolitely assailed Claudia with some of your things yesterday. She seems quite confident that the Warehouse is displeased, for some reason or another. She's deduced that it would appreciate your presence, though she's also very convinced that it means you no harm."
"If it means me no harm, then – "
"I have little reason to worry," Helena finished for her, a wry twist of her lips accompanying her statement. "And yet, I can't seem to help myself from doing so."
"You're sweet," Myka said softly, and Helena could see the affectionate smile that widened her mouth.
"I love you, Myka," Helena whispered quietly, her breath stretching warmth over Myka's cheek. "I would simply prefer if you could wait until you've recuperated from whatever illness has taken you before you approach the Warehouse. It would not due to be less than prepared for whatever may occur."
"Okay," Myka agreed, though Helena could easily see that this feeling was very much frustrating her partner. "And I love you, too, you know," she added warmly.
"I know, darling," Helena assured, touching her lips to Myka's cheek. And she did know. She merely couldn't understand how. But she wasn't about to question the greatest gift that she had been offered in this life; she was more than happy to accept Myka's feelings, and return them in kind.
"Can we lay down?" Myka asked tiredly, moments later. "I know I slept all day, but…" she shrugged feebly.
"Of course, love," Helena soothed, turning Myka in her arms and pressing a caring kiss to her mouth. "Come. My sleep was disturbed, anyway," she teased with a wink.
Myka chuckled softly, but nodded and followed Helena into bed, where Helena tucked her into her arms before Myka could steal the chance away from her by doing it herself. She grazed a kiss to Myka's temple, and quietly wished her a restful night.
"Where is Agent Bering?" Helena heard the unmistakably serene voice of Mrs. Frederic resonate from Artie's office to the foot of the stairs, where she stood with a wide-eyed Claudia, both holding inventory clipboards.
Helena set hers to rest at the table and swiftly ascended the stairs, Claudia hot on her heels. "Have you a need for her?" She inquired, and could have cringed at the obvious protective quality that her tone had adopted, if not for the fact that she so sincerely intended to do exactly that – protect Myka.
If the dark woman had expected a different reply (perhaps a proper reply to her query), she gave no indication. She regarded the Victorian with what Helena curiously discerned to be approval, and simply replied, "I've asked for her, have I not?"
Helena frowned. "She's fallen ill, I'm afraid."
Mrs. Frederic's expression turned pensive. "We must bring her to the Warehouse," she decided after several moments.
"But, Mrs. F, the Warehouse – " Claudia tried to protest.
"Intends her no harm. In fact, at this stage, the Warehouse will prove quite beneficial for Agent Bering's health," Mrs. Frederic informed.
Though Helena often wished that she wouldn't inform at all, as every word from the woman's mouth simply provided more questions than answers, and Helena found that infuriating. Particularly when it came to Myka.
"Arthur," Mrs. Frederic inclined her head. "Summon her, please."
Artie seemed confused, but followed the Caretaker's orders and picked up his Farnsworth to request that Myka make her way to the Warehouse as soon as she could.
Helena vaguely heard Myka mention something about having Savannah take her, which pleased her greatly. When she'd awoken Myka around nine that morning, her patient had informed her that she was a bit woozy. Helena had insisted that she take the day to recover, and had promptly picked up her own Farnsworth to inform Artie that Myka would be absent before her lover could think to dispute the decision. It was a Saturday, so the man was only slightly bothered, but Helena caught him grumbling something about the lost work the day before, when they had all overpoweringly elected to take the day off while Savannah acclimated to her surroundings.
But Helena was not content with Mrs. Frederic's request.
"Can this be done another time?" Helena huffed agitatedly. "Myka is not well."
"As I said, Agent Wells," Mrs. Frederic raised a brow as though daring Helena to make a third attempt to circumvent her demands, "the Warehouse will prove beneficial for her health."
And just what did that even mean?