Chapter Text
December 2013
Day 1
Icy wind pinches at the Ranger's face as she trudges up a short track to the final stop of the day, light snow swirling before her eyes. This cabin is located four miles north of the nearest park retreat, and she planned on being safely ensconced by just after sundown.
Bathed in soft light emitting from a side window, the Ranger shines a flashlight over a parked SUV, just making out a Nevada badge on the snow dusted plates. There are nearby footprints in the snow, now being filled by the fresh fall. An attached trailer holds a tarpaulin covered motorcycle, an exposed tyre suggests a road bike which she finds odd for these parts and this season. Rounding the corner of the cabin, a gust of wind catches her off balance, and her ankle twists awkwardly as she stumbles. "Damn!" cold air invades her lungs as she sucks in a breath. Recovering, taking the last few steps up to the porch, she raps on the door. Getting no answer, she moves to clear a circle in the side window, even as she feels the hard barrel of a rifle dig through her thick parka and between her shoulder blades.
“Don’t move a muscle" the accented voice was female - an even, controlled tone that carried through the wind and brooked no argument.
Counting five heartbeats, the Ranger waits, “May I speak?” she says, irritated, not without a hint of sarcasm.
There was a note of surprise in the response, “I shall step back, please turn around slowly.”
The pressure of the rifle is released, so the Ranger slowly raised her hands in supplication, turning as instructed. The owner of the voice appeared to have hastily thrown her gear on - black ski pants, boots and a ski jacket that looked a size too big, hung open to reveal a dark sweater. A green scarf was flung about her neck and mouth, but light spilling from the porch revealed ruddy, high cheekbones and eyes black as night, dark hair spilling from under a fur lined aviator. The Ranger patted a huge embroidered logo on her chest, ID badge securely clipped underneath. “As you can see,” raising her voice as the wind visibly picked up “National Park Ranger.”
With the slightest movement, the woman flicks on the narrow beam of a torch, better to verify the information in the waning light. "So you are, Ranger....Bering" she says, but does not lower the rifle. "May I enquire what brings you so far out, in this inclement weather?"
Ranger Bering looks pointedly at the barrel of the gun, then back up to impassive eyes, "I check properties each week" she states, then tips her head slightly to the side, eyes challenging, "although, I don't believe we have record of a visit here this weekend."
The stranger's cheeks push up with the movement of a smile, though it doesn't reach her eyes, "Last minute arrangement. I have a friend who suggested it."
"Does your friend also greet visitors at gunpoint?" She is becoming increasingly annoyed, there is a dull ache in her ankle and the weather is changing rapidly.
The woman lowers the gun suddenly, "To me you are a stranger, but forgive me, force of habit."
With her free hand she now pulls the scarf down to reveal full lips, already paled by the cold. "Do you need to, as you say, 'check the property'?" a corner of her mouth twitches as she gestures toward the doorway. Ranger Bering is about to make a very deliberate show of doing just that when the hiss of her radio signals an incoming call. She unhooks it from her belt and steps to the side as the woman moves past her onto the porch.
The voice of Ranger Jackson crackles through the air "Ranger Bering, do you have a location?"
"Ranger Jackson, I'm at Nielsen's cabin. Last stop, heading out in...15"
"Ranger, I'm looking at images which tell me there is a huge front almost upon you. You might wanna hole up there tonight." She looks at the woman shaking her coat, and beyond sees the glow of a log fire through the now open door.
"If I leave now, I could make it back" she does not want to stay here, now. There is something about the woman which has her on edge, her manner, her casual ease with a weapon, but the Ranger can feel a definite change in air pressure, so will have no choice in the matter.
"Ranger. Myka. 'Could' is not good enough, believe me, you don't want to get stuck out in this." he's firm, and she's learnt in a short time that Ranger Jackson's intuition is to be trusted in situations such as this. She sighs, silently berating herself for persisting in this weather for so long and failing to head back sooner.
"Ranger Bering, you are welcome to stay, there is plenty of room as I am sure you know." The woman pulls the hat from her head, dark shiny hair lifts in the wind and falls as she steps through the doorway without a backward glance.
"Ranger....Paul. I'm staying here. There's a lone female resident, last minute visitor apparently."
"Got that, check in first thing ok? It's a big one, over and out." The radio crackles into silence, and Myka Bering heads gingerly to the doorway, favouring her left foot. She brushes snow from her coat before stepping inside and bolting the door against the coming blizzard.
---
Myka pulls off her hat and gloves and places them on a side table. She's zipping down through the layers of her heavy duty jacket when the woman appears in a doorway.
"Ranger...a coffee, or tea perhaps?" She is still in ski pants but has pulled off her sweater, a long sleeve black tee is pushed up to reveal slender but firm arms, and hands devoid of jewellery. "I apologise for the greeting you received, it's just that, lone woman, wilderness..." She shrugs apologetically, waving a hand.
Myka relaxes a little in the face of her changed demeanour, though she doesn't quite buy the dismissive explanation, this woman knows she can take care of herself. "A coffee would be good and....apology accepted..." Myka tips her head "It's good that you can handle yourself, as you say, travelling alone…" There's a question lingering there, but the woman simply holds Myka's gaze and says, "I certainly can" with just the hint of a smirk, before turning and striding back into the kitchen. Myka feels a flush of heat colour her neck, so busies herself by removing her boots and waterproofs before following.
There are three brown grocery bags on the kitchen worktop, the open fridge door reveals well stocked shelves. "So, Myka...unusual name?" she is filling a large cafetière, then by way of explanation, looks over her shoulder "I heard your Ranger friend on the radio."
"A variation on my grandfather's name," Myka is unsure why she finds herself so...forthcoming. She thinks she is lulled into compliance with the sound of her name drawn out by that accent, it's disconcerting, but a strangely pleasant if unfamiliar feeling.
"Hmmm, Polish, perhaps?" she retrieves milk from the fridge, then, loaded tray in hand nods behind Myka to suggest they head to the lounge.
"Correct." Myka, is surprised by the accurate guess, "...and you are English...?"
"Helena" she says with a smile, again not answering directly. "Myka, you appear to have hurt your ankle?"
Myka drops herself at one end of the sofa in front of the fire, "It's nothing, I fell in the snow. Pretty much a minute before having a gun pointed at me" she says with a wry smile. This conversation feels on the border of flirtatious, something she has not...indulged...in for a very long time, has not wanted and didn't think she ever would again.
"Ah, well, let me make it up to you" her host leaves the room to return with a bag of ice. "Here, lift up" she kneels, and as Myka reluctantly pulls both legs onto the sofa, Helena positions the ice under the right ankle. Her hands linger for a moment before patting the bag lightly. "Thankfully I have more," she smiles, "I prefer my Scotch over ice."
Helena pours two mugs of coffee before settling at the opposite end, facing Myka with her own legs bent at the knee, tucked up under her chin.
"So, it seems we are in for a bad night?" She asks casually, sipping her coffee slowly.
"Yeah, Paul is normally spot on, but only the morning will tell us how bad it is." Myka adjusts the ice, glad of it now that the sting has passed.
"Well if we are snowed in, I have plenty of supplies."
Myka sincerely hopes they are not snowed in, she has a job to do, and being trapped is not high on her wishlist right now. "I hope not," she says, "I would develop a severe case of cabin fever, not pretty."
Helena mumbles into her mug "Oh, I doubt that, Ranger".
Myka isn't sure if that was intended for her ears so she ignores it, takes a sip of her drink and asks, "So, what brings you here, last minute?"
Helena's demeanour shifts slightly, the playful air diminishes as she turns her head toward the fire, grasps at the material just below her neck "I needed time away, on my own...this place presented itself as an option..." she trails off and Myka suddenly feels like an intruder.
"I’m sorry, I..." she starts, before Helena's eyes snap back up to her.
"Don't be. Away doesn't always mean alone, just different." Any further discussion is dismissed as she stands up "I think it's time for a top up."
Helena stretches her legs, then procures a short, flat bottle from the cabinet in the corner of the room "Care for a shot?" Her tone has lightened again, and she refills her mug before pouring in a dash or two of alcohol.
Myka hesitates "Technically, I'm still on duty, so I'll refrain." She winces at how ridiculous she sounds whilst lying on a sofa, leg propped up, wind howling outside, and no way of returning to her post. Helena just raises an amused eyebrow, steps over, cafetière in her right hand, and gestures with the four slender fingers of her left for Myka to hand over her mug. Myka finds herself watching those fingers and hands now as they hold her mug, pour the coffee and push it back to her. Helena grabs the whiskey and holds it tipped over Myka's mug.
"Tell me when" she says, glint in her eye, and drops a splash into the mug. The aroma hits Myka's senses, makes her feel warm inside, and she looks up at Helena's eyes, offers a crooked smile then nods. Without breaking eye contact, voice low, Helena murmurs "Good woman." Then she pours a second, more generous amount into the mug.
They settle back in silence for a while, and Myka feels her eyes drooping, so she shifts position to rouse herself, "Have you drugged me?" she says in jest.
"Not yet, darling" Helena laughs softly, "Feel free to sleep though, don't mind me."
Myka wonders at the use of the affectionate term, it's so very English, but her fatigue wins out and her last thought before drifting off is that she should radio in again during the blizzard to check signal and status.
---
She's running, heart pounding, it's all she can hear, the thud, thud, thud of her blood pumping. The air is thick with dust, debris raining down creating a macabre winter wonderland. She's searching, frantic, she's screaming a name but no sound comes from her mouth. She stumbles, drops to her knees and there by her hand is a crimson smear, a shock of blond hair, a body half covered by rubble. Her hands reach, start to claw at bricks and twisted metal, but there's too much. It's an infinite pile, rebuilding as quickly as she clears it. Her chest is heaving, her hands are cut, teary eyed she feels her throat constricting...
"Myka...Myka...."
She jolts awake, eyes wide, struggling wildly as a firm grip tries to pin her arms at her sides.
"Myka...it's a dream, a nightmare"
Above her is a woman, and as her eyes focus she realises it is Helena, she is on the sofa in the Neilsen cabin. She allows herself to be subdued, seeks out the dark eyes above, wills her breathing to slow. After a moment Helena whispers, "Ok now?" and when Myka nods she feels the grip released and Helena sits up but does not leave her side.
"I put a blanket over you, but you may have gotten a bit hot..?"
Myka folds the blanket down, finds her voice which sounds gravelly to her ears "I think, just a little..." She looks at Helena more closely, sees a red welt at her temple, reaches up to touch it...and feels her wrist quickly clasped in Helena's hand, then slowly released. She closes the gap to gently touch the mark, Helena doesn't even wince, just watches her. "Did I do that?" Myka whispers remorsefully.
"It's nothing, honestly" Helena's voice is low, she doesn't move "Are you sure you're ok? You were quite distressed"
Realising she is still touching Helena's face, Myka pulls her hand away to twist with her other. "It's just a nightmare I have. The past." she says without thinking, like the past is some time so far gone it doesn't matter. But it does, and she closes her eyes.
"You lost someone" Helena says, it's a statement. Myka knows her expressions betray her, but this stranger appears to understand. Then as if Helena has read her mind, she continues "The nightmares. If I were laying there asleep, I fear it would play out the same."
Myka opens her eyes as Helena sighs heavily and moves to stand, but Myka stills her with a touch to her arm. "Thank you, and I'm sorry I have intruded on your haven."
Helena appears to consider something, then says, "You are right, it is a haven of sorts. Sometimes we need to get away from the things that make us remember." She is clutching at her neck again, and now Myka can see there is a chain peeking from the neckline of Helena's top. She looks at Myka now, sincerity in her intense gaze, "You are a welcome intruder, Myka, despite our shaky start. You are very welcome."
Myka moves to sit up, but before she can reply, Helena assists her then stands, "I shall go prepare you a room" and she disappears. Myka is exhausted but she finds herself wanting to stay up with Helena, to talk and find comfort. Because, inexplicably, that is what she has found tonight. Despite only a few hours, despite the nightmare, it's the closest thing to peacefulness in eight months. It may be the circumstances, brought together in the warmth of the cabin, but she feels a connection to Helena, she is a shameful flirt but Myka senses it is part of a carefully maintained front. She knows there is grief in Helena’s life, she fights with it too.
Helena returns, now changed into nightwear - sleep shorts and a light tank top, revealing toned legs and upper arms. Myka finds herself drawn in by the sight. She is confused by it and a little guilty, but it's there, a thrum in her veins.
"I've left something on your bed, for sleeping in, if you want it..." Helena is back to her lighter mood, she cocks her head at Myka, "Is something amusing you?"
Myka colours, realises she has the semblance of a smile on her face. She is stuck on the sofa feeling ungainly, caught admiring Helena's body and a nervous giggle slips out. She has to laugh at herself "I don't know where that noise came from, how much Scotch did you put in my coffee?"
Helena smirks, "Certainly not that much. But would you like a proper drink before bed?" Myka nods, and decides she is far too warm now so swings herself up and brings her legs down before pushing up, leaning on her left. Helena moves forward, holding both arms out in case, but Myka steps gingerly and finds it's not so bad "I'll live" she says, "but I really need to get out of these clothes before I melt."
She heads for the room Helena indicates, it has a queen sized bed, a dark duvet, faux fur rug plus a pine wardrobe and set of drawers. Basic, but cosy in the soft light of a single lamp on the bedside table. Helena has left a pair of light long cotton pyjama pants, a grey tank and hooded sweatshirt on the bed. Myka changes and emerges from the bedroom feeling less constricted and certainly less overwhelmed by the heat of the fire. A tumbler awaits her on the coffee table, neat whiskey, and there is a small bucket with tongs so she drops three ice cubes into the glass. Helena emerges from the kitchen again, her own drink in hand, plus a broad, flat box. "I had a rummage and found this, would you care for a game?" Myka can see now that it is an old battered Scrabble box, scuffed at the edges, one corner torn. She smiles, one of the nicer childhood memories of her parents surfacing "Yes, why not."
In the main, they play in comfortable silence, they are a pretty even match and Myka thinks that they surprise each other. She learns that Helena is just as competitive, and there's a delay in the game as she searches the cabin for a dictionary, incensed that Myka doesn't view the Oxford English Dictionary as the only source for settling disputes. "You are in the USA now, Helena" she'd said, and earnt a magnificent scowl.
One game and a number of whiskeys later both of them are stifling yawns and by unspoken agreement ready themselves for bed. Taking the spare toothbrush Helena offers her while stood outside the bathroom, Myka thanks her, "It sounds like the wind has died down out there so hopefully I'll be out of your hair in the morning, but thank you."
Helena murmurs, "It's been no trouble at all" as they cross paths in the doorway. Myka stumbles and feels her arm caught by Helena's firm grip once again. Myka looks up, and an oft used phrase about her own clumsiness dies on her lips when she sees Helena's eyes, they are fixed on the place where her fingers curl around Myka's bare arm. Her hand is warm, and Myka becomes hyper aware of the touch as she straightens so that she is looking down at Helena. Her mind whirls, this touch is intimate, they are stood close in a doorway with a bright bathroom one side, and a dimly lit hallway the other. When Helena's eyes shift upwards, Myka feels trapped by them, she recognises desire, and wonders what her own eyes betray. Do they betray the same, a need to feel desired and desire in return, or do they betray grief, guilt and regret. It is this thought which causes an involuntary choking noise in her throat, and she looks away, pushing herself into the bathroom, feeling warm fingers release her arm. She somehow says a "Goodnight" and Helena reaches in to pull the door over, "Goodnight, Myka" she says, voice neutral and Myka wonders if she just imagined the tension between them.
Day 2
When Myka awakes, she can see that it has been light for hours, and when she fumbles for her watch she's shocked to see it is near 11am. She doesn't recall sleeping this long and unbroken for a while, but her mouth feels bitter and her head is not quite clear. She heads to the bathroom to freshen up, releases her hair from its tie and runs her fingers through to loosen the knots. She throws on the light pants and fitted long sleeve tee that make up her base layer before picking up her radio and heading to the kitchen. The kettle is boiling, Helena is busy arranging some breakfast and she turns as Myka enters the room, "Morning, I heard you stir...coffee?" she says casually.
"Actually, do you have fruit juice? Anything will do...I'm just going to..." Myka gestures in the direction of the main door. "Go ahead" Helena sounds amused, "It's passed, but...well, see for yourself." When she opens the front door, Myka rolls her eyes and sighs. Snow has drifted against the cabin and it's waist high at this side. As she goes from window to window, she ascertains that the snow is half a metre deep in places. She radios in to colleagues and they confirm roads are currently impassable in the area, and the overnight forecast is for a drop in temperature which will not aid a thaw. She will not be leaving this cabin today or likely the next.
Back in the kitchen, Helena has set toasted bagels, cherry juice, tea and coffee on the table. Myka sits, takes a gulp of juice and raises the glass in thanks when Helena sits opposite.
"I've spoken to headquarters, it seems I will have to impose on your hospitality a while longer...." Helena passes over a plate which, when Myka reaches out to take, Helena doesn’t release. She holds her gaze, "It's no imposition, Myka. I told you." Myka smiles awkwardly under the attention, “Ok” and Helena releases the plate into her grasp. They eat in silence but Myka finds herself watching Helena’s hands as she prepares her tea, then as she spreads butter on a final piece of bagel and puts it in that mouth of hers. That mouth that Myka sees curve into a smile, slight creases at the edge of lips that she just wants to… Myka realises that the smile is meant for her, she has been caught out. She makes the mistake of looking up into Helena’s eyes and her expression jolts Myka. It is the ghost of the one last night when they stood in stasis by the bathroom, dark eyes hinting at desire - before they become unreadable again as she averts her gaze to pour more tea.
“I just need to…” Myka says, gesturing vaguely to the hallway, and she stands, scraping the chair back noisily, before walking away. She walks to the bathroom, takes a deep breath, looks at her slightly flushed cheeks and unruly hair in the mirror, ‘No, no, no’ she mutters to herself. How can her libido, dormant for so long, decide to return full force at this moment? She'd convinced herself that she'd imagined the tension between them last night, because being stranded with an attractive stranger, feeling this urge, is a recipe for disaster. She knows she can do little about it except endure, be professional. Be Myka.
When she returns to the kitchen, Helena is at the sink, her arms submerged in soapy water as she washes their dishes. And it’s absolutely no use, because Myka looks now at how the tight jeans Helena wears hug her hips and show the curve of her backside, how the fitted white tee stretches across slim shoulders, and there is a slight dampness near the base of her back where she must have leant against the counter. Most of all, she can see the smooth pale skin of her neck, dark strands hanging down where Helena has loosely clipped up her hair. That hair Myka now realises she wants to run her hands through. Last night, aware of her whiskey hazed state, Myka had hesitated, stopped something that had yet to start, the weight of her dream still fresh. But conversely, in the cold light of day, she finds herself wanting, and the wanting is new, it is a feeling she had forgotten. She has doubts, oh she has doubts, but this want is powerful enough to assuage them, not five minutes since resolving to resist. So she finds herself moving across the floor, her sock covered feet quiet but not silent. So that before Myka even stops, centimetres between them, Helena has ceased all motion, resting the flats of her arms on the edge of the sink, wet hands balling into loose fists. Her head remains tilted downwards, so Myka stoops to lightly kiss her neck, catching wisps of hair on her cool lips. When she pulls away, a sigh escapes from deep within her and she senses Helena shiver as breath hits skin.
"Myka" her name, spoken in a tone that could mean 'we shouldn't ' or 'we absolutely should'. So she dips her head down again to the same spot, presses an open mouthed kiss, a nip of teeth, a slow lick upward. There it is, a low, short groan that says absolutely, we should. To underline the point, Helena lifts her right arm up and over to grab the back of Myka's own neck with a wet palm, as she lifts and twist her head to offer her mouth to Myka's. It makes Myka close the now minimal gap, slipping an arm around Helena's waist so she is flush against the length of her. Myka hungrily accepts, this is no chaste kiss, there are lips and tongues and teeth and soon Helena's whole body turns into the embrace so that it can deepen. So that Myka feels her bottom lip sucked and dragged at by teeth, so that Myka can possess Helena's mouth and be possessed in return. They are breathless, Myka pulls away "I want..." she gasps, and Helena reaches up, nibbles at Myka's ear "So, take" she whispers. Myka feels it from the pit of her stomach, a noise pushes up and out, a moan, a growl of sorts and she doesn't recognise herself as she drops her hands down to grip the back of Helena's thighs and lifts. Helena grunts in approval, wraps her legs around Myka's firm torso as she is lifted up onto the edge of the counter, so that Helena is now the one who must to dip her head down to resume the kiss.
Myka squeezes firm thighs before letting her hands tease upwards to the edge of Helena's cotton tee, to snake her fingers under material. They groan into each other's mouths at this simple touch of skin against skin, and Myka wants more. She pushes her hands up Helena's back and then drags down, agonisingly slowly before grabbing the hem of the tee and lifting it up and off. Helena's arms, released from the material, drop loosely to rest on Myka's shoulders as Myka drinks in the sight of bare, lightly freckled skin and the curve of breasts against the deep purple silk of a bra. Her eyes drift up to a collarbone, and there she sees the chain, and attached is a locket. It is curiously old fashioned, out of place and out of time, and her hand drifts up as if to touch it but she stops, realising that Helena is holding very still, holding in a breath. Myka's eyes roam upwards to parted lips, to eyes dilated and black as night. Eyes that say 'please, don't ask, just leave it be', and Myka blinks, her hand drops back to grip a firm thigh. What she now sees in those eyes she is sure mirrors her own, an all consuming need to devour, to get lost in one another, to forget. "Hair" she says, and sees a flash of confusion, then amused understanding. Helena reaches behind her head with both hands to slowly pull out the clips that are restraining her dark tresses, never breaking eye contact. Myka hisses out through her teeth as hair falls to Helena's shoulders, and it's heaven as she runs fingers through it and scrapes Helena's scalp gently to pull her back into a kiss. She feels Helena's fingers push into her own wild hair as thighs and legs hug her body tighter.
After a while she breaks the kiss despite protesting noises, then smiles into the skin of Helena's neck as her tongue turns protestations into pleas, and the hands in her hair exert a downward pressure. She licks her way down, to suck and mark the dips along Helena's collarbone, and when she licks at and scrapes teeth gently over a silk covered nipple, Helena moans from deep in her chest before she is reaching down frantically grasping at the edges of Myka's top. Myka helps her, peeling it off to reveal toned stomach and black cotton - they look at each other, and incongruously, they grin - before unclasping and dropping their bras to the floor. A heartbeat. Then they press together, wet open mouthed kisses, firm hands flat on backs, skin to skin. When Helena kisses along Myka's jaw, nips at her earlobe, pushes her hands up underneath her hairline to tickle her neck, Myka grabs at Helena's thighs and lifts. Helena grasps her bare shoulders, dips her mouth into the crook of Myka's neck, mumbling "oh god, your room...nearer..." Myka surprises herself, carrying Helena four steps to the hallway, the five steps to her room, the three steps from doorway to bed, then slowly shuffles Helena down and along it, before kneeling up, straddling Helena's legs.
She works at the buttons of Helena's jeans, as Helena grabs at Myka's waistband, lowering and pulling, eager to feel skin and tease the dampness below. Myka is drunk with desire, she wants to touch and be touched, and so she shifts forward and above to give Helena a better angle, while working her own hand into restricted space to rub down over moist silk panties. Helena's hips push up urgently, Helena's hand presses up and fingers dip and drag slowly along Myka who whimpers as Helena gasps. In response, Myka pulls her hand away only to dip back down, between silk and soft curls and she presses. They become frantic now, delirious, desperate to press, and rub and stroke. They arch into each other, pant into perspiring skin, kiss and suck bone and muscle. Before long they are climbing, straining, keening, as they push each other to the edge and over, undulating, shaking, rasping words they won't remember. Myka falls into Helena, their arms trapped between them, fingers resting, soaked and sated. She finds her head resting on the bed, mouth and nose pressed against Helena's coconut scented hair, and it's only now she realises there is an underlying dampness as if it had been drying following a shower. "I don't think I said good morning" she murmurs, and Helena says, "You are forgiven" then "where did that come from..."
Myka honestly doesn't know, she wasn't looking for this physical, primal encounter, certainly not last night when she stepped over the threshold. She was unnerved and irritated but then disarmed and relaxed by Helena, there is something about her that has made Myka lose control. She isn't sure if she likes that, but she definitely likes this. This close, sweaty afterglow, her arm now numbing, her face buried in hair, the feel of Helena's chest gently rumbling beneath her when she talks or quietly laughs as she is doing now "My arm...yours must be too..?"
So they separate themselves carefully, eliciting a deep sigh from Myka as she rolls onto her back. Turning her head to the side, she sees that Helena is gazing at her and so Myka feels her way between them, linking her hand with Helena's in an oddly intimate moment. Feeling her own stickiness on the fingers she realises she has appraised far too much, Myka thinks that this is the first time in eight months that she has been content. To feel this, to offer herself and to take, is overwhelming. Before she can stop it, she feels pinpricks behind her eyes. Before she turns away, Helena has noticed and she turns onto her side, fully facing Myka. The tips of her fingers touch Myka's chin and turn her head back to look in eyes that speak of understanding. "Don't" her voice is low.
"Don't what?" Myka's voice cracks.
"...feel guilty" Helena says, and she has read Myka like a book, because that is what she is feeling. She is stunned with this situation and this woman who now caresses her cheek with the back of a hand, and recognises the guilt pervading her senses - for feeling pleasure, for being with someone, and for being alive. Until. Helena stills, and moves to bring her face directly above Myka's. "Don't" she whispers and presses full lips against hers, pushes her tongue along, sucks Myka's bottom lip and bites down, then near the top of her breast bone chews and bites a mark that is at once sweet and stinging. She starts tugging Myka's pants down, and Myka feels her senses shifting, away from the sting in her eyes and towards the pain of marked skin and the tight feeling that is building in her stomach once more.
Helena uncovers her, sheds her own jeans and panties, then places her locket on the side table as Myka watches. Then she moves them both with deliberate slowness, kissing and caressing, until they are under the bed covers, entwined, thighs tight between legs, offering a new kind of friction. Myka can feel skin, heat, dampness, the sweet pain of Helena's rough kisses, the sweet ache of a thigh rocking against her. Thoughts of anything other than these things disappear, as Helena pushes her, teases her, dangles her for as long as she is able until there is nothing but fire spreading out towards the tips of her toes and fingers. When she suddenly drops her arched body, carrying Helena down with it, she hears a grunt of surprise, and a quiet laugh and sigh, "Strong". Myka is still recovering, manages a breathless reply, "I run, and this job can be quite physical", and Helena kisses her "Mmmm well, clearly..." she nods down between them and Myka feels herself blush. Really, blushing. After what they've just done.
They stay in bed most of the day, after Helena dashes out to grab a light lunch, returning with a tray and cold feet. They doze, they find a slower rhythm their bodies can handle, they lay in silence, but they don't talk. At least, not about anything significant. It's easy, playful, but the things Myka wants to ask, she doesn't. The simple reason being that to ask Helena about her her life away from this bubble would lead to questions about her own. By the time they are forced out of bed through hunger, it's barely 24hrs since they met at gunpoint, and now they have shared a bed and their bodies for a third of that time.
Day 3
The following day, Myka wakes with Helena spooned behind her, arms wrapped tightly around her body, a leg wedged between her own. There is light peeking through the blinds, and as she reaches to check the time, Helena grumbles "I was perfectly comfortable..."
"Sorry, habit" Myka whispers, "8am. How long have you been awake?"
"A few hours" Helena buries her head into Myka's hair, "Habit"
"I was wondering if spending most of yesterday in bed might have thrown our body clocks off"
"Mmmm, maybe if we'd spent it sleeping..." Helena's hands have started to wander, caressing Myka's abdomen, then tickling just below her breasts. Myka rolls over to face her, pushes strands of hair behind her ear, places a soft kiss on sleepy lips and wants to continue but some sense of duty nags at her "I should check outside..." Helena pouts, which makes Myka laugh, "Oh ok, is that some kind of secret weapon to keep me in bed?" When Helena smiles wickedly, Myka realises there is no point pretending, she is staying right where she is, and she uncharacteristically throws caution to the wind, pulling Helena close and into a less chaste morning embrace.
By midday, they are up, showered, and have eaten breakfast. Myka puts on her gear and boots and ventures out. It's tough going in the deep snow, but she clears the porch and the path around to the drive. She can see that both Helena's SUV and her own vehicle further down the track are covered in thick snow. They need digging out even though the road is still a no go. She makes the journey down to her truck, retrieves the portable charging unit for her radio and finds another snow shovel in the trunk. When she radios in, Paul is on duty again.
"Myka, how you doing up there?"
She smiles, "Fine thanks, I'm just assessing the state of the truck, but the road is solid"
"Yeah, good news is there's no additional snowfall expected, but there'll be cloud cover overnight and, get this - blue skies tomorrow" he says
"I’ll hold you to that. I'm going to dig the truck out, and hopefully in next day or so I can head off"
"Just keep checking in, I hope your host isn't too strange - they must be crazy or stupid staying up there now."
Myka colours, thinking about Helena in bed "She's been very welcoming, but you're right, this is no place for a vacation at this time of year."
Paul's outside viewpoint has her thinking, why is Helena there of all places, there are plenty more sensible locations to seek out isolation. Really, Myka knows nothing about her of consequence, but she tells herself that they have only just met. Right on cue, the woman herself appears up by the cabin yelling down, "Tomato soup ok?!" Myka gives her a thumbs up then finishes talking to Paul before heading back up to the cabin. Helena meets her at the edge of the cleared path and hands her a thermal mug "Any news?" she asks, sipping at her own soup. "I'd say a few days and the roads will be passable, if slow going" Myka eyes Helena's SUV, "How long had you planned to stay?"
Helena's face is covered by her scarf, but her eyes give off that impassive air she is so adept at, and before she can respond, Myka jumps in, fearing she sounds overbearing. "I just meant, if you needed to be elsewhere, you might struggle...I wasn't..."
Helena touches her arm "Myka, I've enough food for over a week, the snow is of little importance until then" then she leans in, pulling her scarf down, and kisses her cheek, "Aside from how long it can keep you from your duties, that is..."
Myka blushes, but she feels oddly foolish, so picks up the shovel, gestures back down the track, "Ok..well I'll just go dig out the...so it's done...I'll do yours afterwards." She turns, heads back down and proceeds to exert a lot of energy clearing the snow that has packed under and around and on top of her truck. It takes her over an hour and she aches, her hands are numb, but her mind has been a frenzy. This whole situation should be simple, her life was meant to be less complicated in this job. She wasn't meant to be stranded with someone who has permeated the barrier she's been building gradually over the months. She isn't meant to feel flirtatious, she isn't meant to want something so badly she loses self control, and she wasn't meant to feel a connection like this. Helena is a mystery, she's a closed book, and for Myka that is intriguing even though her natural curiosity and eye for detail feels dulled and out of practice. It’s partly why, in spite of herself she knows that when she returns to the cabin she will continue on this uncertain path, without knowing what is truly behind those mesmerising eyes. However long she is stranded, or however long Helena is staying, she wants this. She'd felt a fool earlier because she didn't want Helena to think she was prying or over eager. But then what else have they been but over eager, it has been exhilarating.
She's thinking about new ways to be eager with Helena as she makes her back, intending to force her body to shovel more snow from around the SUV. But - there is Helena making a valiant attempt with the other shovel. Lost in her task, Myka hadn't noticed she had remained outside, so she walks up and starts to dig in an area yet to be touched. Helena looks up, grimaces, and they continue in silence for another half hour before they meet in the middle. "Bloody hell, I can see why you are so fit!" Helena pants, "I am absolutely ravenous now..." Myka smiles widely, and drags Helena behind her and up to the warmth of the cabin, content that her own perceived awkwardness from earlier is forgotten. Stepping through the doorway is like blocking out the world, ignoring consequences. Leaving their gear to dry, she pulls Helena into a hot shower (“You can wait a little longer for food…? Good..”) and proceeds to calm her overactive mind with a keenness to physically please and be pleased. Helena has been quieter than usual all afternoon, but it makes her no less intense, if anything it is as if she is grasping at everything she can, while she can, and maybe that is ok by Myka. It doesn’t require thought, she knows this will end in days and she will not have to deal with consequences.
Day 4
It’s a waiting game now, but the wait is getting shorter. Soon, she will have to drag herself out of this bed for a final time and go back to reality. Right now, though, she is revelling in the warmth of overused sheets and the smell of sex mixed with coconut. Helena is resting her head on Myka’s stomach, as Myka smooths down her hair and plays with the fingers that loosely rest on her hip. “At this moment I would welcome another blizzard” Helena murmurs so quietly that Myka only just catches it, but she does, and it sounds like regret. She links their fingers now, and makes light, “I’m not sure I could endure having to dig the cars out again” she says, and Helena chuckles, “No, me neither.”
Myka’s mind drifts to the trailer outside, “You ride a motorcycle?” she asks.
“I do”
“Not much chance of using it in these parts…”
“No” Helena says, and Myka suspects this topic is a little close to their unspoken agreement not to dig too deeply. But then Helena surprises her, pulls herself up so her head is resting on the pillow “I enjoy it, on the open road it helps clear my head. Oh, and a bike is very nippy around a city” she winks and leans over, licks Mykas bottom lip, nibbles it. Myka tries to resist, “So have you always ridden?” she manages between kisses. “No, I took it up not long after settling in the U.S. It was a...” she hesitates, “...a friend who encouraged me.” Now, Helena doesn’t allow Myka to press further because she adjusts her position so that she is above her, hair falling over them both as she captures Myka’s hands and places them on the pillow above her head. “It’s a shame I don’t have my leathers packed…” she says with a smirk, “I’ve a feeling you might appreciate me in them.”
“Oh, I like you just fine out of them too” Myka’s mouth has gone dry at the thought, and allows herself to be distracted once more.
Later that afternoon as the sky darkens outside, they are sprawled on the couch, blanket over them and a low fire in the grate. That afternoon they have been out again, to clear the trail down to the road which looks less treacherous following a few bright days and a slight rise in temperature. Myka is fairly confident that either of their vehicles will cope with the roads by tomorrow. Right now she is reading but finds herself glancing up occasionally at Helena who is scribbling in a notebook. She thinks back to the night she stumbled into this situation and a sudden thought occurs “Would you have used it…if you needed to? The gun, I mean.”
Helena attempts a joke, “Of course darling...crack shot don’t you know”
Myka stays silent, and in doing so is asking the question again. Helena, quite archly, now says “If you are wondering whether I have shot anyone before, the answer is no” then a sigh, “...but I have fired a gun in anger.”
Myka wasn’t expecting even this, and now she wants to know what the circumstances were, but she bites her tongue and remains silent. “In my line of work, a little protection is often required” Helena offers, and Myka knows she was right - Helena can certainly handle herself and a confession slip out of her own mouth “Mine too”. When Helena looks at her quizzically, Myka wonders if she has visions of her trying to fend off a wild bear and she laughs softly, eliciting an even more puzzled expression.
Something about Helena’s relative openness is making Myka’s tongue loosen, or maybe she just thinks that if she shares, then Helena will too. “I’m a Ranger now, but I wasn’t always, and I won’t be in future.” As she says this, she feels Helena stiffen briefly before relaxing, though her eyes betray nothing. It was a tiny reaction, one most people would have missed, but it was there. “Ok” Helena says carefully, “So you are taking a break from something else?”
“I’m trying to break free of my dreams” Myka says without thinking, but Helena startles her by uttering a single word “Sam?”. Myka freezes, her eyes slam shut to fend off her emotions. "I’m sorry” Helena quickly says, dropping her notebook to the floor and reaching out a hand to touch Myka's thigh “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...your nightmare…”
“I said his name?” Myka whispers, and Helena nods. Myka opens her eyes, sits up straighter, deliberately breathes slowly and Helena shifts too, gives her some space. Myka glances at her and it’s the first time she has seen pure emotion on her face, she looks pained. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” she’s murmuring again, and Myka is suddenly not sure if Helena is speaking to her, because her hand has unconsciously reached for her locket.
“Helena” Myka pulls her so that she moves closer again.
“I was insensitive” her mood has darkened, and Myka has not seen this side of her so strongly before, she is admonishing herself. So Myka opens up, tries to explain. She talks about Sam for the first time in many months. “I loved him. I loved him and I blame myself for his death” she breathes out, coughs out a short nervous noise, and Helena takes hold of her hand tightly. It prompts Myka to look at her, and she sees...empathy...before Helena looks away, down. “I’ve not said that in a while..." Myka continues. "We were partners on a case, but it was so much more than we realised and by the time I found out, it was too late. I was too late."
She relays how they had been monitoring a protection racket, gathering evidence, identifying the main players. Then, one morning Sam had left her apartment after staying the night, on an errand he said. He had kissed her goodbye and forgotten the phone he'd left charging by the bed. They'd arranged to meet at their usual stakeout spot later that morning, but Myka received a call from their superior as she was leaving the apartment, Sam's phone in her pocket. The 'protection racket' had been identified as one of a number of funding operations for domestic terrorists, the FBI were taking over, she and Sam were to pull back from the case with immediate effect. She couldn't call him, so she'd driven with purpose and parked up a block down from the bakery where the operation was based. As she had approached, she’d seen him from afar, leaving the coffee shop opposite and had felt a moment of relief, a fleeting moment to commit to memory. Then she realised he was on high alert and heading straight across the road, reaching his hand in to where she knew his holster would be. She'd instinctively felt for her own weapon, started to jog as she saw that there was a commotion in the bakery. The world seemed to slow, the same words running through her head 'have you called for backup Sam, please wait for backup'. It hadn't mattered, back up or not, anyone close enough was caught in the blast that suddenly ripped through the building, Myka had fell behind a parked car, Sam had been too close and in the aftermath she'd found him half buried in rubble.
Should they have recognised the cell for what it was, should she have driven faster, should she have called a patrol, should she have shouted as she watched Sam move towards his death. She had blamed herself, and still does in darker moments. As her Captain and the police psychiatrist she met with pointed out - she couldn't have known that such a rare event was about to happen. Sam had disregarded protocol as was often his wont, he had arrived earlier than agreed so was alone, it was a tragic set of circumstances - wrong place wrong time. It hurt, she loved him, he had charmed her with his easy way and had made her feel comfortable in her own skin. He was not like her, he would often look beyond procedure and so they complimented each other’s style. Professionally, that had been his downfall, and for all Myka's own compulsion to stick to the rules, it had made no difference in the end.
"That was eight months ago. As you discovered, it haunts me" Myka says quietly, "I'm on secondment, I needed to get away from the city. No-one knew about our relationship, well, aside from the Captain it seems....Sam had been living apart from his wife for over a year when I met him, and then they were going through a divorce, you see..." she puffs out a huge sigh, then she shakes her head, “I don’t even know why I am telling you all this, you don’t need to know.” Helena is still for a long while before she speaks. "All of us carry guilt of some kind...no one is blameless...it's how we cope that marks us out...for good or bad."
"I dont feel like I've coped at all." Myka says.
"You knew to take yourself away, you are not a mess, Myka you are strong," she drops to a whisper "You are strong."
"I was at my lowest point when I came back here..."
Helena takes Myka's face in her warm hands, "You are strong."
Myka feels calmed by Helena's soft words of reassurance, and strangely relieved to have told someone else, someone removed from it all. Myka doesn’t know what or who Helena is, she can't call her a stranger, she doesn't know what to call her. She understands, Myka knows there is something that haunts her too, she has seen glimpses of grief and a capacity for fury and it makes her wonder how strong Helena was. Helena still holds her face, and she kisses her softly before dropping down on the couch, opening her arms for Myka to fall down into them.
"I should learn not to ask questions" Myka says into the bunched cotton of Helena's top "...it's a blessing and a curse."
Helena just kisses the top of her head, remains silent and holds her tight, and before long they have both drifted off to sleep.
When Myka wakes, it’s to the sound of the cabin door opening, then closing again a minute later, before Helena appears, wrapped up and carrying a sack of firewood. Myka watches her carefully place the wood in the metal box by the fireplace, “You’re awake” Helena says without turning. Myka sits up, now wrapped in a blanket “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”
“Only sometimes” Helena is looking at her now, face pink from the cold and when she smiles Myka feels herself sway. “I think I need drink” she says and Helena nods, then fetches her a glass of water. “A shower might do you good, or a bath?”
That idea is welcomed by Myka, who is disappointed when Helena doesn’t join her, but when she emerges from the bathroom there is a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen and there are two places set at the table in the centre. They eat, drink and chat about literature and about cultural differences, but still avoid deliberate questions about each other. A bottle of wine later they end up on the large armchair by the fire. They are fumbling at each other’s clothes, they are silent and intense. Then Myka is saying Helena’s name and Helena is saying Myka’s, and suddenly it feels beyond intimate as they push against each other and collapse, holding tight. That night they sleep in Myka’s bed again, they just sleep and Myka thinks this is different.
Day 5
Cold sheets. Her fingers clench into cold sheets, her lids are heavy but she forces them open to mid morning rays of light. It’s quiet. She stretches and wonders if Helena is making tea, or has gone to check the weather. She pulls herself out of bed, throws on the robe she’s been using and heads out of the bedroom. Helena is not in the lounge or kitchen, but Myka notices that only her own coat and boots are at the doorway. In fact, she doesn't see anything of Helena's. She feels her stomach clench as she moves to the side window, and when she looks out there is a clear view across to trees, because Helena's car and trailer are gone.
She walks back to where Helena's bedroom is. She realises that she has never actually been in this room, it crosses her mind that it's the only place they didn't have sex. So, when she pushes the door open she has no memory of what to expect, but she thinks she knows now. It is spotless, the bed is made, the wardrobe door is open and empty, there is a note folded on top of a set of drawers, a key lays on top.
Myka
The past few days have been truly intoxicating, but duty calls, and I fear that outside of this retreat you would see me in a very different light. I hope you find a reprieve from your dreams.
Helena
p.s. The key hides in the wood store.
Myka closes her eyes tightly, the rush of emotion she feels is shocking to her, she feels sick inside, she feels abandoned and she feels a fool. Later, she is driven by anger as she returns her own room to its original state, empties the fridge and leaves the cabin as it should be. She locks up and puts the key in its hiding place, before heading down to her truck. She radios base to tell them she is heading back to the nearest station, and when she clicks the radio silent she is left reeling by another piece of information. Paul had managed to contact the cabin owner that morning, Nielsen had no recollection of renting it out this week or any time over winter. Two Rangers had been about to head up there when Myka called in, and Paul chastised her for not having her radio on at all times. Myka sits there, gloved hands gripping the steering wheel, until she laughs a hollow laugh - so much for being one of the best detectives in her division, judgement had abandoned her in the presence of that face, those eyes, that hair, those hands and what they did to her. As she drives away, she tries not to think about the physical reaction she felt when she saw that note.
The next time Myka encounters Helena, it is under very different circumstances.
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