{fic: WH13} Lady of Truth, Part 3
Title: Lady of Truth
Date: 16th April - 28th May, 2012
Spoilers: Post season three, after everything has been fixed.
Notes: written for written for windandthestars' February 'oops' ficathon - but the fic is actually for SarahDude because of our discussion about Dickens and her declaration of my existence as him.
Disclaimer: Warehouse 13, it's characters and all related do not belong to me. Nor does Egyptian mythology... Though that would be interesting
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{ Part 1} { Part 2}
CHAPTER TEN
Not moving immediately upon waking was the hardest thing Helena had to learn about having a bed partner, especially when the bed partner in question was Myka Bering. It was not unusual for Helena to wake entangled in her longer limbs, the hands so fascinated by her hair during the day having embedded themselves so firmly in sleep. It had only taken a few painful mornings for Helena to learn not to move until she had safely extracted herself.
As such, when Helena woke the next morning she performed her usual limb check before rising. Moving her legs slightly she was surprised to find them completely free. This surprise increased tenfold when her arms, too, were unencumbered; there was no arm draped heavily over her chest. All the warmth that signified a foreign body, in fact, was centered around her neck. Opening her eyes slowly, Helena started slightly at the sea of brown fur obscuring her field of vision.
Helena had settled MykaCat last night in a basket in the parlour (previously home to Leena's knitting, don't tell), but had relented a short time later when the cat made her way upstairs to their door. There was a conflict in Helena's mind over the part of MykaCat that was indeed her Myka, and the part that was simply a cat. But there was no way that Helena could have ignored the piteous mewling of either. MykaCat had practically skipped into the room (as much as it was possible for a cat to skip), seemingly just as happy to have drawn Helena from her bed as to having gained entry to the room. MykaCat had curled up in the centre of Myka's side of the bed, just as Myka made a point of doing every night. Helena supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that MykaCat would adjust herself in the same manner.
At some point in the night, MykaCat had decided that sharing a pillow would be nice and she had curled up against Helena, her front paws coming to drape over the white length of Helena's neck like a scarf. Wary of the cat's claws, Helena rearranged her gently, shifting the sleepy paws back onto the pillow. For once she was grateful for Myka's inherent morning sleepiness as she did not particularly wish to have to explain claw marks to Pete.
As usual, Helena could rearrange her all she liked, but it was the simple act of herself rising from the bed that had Myka awake and protesting. Sighing gently, Helena pulled MykaCat to her, ignoring the brown fur that now spotted the pillow, and held her in the comforting manner that Claudia had shown her yesterday.
And with MykaCat curled up so happily in her lap, purring away in contentment, it was hard to remember why she had protested so strongly in the first place.
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Claudia returned the strawberry jam to the table ever so slightly out of Pete's reach. It was just a standard reaction these days, the low level antagonism that existed between them. It certainly wasn't new, Pete having quickly and easily filling the void that Joshua's move to CERN had created (or rather, reopened after way too short a term of closure), but with Jinksy gone and Myka and Helena's relationship blossoming, the pair had drawn together and their sibling behaviour (which ran the whole gamut from affection to rivalry) had intensified.
This morning, however, Pete's mind was on other things, and he thought nothing of stretching for the jam. Grabbing it, he took his customary two spoonfuls (one for his toast, one for his mouth) and fixed Claudia and Leena with a thoughtful look.
"Do you think," he asked. "That if HG doesn't learn whatever it is she has to learn that Myka will stay a cat forever?"
"Well that hardly seems fair to Myka," Claudia said sadly.
"And when, of the many cases you have seen at the Warehouse to date, have you ever seen an artifact play fair?" Leena asked, gently.
"Um. Good point."
Hearing Helena on the stairs, Leena rose to begin steeping the tea leaves Helena preferred.
"Dude, what are we going to do?" Claudia asked, some of the adorable charm of the situation wearing off with this realisation.
"I don't think there's anything we can do here, Claud," he lamented. "I think it's all up to HG."
"What's all 'up to me'?" Helena asked, entering the room with MykaCat curled gently in the crook of her arm, tail hanging as if she didn't have a care in the world.
Pete and Claudia looked at each other cautiously. They had all been remarkably impressed and proud and Helena for the progress she had made with her rehabilitation, for the steps she had made to regain her life. But, while there was no longer any issues of distrust, there was concern among the non Bering-and-Wells contingent of the team about what it might take to break that hard earned control and drop her back into the heartache that lurked beneath the surface. Personally, Pete believed that Myka was the key to making or breaking HG Wells, just as she had always been - and hearing that she was Myka's sole hope for saving may just be more than she could handle.
"Cat food," Pete said, steadfastly avoiding Claudia's eyes. "It's up to you to go get the cat food."
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As it turned out, food wasn't the only thing Helena had needed to procure. She remembered their maid, Frances, putting out a saucer of milk for the stray cat she shared with the other maids in their street, but that, and an occasional scratch behind the ears, was the the end of that cat's pampering. Nothing in that memory had prepared Helena for the Univille pet supply store, overflowing as it was with all manner of cleaning supplies, bedding and pet toys in every conceivable shape and colour.
Helena had returned to the B&B with packages falling from her arms. If Pete had a comment, he wisely kept it to himself, making himself useful by gathering her quickly descending packages. Her eyes casting about, she was saved asking after Myka by Claudia's entry into the room, cat in hand.
"We had a lovely time with Aunty Claudia, didn't we MykaKitty?" Claudia crooned, her cheeks brushing against the cat's whiskers. Helena smiled, considering the response Myka would surely have for Claudia's baby talk when she retook human form.
Having started to squirm upon noticing Helena's presence, Claudia handed MykaCat off, pleased at how much happier the cat was in Helena's arms.
Allowing the cat to crawl around in her arms, finding the most comfortable position, Helena's hands found the cold metal hanging from the cat's neck. It was a round, bronze coloured disc attached to a strip of leather that had been fashioned into a collar. Helena recognised the neat, tidy stitches of Leena's hand on the collar, but the bronze medallion was all Claudia. She had, with her surprisingly steady hand, etched the likeness of a cog on one side (no doubt a reference to this 'steampunk' the girl insisted on associating with every aspect of Helena's being). Floating over the fine lines of the gear was Myka's name, firm of line and straight of serif. With the metal warming in her hand, she flipped it over, expecting to see the address of the B&B. Instead, in that same undeniable hand, Claudia had engraved a single word: 'Helena's'.
Helena had never considered herself a possessive person. She had spent the majority of her life as a Victorian lady (however rebellious) where nothing, not even the words constructed by her own hand, had belonged to her. And yet her heart leapt at the sight of the singular word, the presence of that beautiful apostrophe.
It was true, she finally, and wholly, realised. Myka was hers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MykaCat settled into life at the B&B quickly and surely. Like all cats, she appeared as though she owned the place, moving about where and when she pleased... though like her human counterpart, she could often be found haunting the library or snoozing in Helena's lap. While they all missed human Myka terribly, it took no time at all for the inhabitants of Leena's B&B to fall completely in love with MykaCat - except perhaps for Leena herself...
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Pete and Helena had been sent on a mission. It was to be a quick snag, bag and tag at an antique store a few towns over, but still, Helena was reluctant to leave. The reality of Myka's condition and her own singular role in her restoration had hit Helena and she did not want to leave her alone. After four attempts to sneak MykaCat into the car, however, Pete had rescued the thoroughly ruffled feline and delivered her back into the B&B under the watchful eye of Leena.
If Helena was opposed to the idea of having a cat as a pet, Leena was opposed to cats in general and, after Helena, was the one who was the most eager to restore Myka to her human form. It was hard enough, sometimes, to look after this rag tag collection of agents; make sure they slept enough, ate proper meals and didn't fall apart from the sheer insanity of their daily lives. Everything was made much harder when covered with a thick layer of cat fur.
Leena had accepted the extra vacuuming into her routine, she had learnt to deal with MykaCat joining them at the table, sitting primly on Helena's lap, she had even grown accustomed to her friend's trailing off mid-conversation, hypnotised by some apparently adorable feline manoeuvre MykaCat was currently engaged in. But on this day Leena's waning patience gave out. The sound of tearing fabric was surprisingly loud, carrying far into the next room as MykaCat's sharp claws shredded the leg of the lounge.
It was the last day MykaCat spent alone in the B&B with Leena.
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MykaCat fared far better in the warehouse, her destructive catty tendencies never surfacing. Artie believed that the ambient energies of the multitude of artifacts worked together to mute the effect of the Bast artifact. Helena, however, was of the opinion that Myka simply felt more comfortable here in the Warehouse, it being the place she was often the most happy.
Since her banishment from the B&B during the day, MykaCat had been bundled up with the agents every morning, but, far from being content to be the warehouse's temporary but much loved mascot, she had taken to striding down the aisles with purpose, joining Claudia in her never ending stock taking. No amount of admonishing would make her - or Claudia, who thought it wonderfully entertaining - stop. Thankfully, MykaCat was content to stay off the shelves, and was actually quite in tune with the warehouse's eccentricities, often hissing any wayward artifacts back into place before they had a chance to misbehave.
When she tired of this roaming, however, MykaCat would always return to the same place - atop Artie's piano, one leg and that perpetually twitching tail hanging from above. Artie did not approve of her apparently favourite resting place - which was, no doubt, the very reason she favoured it so.
Hours were wasted with Artie's fruitless shooing, his force removal of her to the floor (resulting in the clearly spiteful move to sit directly upon the keys), and his plaintive looks at Helena - who enjoyed the show far too much to interfere.
After hearing Leena's decree, Artie had let MykaCat into the warehouse, but he was an old bear of a man and was often cranky at anything that disrupted his usual routine. It was clear, however, that just like human Myka, MykaCat had a special pull on Artie, and she seemed to enjoy provoking him whenever possible. She seemed to take immense kitty satisfaction whenever she was able to draw him from his work, to the point where he would, begrudgingly, pet her awkwardly.
And so it was that MykaCat came to spend her afternoons with Artie. He claimed MykaCat to be a nuisance, one who evilly delighted in pouncing on his pen and blocking the computer screen at the most inopportune moments. And yet for all his complaints, Helena had found him, on more than one occasion, conversing with the cat when he thought no one was around. Propped up on the piano, MykaCat would watch, entranced by his fingers flying over the keys below as Artie quietly discussed everything from the current mission and their team to the correct wrist movement of the perfect arpeggio.
Helena wasn't sure how much Myka understood in this state, but it was obvious that, if nothing else, she was soothed by the gruff growl of Artie's voice. It warmed Helena's heart to know, to see so clearly, that there were others who loved Myka as much as she, who would be there to comfort her if ever she could not be.
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Pete took to MykaCat with all his usual subtlety. There was no doubt that he missed his partner immensely, both in and out of the field, but he was compensating this loss by subjecting the poor creature to an inordinate amount of attention. Helena did not know if he had had a pet as a child, but she truly hoped that he had not, for it's sake if nothing else.
Pete fashioned small, cat sized hats and socks from his own wardrobe - cutting the fingers from his gloves to pull over her little paws. Nothing was sacred, with even Claudia's Star Wars bear having it's robes and tiny lightsabre repurposed and becoming clothing for the ever suffering cat. To her credit, MykaCat endured it with good humor, with Pete suffering only a minimum of scratches.
Helena's efforts to make him stop were half-hearted at best, because it was clear that he truly did miss his friend. The man was a big kid with an even bigger heart, Helena knew, with his days divided between his work, the sibling war he seemed to be engaged in with Claudia and his loving torment of MykaCat. And, to be fair, the trauma he was subjecting MykaCat to was not truly any different to the treatment he would have given its human counterpart - it just so happened that MykaCat was smaller and therefore ill equipped to evade the crazy man with the tiny Jedi outfit.
There came a night, however that MykaCat did not join Helena at her work table, nor did she appear from whomever had been pampering her to follow Helena up the stairs to their room. Helena had changed for bed and drawn back the covers waiting for her to arrive and yet still she had not. Grabbing Myka's thick flannel robe from the back of the door (far cozier than Helena's own satin one on the accompanying hook), she set out to find her.
There were difficulties to living in a household full of adults, and one the number one concern for all involved was that of privacy. As such, there was nothing more sacred than a closed door. Pete's door, however, had been left open just enough to let the light fall out across the landing, the sound of some gratuitous violence falling from his TV.
Slipping inside, Helena was stopped by the sight before her. Pete had clearly fallen asleep midway through the movie, but not before he had built a little nest of bedding for his companion. MykaCat, however, had abandoned his construction, and the now thoroughly knotted ball of yarn from Leena's stockpile (Helena made a note to do something nice for the poor woman soon) dangling over the side of the bed. Seeking warmth or comfort, the cat had curled her small body between mattress and Pete's ribs. At some point in his sleep Pete had curled his body around the cat protectively.
Helena had discovered the pair, and sometimes Claudia, in similar positions several times over the months she had been living here in the B&B, and she had always thought (perhaps ironically given Myka's current state) that they had reminded her of a litter of puppies, drawn together and ultimately dropping from their shared excited exhaustion. This was a part of Myka's world to which she did not belong, this give and take comprised of equal parts love, protection and provocation, but she found that she didn't mind so much.
Standing in the doorway she watched as Pete gave off a snore, no doubt induced by the awkward angle he was sleeping in. MykaCat opened her eyes slowly at the disruption and Helena's heart warmed as those green eyes, still oh so Myka, locked onto hers. MykaCat gave her a soft mewl and Helena nodded as she turned off the TV and returned to her room quietly.
'He needed me tonight,' it said. 'He is better now, but he needed me."
Helena understood her just fine.
----
It was quite clear from the outset that MykaCat preferred Helena's company above all others - it was her lap that she would curl up into at every opportunity, her ankles that she wound around again and again as if marking her territory clearly against any potential interlopers. Not that any of the others were surprised by this, mind; Myka had been fascinated by and enamoured with every aspect of Helena's existence since her arrival in their time.
Despite MykaCat's obvious preference, however, the rest of her odd little family enjoyed the company also, and tended to rebel whenever Helena and her new little shadow retired to their bedroom of an evening. And so it came to be that every night after dinner the inhabitants of the B&B would gather, one by one, in the lounge. On this particular evening, Claudia was the first to bound into the lounge, forgoing Leena's offer of hot chocolate for the opportunity to snag the best seat.
Helena was last to arrive having had to wheedle the location of her tea leaves out of Pete (the latest in their ongoing coffee/tea debate) and then stand by Leena as they made their hot beverages together. By the time her leaves had steeped to their fullest, all the others had taken up their preferred placement around the room.
Usually by this time, MykaCat could be found roaming from person to person, her surprisingly heavy footfalls skipping from one lap to the next as she gave each of her people their due love and attention (or, translated into feline, giving them all the chance to give HER due love and attention). Tonight, however, MykaCat appeared to be having some sort of fit, darting sharply from side to side, before dropping low to the ground and issuing a determined snarl.
Helena abandoned her tea on the side table, not even slowing to ensure it had made purchase on the surface, rushing forward with her heart in her throat. What was happening? Had the effects of the artifact gone on too long? Was the stress of the transformation too much? It was all her fault. Myka had depended on her - on HER - and she had let her down, and now there was nothing she would ever be able to do to make it up to her.
The sound of laughter pulled Helena up short. Claudia, Pete, Leena - even Artie, who had been spending more time at the B&B lately - they were all joining in a happy chuckle.
Now closer, Helena could see that MykaCat was not having a seizure, but was, in fact, quite happily attacking a bright red spot on the ground, pouncing around the room as Claudia moved the laser pointer from one surface to another.
"What is going on here?" Helena asked, her tone a little sharper than she had intended, but since she had just bypassed a near heart attack she figured it was forgivable.
Claudia glanced over at her, and even in the scant seconds she afforded her, Helena could see the glee on the young woman's face. It was rare that Claudia did anything for sheer in-the-moment pleasure, despite Pete and Myka's attempts to guide her in that direction. She had certainly not shown anything close to this degree of pleasure since Steve's passing.
"Aw, mum, we're just playing," she said. "She likes it, look."
With that, she moved the light slightly from side to side, MykaCat watching it intensely, before flicking it up to land squarely on Artie's forehead. There was a short beat in which for Artie to realise exactly what was happening, but since MykaCat had not hesitated in her movements it did him little good. Her claws hooked into the linen of his trousers as she scrambled up his legs, over his lap and up onto his shoulders in order to reach the offending spot. Despite his attempts to glare at her, not even Artie could resist the gales of laughter that came from Claudia as MykaCat hung, belly on the top of Artie's head, in order for her paws to bat at the spot.
MykaCat didn't look confused when the spot disappeared, as Helena had expected her to, but rather just gave them all what looked like an indulgent look.
Reaching behind the cushion, Claudia called for Helena's attention, "Actually, HG, if you don't mind, I've made her something." She pulled out what looked like a modified grappler. Helena had been working on updating the device and had several discarded models lying about her workbench; it seemed that Claudia had appropriated one for her own use.
Depressing the trigger, they all watched as a ball of tightly wound yarn flew from the end (Helena was relieved to see that it was the same yarn Pete had confiscated earlier, though she avoided Leena's eyes all the same). MykaCat pounced on it immediately, her earlier frenetic movements overshadowed by this new display of joy. Flipping a toggle she had installed on the butt of the device, Helena watched as Claudia's ingenuity allowed for the yarn to return to the barrel, winding itself as it did so.
Helena laughed in delight, "That is marvellous, Claudia darling. Perhaps I should be enlisting you with my modification attempts in future."
Claudia's grin grew even wider under the praise, and Helena reminded herself just how young Claudia was, and how much she needed her. Looking around the room and the smiling happy faces, she revised her thoughts: needed all of them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Life at the Warehouse had been quiet of late, the lack of the usual dire emergency combining with the melancholy over Myka's absence to create a general disheartening of all within its walls. Artie escaped into his music, with even MykaCat's attempts to draw him out being unsuccessful. Pete and Claudia had taken to their rooms, entertaining themselves with movies and tinkering. Leena found herself running around from room to room, coaxing them with food and tea - but none would move until the evening drew them all together once more.
The mood had hit Helena particularly hard. With Myka's transformation encroaching into its second month, Helena was feeling the edges of her control start to waver. There was no compulsion to end the world, much to everyone's relief, but her new found cheer and good spirit had diminished of late. She could be found most days curled up on the settee in the Warehouse library, MykaCat at her side and no intentions of moving.
Myka had introduced Helena to the library with a childlike glee. She had blindfolded the all too willing woman and pulled her in by the hand, uncovering her eyes with a happy flourish, completely unaware that her partner was more enamoured by her beautiful smile than even the multitude of books lining the unending shelves. Needless to say, the room had quickly become their favourite, and they soon pulled in the brocaded settee to make it a little more homely. None of the others truly frequented the library, so it soon became their private hide out, hours whiled away in each others arms, reading over shoulders, fingers tracing over limbs and words in equal measure.
Having no issued assignment that day, Helena had slipped away after breakfast with little more than a flick of her wrist required to ensure the following of soft padding footfalls. The pair disappeared into the library like they had done so many times before. Helena claimed her place on the lounge, covering her knees with the lace throw she and Leena had knit together, needles clicking under the watchful eyes of Claudia and Myka (both too wary to contribute).
MykaCat, who had already well perfected the aerodynamics required to land perfectly in Helena's lap, took up her place with a confident fluidity. She bumped the top of her head against Helena's chin a few times, allowing her to recognise the pleasant scent of hot dust that accompanied MykaCat when she was in the warehouse - a clear sign that she had been poking her whiskers where they did not belong. Her paws needed Helena's thighs and belly gently, her forepaws alternating the pressure in a smooth rhythm, before setting in with an expectant stare. As far as cats went, this one was particularly spoilt, and she was no doubt expecting a little pampering. Scratching her behind the ears and under the chin, Helena revelled in the sound of contented purring, in how easy it was for her to make Myka happy.
She reached for the slim leather volume next to the settee. They had been working their way through The Island of Doctor Moreau - not that Helena would be telling Pete that - and they had spent several days with MykaCat napping on Helena’s chest, the sound of her voice slowly lulling both of them into a peaceful nap. She did not open the book today, however, the quiet humour she had found in reading her own words about sentient animals having waned in the light of Myka's continued condition. Instead she placed the book upon herself, its hard leather bound covers butting up against and disappearing into the halo of MykaCat's soft fur. Helena's fingers traced the light embossing, the gold leafed lines that swirled in an ordered chaos over the covers. Round and round her fingers traced, the tips drying and catching on each turn. It wasn't until a gentle paw landed upon them that she stopped.
It pained her that she had not been able to trigger Myka's transformation. She was not an overly modest individual - she knew she was more intelligent than most, but this was not a matter of smarts, she could not think her way out of this problem. It was a matter of emotion, not thought, and this was so far from her expertise. The traitorous notion that Pete would have figured this out weeks ago traipsed across her tired mind once again.
She was, Helena thought breakingly, no closer to a solution than she was when this whole mess had started. Being emotionally misaligned was nothing new, she had become used to that after Christina's death - but this time it meant Myka's life, and the knowledge that it was her own inadequacies dooming her bought fresh tears to her eyes.
MykaCat chirped at the tracks establishing themselves down Helena's face, appearing just as they so often did late in the night. Myka would touch her face with those undeniable hands of hers, kiss away the saltiness that was her fallen tears, and hold her tightly until it passed. Her simple presence had worked wonders for Helena's stability and now even that had been denied her.
With a fresh sob, Helena hitched MykaCat up higher on her chest so that her cold little nose tucked into her neck, and Helena's face disappeared into the beautiful variegated fur of her back. It hurt to think it, but there was a good chance she would never land on the correct balance of emotional truths to bring Myka back. All she could do was be here to comfort her as best she could.
Her fingers caressed the spot on MykaCat's neck that she liked so much, that delicious purring oscillating through her tiny body and into the skin of Helena's face, drawing an unwitting smile from her sullen depression. It comforted her to know that she didn't have to do everything, be Myka's everything - that the others: Pete, Claudia, Artie - even Leena, who kept coming back time and again, despite her grumbles - they would always be there for Myka. But, she admitted selfishly, it comforted her even more to know that she alone made her truly happy like no one else could. She would do anything to get Myka back, she would never give up on the one person she loved more than life itself. But in the meantime, she would do all she could to bring her comfort. And with this thought lingering in her mind, they both fell asleep to the sound of their soft breaths mingling together.
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Helena considered dreams to be traitorous things. More often than not hers were filled with images of her daughter that left her gasping awake, tear soaked and more than a little panicked. Occasionally the lurking depths of her mind delivered up a treat, but so distrustful was she of her own subconsciousness that she was never able to fully enjoy them.
She had to give them credit, however, her dreams were vivid (often horribly so), which did make the pleasant variety hard to ignore. At present her brain was finding it hard to dismiss the wonderful scent she was surrounded in. It was warm, and carried the slight trace of cinnamon and paper. She hated her subconscious for immersing herself in that scent, the scent that was so undeniably Myka.
There were few scents so easily recognisable to her: the scent of apples never failed to move her, not the rich bitterness of fresh ink, and there was nothing quite like the wafting aroma of a pot of tea cutting through the biting cold of a winter morning. But Myka, the gentle notes that clung to her skin, Helena would know them anywhere.
She dared not open her eyes - for as much as her heart was pained by this dream, moreso would it ache to see it fade away. Instead she clenched her eyes tighter, forcing herself to hold onto the delicious sensations.
She had almost forgotten the exact weight of Myka's body draped over hers, of the way her soft skin gave way under her hands. She had banished the memory of Myka's wandering fingers that, even in her sleep would dance along Helena's ribs, landing gleefully entangled in her hair. She had suppressed the gentle tickle of curls against her cheek, locks coming to wind around Helena like a vine climbing a tree. All these things, having been so treasured, had been put aside. Until her traitorous memory dredged them up in her dreams.
Her dream Myka sighed in her sleep, snuggling further against Helena's own body. Like always, Helena was struck with the thought that Myka was trying to burrow her way into Helena's being, and she was both touched and saddened by this desperate show of love. They were well suited, this pair, if nothing else than in their fervent need for companionship and affection.
Deciding that even a glance at Myka's face would be worth the risk of waking, Helena opened her eyes into the nest of brown curls that filled her field of vision. She took a second to consider the shifting shades, so very much the colour MykaCat had been. Lifting her hand to smooth the hair back out of Myka's face, she held her breath when Myka reached up to hold Helena's hand in her own.
Helena had a marvellous imagination, but there was no way that any dream of even hers could accurately render the light and spirit in Myka's eyes as they locked onto hers. No dream could capture that perfect look of pure love.
"Helena," she whispered, and Helena was hard pressed not to think of it as a 'purr', husky from disuse as it was.
For the first time ever, Helena found herself completely bereft of words. Despite having spent two months with nothing but the most ardent wish to scoop Myka up and whisper to her all the worlds of her heart, there was nothing - what could she say?
In place of her words, fresh tears flowed anew. Myka, now awake and full of a special coltish grace at finding her body whole again, reached up to rest a palm on Helena's cheek. Slowly, achingly so, she stretched that beautiful neck of hers to kiss away the tears before they could disappear over the crest of Helena's chin, the salty drops disappearing behind the soft smoothness of her lips. No longer draped over her, Myka pulled Helena safely into the protective barrier afforded by her own limbs and whispered softly into her ear.
"You found me," she said. "You found the truth and bought me back."
Her breath was too concerned with releasing her relief at Myka's return, and so Helena nodded wordlessly into Myka's arms.
"Thank you," Myka uttered gently, earnestly. "Thank you for loving me."
And that was the answer, Helena knew. She had fallen for Myka from the moment they had met, charmed by this strong, intelligent woman of the future, this product of her time's legacy. But all the things she had loved about her were all the things that stopped her from believing herself worthy of her. It had taken Helena all this time to see the truth: that she was worthy of love, that making Myka happy was all that was required of her - and that loving her was something she could do in abundance. It had been the hardest truth she had ever had to learn, but also the most rewarding. Drawing herself closer, Helena allowed herself to fully enjoy the feel of being in Myka's arms once more, truly happy for the first time in months.
"I hope you know," Myka said, between light kisses over Helena's neck. "That I fully intend on keeping the collar."
EPILOGUE
"Duuuuuuuuuude," Claudia whined. "Move already, it' s my turn!"
"Nu-uh!" Pete cried. "I just got here! Make HG move."
Claudia scoffed. "Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen."
Myka felt her feet fly up and land back on the cushions as Claudia forcefully yanked Pete from the lounge. She opened her eyes just in time to catch the glare Pete gave his usurper. Claudia carefully lifted Myka's stockinged feet, slipping her lap between them and the lounge. Myka had sat there, her head in Helena's lap like she had done countless times before, but it had not been long before the others had formed their odd rotational foot massage. Not that Myka was minding terribly much.
They had all been delighted when Helena and the newly rehumanised Myka entered the Warehouse office. Claudia had barrelled across the room, this blurred ball of colour and energy, nearly wiping Myka out with the force of her hug. Pete, unable to break through Claudia's squirming glee, had settled for wrapping Helena in a giant bear hug, picking her up as he did so. Myka caught the manoeuvre out of the corner of her eye, pleased to see the affection between them - she did not hear Pete's quiet words of gratitude, the whispered 'we got our girl back' passing between them.
Though Claudia's hug would not end anytime soon, the intensity did diminish enough for Pete to grab Helena once more and pull her into the group hug. Looking through the amassed collection of shoulders Myka saw Artie looking upon them all with relief and joy; nothing made him happier than having all his team together. Myka's absence had affected them all greatly, and he had been far from immune to the grief they had endured.
Myka had been hard pressed to shuck them off long enough to get home, with them all trying to pile into the same car - much to Helena's frustration and Myka's amusement. Eventually, however, they had made it, and they revelled in their first evening gathering with Myka in attendance.
Having been forcibly removed from prime Myka petting position (Myka wasn't thinking about it too hard, she was just going with it), Pete had disappeared into the kitchen. Fully anticipating his move, Myka was not surprised to see him return with the cookie jar under his arm. She was not, however, expecting the saucer of milk that was unceremoniously shoved under her nose. "Thirsty, Myka?"
She glared at him over the rim of the saucer and spoke matter-of-factly, "Cats are lactose intolerant Pete, they don't drink milk."
"Huh," he said, lowing the saucer. "Didn't stop you from drinking the milk from my cereal every morning."
Myka closed her eyes on the memory. If she shut them tight enough and didn't look at Pete directly then she could pretend that that hadn't happened. She didn't expect this to truly work, she had quite clear memories of laser pointers and yarn - and she was fairly certain she had eaten three of Artie's socks. If there was one thing she could count on her friends for it was to torment her mercilessly over the coming weeks - Leena got quite used to checking every room for the abandoned saucers of milk Pete taunted her with and confiscating the laser-grappler from Claudia's mischievous hands.
Deciding to simply ignore him for now, Myka snuggled deeper into the lounge enjoying the warmth of Claudia's hands through her socks, kneading the flesh gently in a steady calming rhythm. Helena threaded her fingers through Myka's curls, studying the way they straightened out to twice their length with her gentle tugging. She could hear Pete and Artie discussing something, but could not summon up the energy to focus in on whatever it was. Leena's voice floated over the gentle din, her happily amused tone saying something about purring. Myka could not remember a time she had been more content.
Sliding further and further into her cosy rest, Myka fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist, the still new leather starting to soften as it twirled around and around, gently scraping her skin. Helena had been bought to tears when she had seen the collar now wrapped around Myka's arm, the gravity pulling the bronze medallion to hang at the back, the etched 'Helena's' pressing always against Myka's pulse point. She had offered to have something made for her, something more 'fitting', but Myka had refused point blank to even let her touch the bracelet. It was there to stay.
Seeing Myka fiddle with it fondly, a habit in the making, Helena leaned over her, kissing her from above. Not a word was said from anyone, the teasing of them (however fondly it has been made) had now ceased. Myka was home.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
For everyone who has read along and left wonderful comments on this fic, I thank you - I hope you noticed when I picked up your ideas and suggestions and folded them into the chapters. Despite the fic now being finished, there are still several MykaCat scenarios that I have drafted out (most coming out of late night conversations between mynameisme91 and myself, so be warned) - eventually I will write them out so if you're interested, there will be MykaCat!verse ficlets popping up occasionally.