I'm going to try to do either weekly or biweekly updates for the rest of this story! Don't worry, there's still a bit left, but yeah I will be trying to update more often. Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter Twelve

Helena's scream brought Myka into action. She ran into the room and let her instincts take over. She did a barrel roll between two zombies that were about to lunge for her to kick away the one gripping Helena's arm. The thing fell back, disoriented.

On the floor, she saw a long, thin metal pipe. She reached for it and jumped up just in time to bash a zombie in the head with it repeatedly until it was dead. She then spun around quickly and skewered it through the heads of two zombies simultaneously, like an undead shish kebab.

Last was the one that had attacked Helena. Myka was seeing red as she approached the slow moving, stupid creature, which was still disoriented from that kick she gave it. Myka kicked it again. And again. And again. It fell to the ground. She kicked it in the head, repeatedly. She jumped down, straddling the thing, drew her dagger and stabbed it in the face. Again and again, screaming in rage, she stabbed it in the face and tore out its flesh and bashed it in the head. Long after it was dead she continued to mutilate the creature, taking out all her anger and frustration and fear. She didn't notice when she started crying.

Pete and Helena just watched in stunned silence as she violently attacked the dead zombie. Helena cradled her injured arm, but had forgotten about the pain. When Myka's cries turned from anger to anguish, Helena decided to intervene. She stepped up and crouched next to Myka, putting a good hand on the other woman's shoulder. Myka tensed at first, and almost lunged at Helena, but then she saw the look in her eyes and relaxed.

"Shh, Myka, it's alright," Helena whispered, rubbing Myka's back. "I'm fine, see. You can stop now." She put a hand over Myka's that was gripping the dagger tightly, coaxing her fingers to loosen her grip. Slowly, Myka relaxed her hand, along with the rest of her body. The bloody knife clattered to the ground. She fell into Helena's arms, sobbing.

Helena just held her, rubbing her back, whispering soothing words into her ear. "Shh, darling, everything's going to be alright."

"Y-you could've d-died," Myka choked out through her sobs.

"But I didn't, dear," Helena whispered. "You saved me."

Myka sniffled and coughed, trying to cease her tears. After a few moments, Myka mumbled, "You were r-right."

"About what?" Helena asked softly.

"I do care about you."

Helena smiled softly and pressed her lips to Myka's hair, still holding onto her, relaxing her. Pete left to wait outside because he felt like he was intruding.

When Myka's crying ceased, Helena began to notice the pain in her arm. She looked down and suddenly remembered the bloody gash.

"Oh, no," Helena panicked.

"Oh, gosh, Helena, I'm so sorry," Myka apologized, seeing her injury. She sniffled and wiped away some of her tears. "I should've helped you with that first."

"No, Myka, this is bad!" Helena exclaimed. "I've been scratched, I'm going to turn!" She backed away from Myka, afraid to hurt her. "You have to shoot me!"

"What? No, Helena, calm down!" Myka said, and placed her hands on Helena's shoulders. "The Warehouse came up with this antibacterial cream that neutralizes the bacteria from a scratch." Helena was starting to cry, but Myka cupped her face, wiping a few tears. "Helena, you're going to be fine. I've just got to fix that up for you."

Helena nodded. Myka guided them both outside with Pete because they didn't want to be in the room with those dead zombies anymore. They sat on the porch as Myka got out their medical kit and cleaned up all the blood and dirt. She put on the neutralizing cream and Helena winced at the sting, but it was better than a bullet to the head.

"Helena, you're going to need stitches," Myka said.

"Wonderful," Helena muttered sarcastically. "How am I supposed to get those?"

"Oh, I was going to do them, I was just warning you."

"Oh, brilliant."

Myka dabbed a bit of alcohol at the wound, and got out one of their small bottles of whiskey that said, in extremely large print, "FOR MEDICAL EMERGENCIES ONLY". As in, no using them to get drunk. Just to numb the pain.

Helena finished the whole bottle in a few gulps, and Myka got to work stitching up her arm. Myka concentrated, in order to finish as quickly as possible; she knew how uncomfortable getting stitches was. Helena just closed her eyes and braced herself.

"Okay, all done," Myka said as she finished up. She put a bandage over it and warned Helena against excessive movement for a day or two so it wouldn't open again. Thankfully it had been her left arm, so she could still fight with her right, if necessary.

"Thank you, doctor," Helena mumbled with a grin. "I'm feeling better already." She looked into Myka's eyes, with a smile on her face, and Myka gazed back. The silence was broken when a snore erupted from Pete.

"I guess Pete fell asleep," Myka giggled. They glanced over at him. He had taken out his sleeping bag, but hadn't even bothered to get inside and fell asleep on top of it. "Looks like we're sleeping on the porch tonight. I don't know about you, but I'm not going back in there."

"Oh, I agree. Porch it is." Helena reached for her backpack to retrieve her sleeping bag, but Myka swatted her hand away.

"No," Myka warned. "You sit, rest. I'll get your sleeping bag set up."

Helena smiled in thanks. "What would I do without you?"

Myka unrolled Helena's sleeping bag and set it down. She grabbed her own bag and started for the other side of the porch, but Helena stopped her. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Setting up my sleeping bag," Myka answered, confused.

"Over there?" Helena asked. Myka nodded, but Helena shook her head and gestured pointedly at the space next to her own. Myka smiled and did as she asked.

When Myka finished, she came back over to help Helena up. She grabbed Helena's good hand and slowly lifted her off the porch. Helena pulled away, but continued holding Myka's hand in her own, and turned to face the taller woman. "Thank you," she whispered, and squeezed Myka's hand.

Myka nodded, understanding what she meant. After a moment's hesitation that was thwarted by a glisten in Helena's eyes, Myka leaned down and captured her lips with her own. She tasted of sweat and a little bit of blood, but also of a taste that was distinctly Helena, and Myka committed that taste to her memory. Unlike their previous, sudden kisses, which were either brief or rushed, this one was thought out and slow, allowing Myka and Helena to savor every moment as their lips moved against each other and tongues traced delicate patterns within their mouths and their hearts fluttered in content.

Myka broke the kiss reluctantly, but sadly her lungs could not survive on the taste of Helena alone; they required oxygen as well. She sucked in breaths of air and rested her forehead against Helena's. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's quite alright, dear," Helena replied. "You've more than made up for it."

"It's just, it scares me," Myka admitted. "The way I feel for you."

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Helena reassured, and she pressed their lips together once again, more briefly this time. Still holding Myka's hand, she laced their fingers together and led her over to their sleeping bags.

They both also decided to forgo sleeping inside the bags tonight, and instead got comfortable on top of them, curled up into each other, legs tangled together, close enough to feel and hear the steady rhythm of each other's breathing.