#Sally Stukowski | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beatricethecat2 · 7 years

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if/then (2.0) - 9

Me: Yay, it's summer, I can get more writing done! Also me: what's that word...it begins with a "c"...(looks up word, gets lost in internet, a half and hour later gives up and makes another Split Screen then goes to bed). This chapter is on the longer side, and throws Myka into some murky territory she's not equipped to deal with. It was difficult to get the tone right, and if I've succeeded, there's a push and pull going on that will amplify over the next few chapters. Putting this up now because I won't have a chance to later. Edited a bunch 10/27.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7,

Read first if you are new! gutted/sorted and wax/wane…if/then is a continuation of those two.

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First thing in the office, Myka learns Mrs. Frederic’s meeting one on one with every single employee, right down to the cleaners.

“It’s not right, boozing us up then grilling like that,” a coworker groans.

“Has she done this before?” Myka asks.

“Not in my five years here.”

“Huh,” Myka says, her stomach twisting at the thought of facing Mrs. Frederic alone.

The parade of anxious faces lining the hall amplifies her unease until the thought occurs to her she was meeting Mrs. Frederic anyway. She blames a lingering headache paired with achy muscles for the oversight, both leftovers from her adventures with Helena last night. A sly grin creeps across her lips as she flashes back to the hotel; they were certainly athletic, more so than ever before.

When she reaches her office, she downs more water and aspirin, thinking it best to keep her headache at bay. As she checks her messages, she’s relieved her meeting with Sally's been pushed until after her mid-afternoon one with Mrs. Fredric. Plenty of time to review her notes and for the drugs to kick in.

She breathes a deep breath and releases it slowly, then opens her laptop and begins sorting through urgent emails. As she pulls up some files, she winces as she shifts in her chair, then crosses her legs to silence a particularly sensitive spot. She tries focusing on email, but the tweak sends her mind back to last night's cab ride, and her thighs clench together at the memory.

They tumbled sloppily into the vehicle, Myka sinking back, Helena pitching forward, reciting the address to the driver. As Helena spoke, Myka had an idea. Emboldened by drink, she pulled herself up by grabbing Helena’s shoulder and suggested a change of plans.

"Let’s go to your place," she said, curious what she might find there.

“And waste that island of a bed? I think not,” Helena said and repeated her instructions to the driver, then thumped back into the seat as the cab drove away.

“We'll revisit that school girl fantasy of yours later,” Helena said, her mouth so close Myka’s ear, her breath sent a shiver down Myka's spine.

Helena planted kisses along the line of Myka's jaw until their lips met, her tongue pushing through to reach Myka’s. Myka reciprocated, readily, until the car dipped from rough road, a blunt reminder of where they were. She pushed Helena away, albeit weakly, and Helena craned forward ensuring their mouths stayed connected.

Helena's hands skimmed down Myka's thighs, mouth wandering down her neck, and when her fingers breached the hem of her skirt, Myka swatted her away. Helena grabbed hold of Myka's wrist, yanking her closer and pressed her lips on a pulse point. Myka's adrenaline soared, and everything around her fell away.

When the car came to an abrupt halt, Helena slid forward, nearly falling off the seat. Sirens blared past, and the cab driver swore, then took off so fast Helena slung back into the opposite corner.

“A-are you attracted to that woman at the bar? She was pretty,” Myka blurted, suddenly aware of her surroundings again, sobered by the siren, embarrassed to feel so aroused in public.

“No,” Helena said flatly, but her lips rose, forming a sly grin. “You're jealous.”

“I’m not,” Myka said, sounding unconvincing even to herself. She reached out to coax Helena back, but Helena leaned away, Myka fell back into her seat, defeated.

“You’re intoxicated.”

“I said I already had a few.”

Helena slid closer and took hold of Myka’s hand, guiding her nearer and laying her head on her shoulder. Myka laced their fingers together and snuggled into Helena's side, feeling safe and sound in Helena's arms.

As they sat in comfortable silence, the evening played in fast forward in Myka’s mind, until the word “marooned," with Shirley’s rolling “r” and drawn out “oo” caught in her head.

“Are you lonely here, with out us,” she says, squeezing Helena’s hand. It’s an obvious question, but she’s never asked it out loud.

“If I ever am, I think of you, and Christina, and our future together.” Helena tilted her head and rested it on top of Myka’s.

The word “future” caused Myka to tense, the weight of it incongruent with the fleeting moment, but the tenderness in Helena's voice made her heart race.

"Are you ever lonely?” Helena asked, turning Myka’s hand over, leaning forward, kissing her palm, angling her eyes up to meet Myka’s.

“I’m too busy,” Myka nearly joked, but instead lost herself in Helena’s eyes, so infinitely dark yet glowing from the street light. She blinked as a flash flitted over Helena's face, and her eyes flicked down to Helena’s lips. “So beautiful,” she said, kissing Helena in answer, pulling her back into the seat corner, putting the word “lonely" to rest.

----------------

As the host points in her direction, Helena waves and smiles. Myka raises a hand in greeting, but her lips flatten rather than curl up with reciprocal enthusiasm. She knows that smile well, and while it is genuine, it's hard to take at face value after the things she’s learned today.

She thanks the host for guiding her then navigates through a few tables and eventually reaches Helena in the corner. Helena kisses her on the cheek, then pulls out a chair. Myka studies her for a moment and decides to sit before launching into questions. No need to make a scene here and now.

Helena pushes in her chair and circles around, resuming her spot.

"Were you waiting long?” Myka asks.

"An excruciating ten minutes,” Helena says, flashing a grin so infectious, Myka cracks a small smile back.

The smile must read oddly, as Helena’s eyes narrow, so Myka says the first thing that pops into her head. “Sorry, long day,” she says, unsure of why she's apologizing because it’s Helena who needs to explain herself, throughly.

Helena slides her hands across the table and motions for Myka to do the same but Myka hesitates before giving them over. Helena takes hold and pulls them towards her, wrapping her fingers around and squeezing reassuringly.

"Thank you for all that you do,” Helena says, gazing directly into Myka eyes.

Myka looks deep into those familiar, dark eyes, searching for a hint of recognition of misdeeds, but sees nothing beyond earnest gratitude.

When the waitress arrives and lists the specials, Myka withdraws her hands.

"Can I start anyone off with a drink?"

“Perhaps something less vinous this evening?" Helena says and smirks at Myka.

Myka chuckles once but doesn’t smile back.

“Water's fine for the moment," Helena says.

The waitress says she’ll give them time to peruse their options and takes her leave.

“I’m starving. I thought we might order a starter before the mains," Helena says, picking up her menu.

Myka looks down at her copy, but the words fall out of focus, and she realizes she needs to say what she’s waiting to say.

"Were you at the office today?”

"Was I where?" Helena says, eyes staying on the menu.

"Sally said she saw you. In the office. Today."

“Sally?"

“Sally. The woman I'm working with on the Italian account." Myka’s lips downturn, disappointed, but not surprised, that Helena's playing dumb.

“Yes, of course,” Helena says, eyes flicking up as if just clueing into the conversation.

"She said she'd seen you there a couple of times since my last trip."

“She’s hardly the most reliable source."

“She isn’t, but there were other things,” Myka says, pausing while formulating her next phrase, “things she had proof were true."

The waitress returns to take their order and Helena points to an appetizer then politely asks for a few moments to decide. She sits up straighter in her chair and laces her fingers together on the table, then gives Myka her full attention.

“Continue."

“Do you remember a Terry Stukowski? "

“The name isn’t familiar."

“He's Sally’s brother. He used to work for Mrs. Frederic and was a buyer at a sale you were brokering."

“I've brokered many sales."

“Something you did got him fired."

"I doubt I alone was responsible. There are risks involved with every sale of a high caliber."

“High caliber,” Myka repeats, hands clenching as she leans forward. "Then you do remember."

Myka glares, but Helena remains stony-eyed. Myka throws up her hands and sits back in her seat.

"Alright,” Helena says. “I was in the office today. And on previous occasions."

"Why didn’t you say?”

"I’m not to mention it. To anyone. Nor am I meant to be seen."

“I’m not just anyone.”

“Neither am I, yet you’ve insisted your sale be kept private.”

“Yeah, well,” Myka says, averting her eyes. “You could have told me you met with her, anyway.”

“Why is this an issue? I thought you trusted Mrs. Frederic?”

“Sally thinks Mrs. Frederic's hiding something, and someone’s found out. That’s why she met with everyone today.”

“Hiding what?”

“She didn’t say.”

Helena sits back, crossing her arms over her chest, and Myka feels the wall grow between them.

“Why exactly are you buying into Sally's worldview? She’s not been particularly kind to you.”

Helena's point is valid, but Sally’s theory ties into Theodora’s assertion that Mrs. Frederic’s intentions are always honorable, but often walk a thin line.

"She thought I knew what happened with you and her brother and that I was being a 'snotty bitch.' When I told her I didn’t know—"

“She tried to turn you against me,” Helena interrupts, leaning forward, laying her hands on the table.

“She didn’t frame you in a favorable light,” Myka says, lightening her tone.

“Last night, the light was favorable,” Helena says, inching her hand across the table towards Myka.

“Last night I was drunk.”

Helena pulls her hand back, and Myka reaches, but misses it.

"I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We wouldn’t be here were completely honorable,” Helena says and leans out of Myka’s reach.

Myka sinks into her chair but holds Helena’s gaze, now hardened to the point of impenetrability.

“This isn’t about my role in Sally’s brother’s dismissal nor my meetings with Mrs. Frederic. There's something else, something…personal.”

"Did Mrs. Frederic put you on the private sale?” Myka asks, without skipping a beat. This is what she really wants to know but had to work up to it. "Sally said—"

"I’m going to throttle this Sally,” Helena growls, teeth clenching, hands gripping the edge of the table as she lifts slightly from her chair.

Myka flinches but pushes forward. "Have you known the whole time what the sale was for?"

“I’m certain you’d be aware if I did. Why is this even a question?”

"Sally said Mrs. Frederic was dangling a carrot in front of you to harness ‘Emily’s’ talents.”

Helena collapses back in her chair, her expression going slack. “What on earth are you talking about?"

“The sale. She said she’d given you the sale.”

“It’s your sale."

“Not anymore. She took me off."

“What? Why?"

"I don’t know. Do you?"

Myka meant it earnestly, but the look on Helena’s face shows she’s taken it otherwise.

“Do you honestly believe I'd involve myself with any of that after all I’ve been through?”

“I—“

“Do you trust me so little—”

“Helena—“

“—that you're compelled to trust Sally more?"

“N-No,” Myka says, shaking her head. “B-but I think it’s something Mrs. Frederic might do."

When Helena's glare doesn’t soften, Myka changes course.

“I was angry Sally knew things about you I didn’t, that there are so many things I don’t know about you. Like that woman, at the bar last night, or your friend Wooly. Wooly and…"

“Miranda."

“Yeah. Who are they exactly?"

“Ghosts,” Helena says and looks off to the side.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?"

“Shut me out. You’ll talk hours about a vase your mom sold at her stall or the delicate texture of your croissant from breakfast, but everything in between’s a mystery."

“That’s not true—"

“I’ve learned more from Claudia than from you. And sometimes I think she’s making stuff up.”

“She may very well be,” Helena mumbles and slumps back in her chair.

Myka stares at Helena, heart racing, annoyed Helena's deflecting yet again.

“Any thoughts on entrees, ladies?” their server asks while slipping their starter onto the table.

Myka looks over as if broken from a trance.

“I apologize,” Helena says. “We’re unsure as of yet. Could we have another few minutes?”

“Of course,” the server says, adding an understanding nod.

Helena waits until the waitress is at a safe distance then again reaches across the table in askance of Myka’s hand. Myka doesn’t take it, but Helena leaves it there.

"You must be devastated to have been taken off the sale. "

“You warned me. I didn't listen."

“The Italians are stable clients. Their business could set you up for life. These high-profile fly-by-night affairs never lead to such payoff.”

Helena may be right, but Myka doesn’t understand how all that work could lead to no pay off at all. "Do you know why she took me off the sale?"

“I would say, were I to have the slightest clue,” Helena says. "Mrs. Frederic summons me to discuss Macpherson and his appeal, nothing more. She’s genuinely rattled by whatever’s going on. I'm sworn to silence.”

Helena inches her hand forward, and Myka takes hold.

"I’m helping her to help us. It’s in all our best interests she succeeds."

Helena laces her fingers through Myka’s and places her other hand on top.

“You're not at fault. For any of this. It’s the business that twists you about and pits you against your allies."

Myka looks down at their hands because she can't look at Helena, ashamed to have accused her of foul play. It was her need to place blame that led her to believe Sally’s accusations, coupled with Theodora's words about Mrs. Frederic only pushing those with true talent. Helena’s only doing what's needed to keep them all afloat.

“Will you tell me, someday, about Wooly and Miranda?” she asks, trying to salvage what's left of the conversation.

“When time is less precious, I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know,” Helena says, the small smile taking shape on her lips shining like the sun after a storm. “I think we should order, lest we become more ‘hangry,’” She motions for the waitress. “I’d like to retire at a decent hour this evening, as we've an early morning at the airport.”

Myka looks at the menu but still can't focus and tells Helena to order first. Helena does as instructed, ordering for herself then glancing at Myka for approval as she orders for her, too.

“About that,” Myka says, as the waitress walks away. "I can’t go. I have to meet with Mrs. Frederic." She places her hands on her lap then clasps them together.

“But you already have."

“Only for ten minutes. She wants to go over my notes and talk about my trip."

“There’s little urgency now. She should be willing to meet later, or another day."

“She’s flying out tomorrow afternoon."

“That...woman,” Helena snarls, nostrils flaring, “acting as if we’re all at her beck and call.”

“We are,” Myka says. ”At least I am."

"Christina will be gutted if you’re not there."

“She sees me every day. It’s you she misses."

“But I’d rather we met her together."

“I know,” Myka says, looking down to avoid Helena’s stern gaze. "If I could get out of this I would. I’ll be back by lunch."

Helena raises a skeptical brow and motions again to the waitress.

“Perhaps we could do with some wine after all."

-------------

Myka waves her key card over the sensor and carefully turns the knob, unsure of the situation she’s walking into. When lunch came and went without her presence, Helena sent a terse message to meet at the hotel, and Myka intuited her mood had not improved since she left.

Helena had said it was Mrs. Frederic she was angry with, not her, but their spat before the airport left her heavy-hearted, and that guilt stuck with her all morning. Then, during her meeting, when she asked Mrs. Frederic why she was taken off the sale, her morale sank to a new low. “Complications arose,” Mrs. Frederic said, matter-of-factly, then, “concentrate on the Italians,” and “keep an eye on Sally,” before swiftly moving on.

As she enters their suite, she takes pains to pull the door closed quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence ringing throughout the room. As she walks farther in, she's blocked after a few paces by a suitcase spilling out onto the rug. Coats cover chairs and shoes lie scattered by the bed and second suitcase, Christina’s by the look of it, has spewed its contents all over the couch.

The owners of said bags, plus Helena, lie sprawled across the bed, napping, Claudia face down on the far end, Christina draped over Helena’s torso nearer the middle. The domesticity of the scene gives her pause as the acts she and Helena performed only a days ago were so very adult, it seems inappropriate for a little girl and her aunt to be innocently lying there. Things they’d never do if Christina were in the next room. Things that cause a twinge in her muscles even now.

That night, Helena said her truly letting loose was a huge turn on, but was she really letting loose? Or was the alcohol to blame? And did jealousy play a part? In hindsight, her actions seem more possessive than intimate gestures. Her fingers dug so deep they left bruises on Helena’s back, and her teeth left a sizable mark on her shoulder. And though Helena said she didn’t mind, she never, ever, wants pain to remind Helena of her, so maybe the constant buffer of a child is good thing—

“Is everything alright?”

Myka blinks herself present and then focuses on Helena, flinching slightly at the scrutiny in her eyes.

“I'm fine," she says, her throat tightening as she holds Helena’s gaze, recognizing just a hint of distance in her eyes. This week's been an anomaly, she knows, but being the singular object of Helena's affection has left her closer to Helena than ever before. Helena will never be entirely hers, but this hotel room felt like home; their home, together, without the stresses of a child. Closer to “normal,” than she’s felt in a long while, or rather “normal” before the fire.

"Are you certain?” Helena asks.

“Busy morning,” Myka says, scared to linger on what “normal” really means now, for fear it’s not what’s presented in front of her. "How is..." She nods at Christina and forcibly shakes off her negative thoughts.

“Knackered. Slept little on the plane. They made it through lunch then passed out."

Myka looks at Claudia then at Christina, and cracks a weak smile, picturing the commotion they'll make when they wake.

"Claudia's room wasn't ready as of yet, so she’s set up here for now,” Helena says, apology evident in her tone.

Myka understands why this is true, as it’s still early for check in, but can't help thinking it’s illustrative of a larger theme. Her world is eternally in flux; one piece is pinned down, then another loosens, consistently ruining the linearity of her expectations. Like this fantasy that her sale would go through seamlessly, that their happily ever after would be secured without a hitch. Now everything's reset to the beginning, and she hasn’t a clue how to get them there by Christmas.

“Come, join us,” Helena says, smiling and extending a hand.

Myka's stomach tightens as she holds Helena’s gaze, unsure she can make that leap just yet. Helena’s smile withers as her arm slowly lowers, and the way her eyebrows squish together asks questions Myka’s not willing to voice.

“I-I’ll just get changed first,” Myka replies. Shedding her work clothes might shed her expectations, and then she can fall back into old patterns.

“Mom?” Christina mumbles, blinking awake as she lifts her head.

“Myka’s here,” Helena says and combs her fingers through Christina's hair.

“Myka!” Christina says, her head swinging up, eyes searching then locking onto Myka’s.

The elation in Christina's eyes hits Myka like a bullet, and her heart swells with affection in response. Yet she stands frozen at a distance, unable to trust nor act upon her feelings confidently.

“If you settle down, Myka will join us,” Helena says, raising her brows at Myka.

Christina’s body stretches taut as she reaches toward Myka, fingers waggling as if grabbing for her shirt. Helena's arm pins Christina down, and Christina struggles then goes limp, giving in to her mother’s grip, eyes staying focused on Myka.

Myka blinks back a tear and gives in as the love from this child pulls her towards the bed. She feels Helena's eyes upon her as she removes her coat, draping it safely over the couch then walks, as steady as she can, over to the bed. She sits on the edge and bends her leg at the knee, hands shaking as she slips off a shoe. She removes the second, then closes her eyes and sits quietly, head bent, hands folded on her lap.

What if this limbo they're in is her fault, that Helena and Christina would be fine if she weren't part of the equation? Christina would have come over with Helena and Helena would have found a better job, and she’d be the one visiting. Helena could have made a clean start and become whomever she wanted if she wasn't being dragged through her past by Mrs. Frederic—

“Why are you crying?” Christina asks as she wriggles from Helena's grip, clambering across the bed and hugging Myka’s side.

“Because I'm…” Myka wipes a tear from her cheek and clears her nose. “I’m so happy to see you and your mom together.”

“We’re happy you're here with us,” Helena says, coming up on the other side, wrapping her arms around both her and Christina.

Myka's breath hitches as she tries to control her tears but they continue to stream silently down her cheeks. Helena whispers “shhh” into her ear and guides everyone down onto the bed.

Myka lifts her legs and lies back, the urge to resist having left her entirely. Christina maneuvers so she’s sprawled across both women’s laps but makes sure she’s still hugging Myka.

“You must think I’m crazy,” Myka says, as her tears begin to lessen.

“No. Driven,” Helena says, softly, and kisses Myka on the cheek.

“Is there a difference?”

“Chief, what’s up?” Claudia mumbles, head lifting and turning in Helena’s direction.

“Myka's here."

"Bitchin'," Claudia says, head dropping back down.

"Why do you call her ‘chief’ sometimes?" Myka asks, feeling desperate for a change of subject.

“Engineer,” Claudia says. "Funny story. We had this crazy project and HG—"

“A story best left for a rainy day,” Helena interrupts and wipes the remnants of a tear from Myka’s face.

“Killjoy,” Claudia mutters.

Christina crawls off of Myka, over Helena, and on top of Claudia. Claudia groans.

"I want ice cream,” Christina says.

"Oh yeah?” Claudia replies. “Then you gotta pay the toll."

Claudia maneuvers so she's sitting up, and Christina latches onto her back then giggles as Claudia tries to swat her off. The giggles intensify when Claudia slides off the bed with Christina hanging on.

Helena smiles with delight as she watches them lumber around the room, then turns to face Myka when they disappear into the bathroom.

"You rest while we search for ice cream. We'll bring you lunch as well. I'm assuming you haven't eaten."

Myka smiles a sheepishly and looks down.

"Let us care for you. You've had a brutal week."

Claudia and Christina fly by, then Claudia drops Christina onto the couch and initiates a hearty tickling match. Christina fights back and eventually struggles free then runs and jumps onto to the bed. Claudia creeps towards her, back hunched, hands extended like claws and Christina climbs over Myka to hide behind Helena.

“Mom, save me!”

“Claudia, you thug.”

“She started it,” Claudia says.

Helena turns towards Christina and narrows her eyes.

“Aunt Claudia started it!” Christina blurts.

“Did she, really?” Helena says, poking Christina gently in the ribs.

“Mom!” Christina cries and winces away.

“I also require further payment before ice cream may be consumed.” Helena lunges forward as Christina slips off the bed, catching then tickling her with abandon.

Myka smiles as Christina's giggle turns into to a full belly laugh, the sound rattling her insides so profoundly her dark thoughts fall away. She looks up at Claudia and Claudia grins back, and the familiar warmth of the exchange calms her nerves.

As the laughing subsides, Myka glances back at Christina and sees her curled up in a ball, grinning wildly, enveloped in Helena's arms. She rolls over and joins in the hug.

“I’ll come with you," she says. “I want ice cream, too.”

-TBC-

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fanfiction #au week #if/then (2.0)#I'm excited for everything coming up #as it pulls the whole series together #in a way I hadn't imagined #but now I have to move my GF's studio #into our apartment #several car loads worth #and thankfully it's not a million degrees out today

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beatricethecat2 · 7 years

Text

if/then - 7

I've been fussing over the mechanics of the next few chapters for a while now, figuring out when and where to drop clues, as some pushback will happen in the upcoming arc. I apologize for the lack of Helena in this chapter, but she'll reappear, fully formed, in chapter 8. Also, I admit I know nothing about Italian, so I hope the little I've dotted into this isn't horribly wrong. This is still clunky, but I'd rather put it out and move forward than get stuck on form. (editied 8/18).

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

Read first if you are new! gutted/sorted and wax/wane…if/then is a continuation of those two.

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“Nothing so far is even remotely what Mrs. Frederic’s looking for.”

Myka’s annoyed, both at the man sitting in front of her and her clusterfuck of a morning, which began the minute she stepped foot in Italy.

“Scusa?” the man says as his overly smiley face droops beyond that of a practiced salesman.

“This is what I’m here to see.” Myka sets down her expresso then taps her tablet awake and slides the device across the table.

Myka stretches her neck as the man flicks through inventory then rubs the bridge of her nose in hopes of minimizing the headache she’s had since landing. Clearly, her lack of sleep is catching up with her, yet she doesn’t regret that promises of “later” were fulfilled, rather pleasantly, once her application was complete. Hence she downs the rest of her coffee and considers ordering another; if she has to wait while this guy compares their notes, she might as well be over-caffeinated.

She curses herself for believing him when he'd insisted everything was in order as she sees him now for what he is: a kid. His baby face hides under his short, sharp beard and his spotted bow tie and pocket square try a little too hard to be professional. He’s probably an intern recently promoted to sales, the only one free to meet her at such short notice.

She feels genuinely bad for Floriana, the woman she was meant to meet, as this morning her son was hit by a motorcycle on his way to school. He’s ok, they’ve learned recently, no broken bones or anything, but the painful reality of a child being hurt must be overwhelming. If that had been Christina—her heart races at the thought—Helena would be inconsolable; she’d hop on a plane and sneak into the country just to be by her side.

As she sips her empty expresso, she considers the fact she’s never worried over a child like that and imagines Helena’s day to day worry must be tenfold. She kind of checked out when she got to London, allowing work and Helena to envelop her; she assumed Christina’d be fine since responsible adults were there to care for her. She should really check in unprompted and send some photos, tonight from the hotel...

“Signora Bering,” the man says, “this is not what Signora Stukowski has given me.” He points to her tablet and hands over his.

As Myka flips through inventory, her nostrils flare: wrong period, wrong category, wrong everything. “When did you get this?”

“Questa mattina. You were in the air.” He points his eyes upward.

Myka breathes in a deep, cleansing breath and closes her eyes, telling herself to stay calm. Of course, Sally sent the wrong files, because if Sally could, she would. It’s happened before, and it's happening again. In fact, she’s beginning to think she does it on purpose just to trip her up. But this time around it doesn't make any sense. Sally needs this client to stay on Mrs. Frederic’s good side; Myka has the advantage of the private sale.

But it is possible Mrs. Frederic changed the roster last minute, while she was in the air. And while she’s checked her messages a million times, Sally's not the most communicative; she could have easily sent the files assuming Myka was already in the loop.

“Let me call Sally,” Myka says, whipping out her phone and scrolling through to her number. When the line goes straight to voicemail, she tries the front desk and learns the entire staff's in an impromptu meeting with Mrs. Frederic. No one's sure when it will end.

“Fortuna?” the man asks as Myka sets her phone on the table.

“No,” Myka says, shaking her head. She looks down at his tablet and flicks through a few pages. “Could we continue with these and see my list later?”

As he flips through Myka's images, the man's cheeks puff out comically as he slowly blows out a breath.

“I'll try Sally again later.”

“Si,” he says, nodding his head slowly as he stares at the device. “We can do."

“Grazie,” Myka says, with genuine apology: it’s not his fault they’ll be working overtime. “Let me buy you another coffee. And some lunch,” she adds, eyes wandering behind him, towards the counter.

The man looks over his shoulder and smiles at the menu on the wall. “Si, si, manga,” he says, “Let us ‘regroup,' Signora Bering.”

“Myka,” she says. “Call me, Myka."

------------------

As she stretches to her full-length on the bed, her muscles groan in relief, their release from gravity long overdue. She and Maritzo managed to view everything on both lists but didn’t finish until well after dinner. In the end, she's glad he was her guide and knows she's lucky he was young was eager to please.

Sally, when reached, confirmed Myka’s list was correct, but there was little apology in her apology over the confusion. If she had the energy, she’d have been angry, but she knew it wasn't worth her time. If this private sale works out, she most likely won’t be working with Sally any longer. In fact, Mrs. Frederic emailed her today, asking, tentatively, if she’d represent the gallery in the pre-sale showing, details to be discussed upon her arrival back in London.

The thought occurs to her she needs to go over her newest “anonymous source” email but admits to herself she’s wiped; it will have to wait until morning. She peels herself off the bed and showers, then texts Helena good night and is out like a light before Helena has a chance to respond.

-------------

Though they’ve met once before and emailed frequently, Myka's nerves surge as she enters Theodora’s gallery, as she’s learned Theodora’s not your average widowed retiree. Her anonymous source clued her into some history: back in the day, Theodora and her husband rubbed elbows with both Mrs. Frederic and James Macpherson, chasing down impossible finds like the one she’s been researching.

Theodora's space is intimate and classically European, boasting elaborate white moldings and intricate parquet floors. The front room is filled with contemporary sculpture she recognizes from Vanessa’s roster, while the back holds unique curated treasures. As she passes through to the office, she walks up to a lectern where an illuminated manuscript sits. It’s in pristine condition, which is unusual for its age, and she wonders where a self-proclaimed “humble gallerist” might stumble upon such a rare find.

She’s put at ease by Theodora’s warm welcome, and when their business is tied up sooner the expected, Theodora insists she stay for lunch. Myka’s flight isn’t until three, so gladly accepts and truthfully, she’d like to get to know Theodora better.

After a short walk down a picturesque cobblestone street, she's soon sipping wine in a charming outdoor cafe, listening intently as Theodora waxes poetic about the old days when she was partnered with Mrs. Frederic.

“What was she like back then?” Myka asks.

“The same as she is now,” Theodora answers and motions to the waiter for more wine. “Always pushing the envelope."

“I’ve only met her once. In her office. It was pretty formal.”

“I’ll tell you this: her intentions are always above board, but not everything goes to plan.” Theodora swirls the wine in her glass, studying it as it spins, then tilts her head back, downing the last swig.

“She likes you,” she says, pointing her newly empty glass at Myka.

“She does?”

“She wouldn’t have sent you here otherwise. And I’m sure she already has you working on something special.”

The waiter returns with a fresh bottle of wine and fills both glasses. Myka watches the liquid pour with reservations, already feeling tipsy.

“I think I even know what she’s got you on if the rumors are true. Henry and I chased it years ago, but never found hard proof it existed."

Myka opens her mouth to answer but hesitates; as a confidante of Mrs. Frederic, she should be able to tell Theodora what she’s researching, but it could be a test, to see what it would take to loosen her tongue.

“Oh, it’s hush-hush, I know, no need to fret. It’s just…”

Theodora stares at Myka as if sizing her up. Myka wonders if she wants to hear what she has to say.

“I seem to recall you have a daughter.”

“I, uh...." Not where Myka thought this conversation was going, but it's interesting she remembers her mentioning Christina. "Christina’s Helena’s daughter, not mine. Helena's my…girlfriend." Partner is the correct word here, and she knows it, but if Theodora knows what the private sale is for, she may very well know of Helena’s connection to Macpherson. It might be best to stay a step back until she learns where Theodora is going with this.

“Ah, yes. Now I remember,” Theodora says, siping her wine. “She’s in London because of a visa ’situation.' She and her daughter are why you’re doing all of this. Correct?”

Myka slides her hands off the table and clasps them together on her lap. How much does Theodora know beyond what she’s told her? Maybe she needs to be careful with what she says.

“Um...yeah.”

“Remember that, as you make decisions moving forward.”

“Remember what?”

“Your motivations.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

That very moment, their food arrives. Theodora thanks the waiter then turns her attentions back to Myka.

“Do you love her?” she says, pointing her fork at Myka before tucking into her meal.

“More than anything.”

“And her daughter?”

“Of course.”

“Then remember, the most important thing in life to nurture is family. Family's what’s left when everything else falls flat.”

“Why would everything fall flat?” If Theodora knows something about this sale or Helena that she doesn’t, she wants to know.

Theodora sets down her fork and straightens her posture, then dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Henry and I did what you’re doing for a lot of years. When we had our kids, it complicated things. We both wanted them, but neither of us was ready to settle down. So we compromised by taking turns, one of us staying with the kids while the other was in the field.”

Does she think Helena’s still working? She must know that’s impossible after the trial. “Do you regret not settling down?”

“I regret not spending more time with the kids and Henry together. Especially when they were little.”

Myka looks on, still confused.

“How old is Helena's Christina?"

“Eight. Eight and a half if you ask her in person.” Myka smiles at the memory of the day Christina told her about her birthday. They were filling out the calendar with Helena’s schedule, but the calendar only went through December, so she wrote out the months following on the last page.

“I know you’re just starting out, and you're excited about your projects, but let me give you a piece of advice. When you’re with Helena and Christina, try to live in the moment, take stock of what you have. It seems silly at your age; you always think they’ll be time later, then suddenly, there’s no time at all.”

Theodora’s gaze drifts off into the distance, and her eyes glass over. Myka reaches across the table and places her hand on top of Theodora’s.

“A-Are you ok?"

“I'm fine," Theodora says, with a small sniff. “When the melancholy kicks in, I tend to babble; another reason why I keep to myself these days.”

“You miss him.”

“Most days.”

Henry must linger in Theodora's memories like Helena's family does in hers.

“Thank you, for the advice. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll all be fine. I forget times have changed, with technology and all.”

Theodora slides her hand from underneath Myka’s and places it on top, then squeezes it slightly. Myka smiles at the gesture.

“I'll tell you, Irene only pushes those she deems worthy, but she’ll push until they break. Make sure you push back before that happens."

“I will,” Myka says, nodding as she slides her hand back across the table. She fingers the stem of her glass and takes a generous sip, wishing she felt more flattered than worried by Theodora’s words.

--------------

Her concentration’s a bust on the plane back to London; emails left unanswered as Theodora’s words swirl through her head.

Her warnings were overkill, weren’t they? As she said, she's just starting out, trying to fix what’s broken. If she looks at things logically, Helena rescued her in her time of need, and she’s returning the favor, though the stakes are higher now since they’re together. But four or five months of rocky coupledom does not add up to a family, per se, not in the sense Theodora was describing.

In fact, the word “family” leaves a sour taste in her mouth; she'd turned her nose up at the notion with Sam; having more important things to accomplish before settling down. She's aware the word is a trigger as babies and marriage were always Tracy’s domain; she’d roll her eyes when Tracy incessantly talked about both when they were teenagers. But as the oldest, she’d been expected to tie the knot first, expected to produce; luckily that bullet was dodged by Tracy taking the lead, lessening the pressure on her.

But “family” is the best word to describe Helena, Christina, and Claudia, and when applied to them it warms her heart. She’s proud to have joined them along their journey. She smiles at the memory of Christina’s drawing, scribbled in crayon, still hanging on the fridge, depicting her holding hands with Helena. Even at that early stage, she was welcomed with open arms into their fold.

And while she trails behind Claudia in the responsibility department, that dynamic will change when she, Helena and Christina live together. Once their situation stabilizes, everyone’s roles will shift towards the traditional. Is she really ready for that? She's not sure.

She’s been so focused on getting to London she hasn’t thought much about what happens after. Theodora must have seen glimmers of her own lack of vision in Myka, of starting a family but never fully embracing change. She should heed her advice and learn work with it, not fight against it. Easier said than done, but she vows to take Theodora’s words to heart.

--------------

After a quick stop to freshen up, Myka speeds off to her work mixer, coincidentally located at the same restaurant Helena had scrambled to get reservations earlier. This seemed odd to her, out of all the restaurants in London, but Helena assured her it was a popular choice with the “in" crowd.

The table is packed when she arrives, with a mass cheer rising as she approaches; it’s clear everyone’s been letting loose. When all eyes move behind her then forward to meet her own, she’s hit with a wave of awkwardness. Helena's expected to have tagged along tonight, but she's clearly not present.

She apologizes for Helena’s absence, explaining she didn’t know until she stepped off the plane Helena had to work last minute. Everyone’s been eager to meet her "black sheep” girlfriend since the day Helena met Mrs. Frederic and emerged unscathed. In fact, Helena’s reputation has even tinged Myka with an air of mystique around the office, which she thinks is quite amusing.

A coworker motions for her to sit next to them, saying they’ve saved her a seat and she does as instructed. Her heart sinks at the sight of Helena’s empty spot next to her; disappointed Helena chose to work over her. She knows sacrifices must be made to keep the weekend free for Christina and Claudia, but she was really looking forward to introducing Helena to the group, both to put an end to the rumors and to show Helena off.

Wine flows freely during every course of the meal, and as the table fills with stories and laughter, she leans back and takes stock, recognizing a lightness in her chest she hasn’t felt for ages. She’s having a really good time with these people, an even mix of folks older and younger than her, and is pleased the discussion stays on topics unrelated to kids and school. The evening feels like coworker gatherings in Chicago and Seattle, and it’s reaffirming to be reminded of who she was all those years ago on her own.

As the woman sitting next to her checks her phone, Myka stiffens as she asks the time. Helena begged her to meet for a nightcap at the bar to make up for missing dinner and Myka reluctantly agreed, but at this rate, it will close before she gets there.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she says, rising so abruptly her chair nearly topples backward. “I’ll see everyone tomorrow."

-TBC-

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fanfiction #if/then #AU Week #Sometimes when you have too much on your plate #you have to 'relax' by doing other things #things that are still work #but work you are doing for yourself #so you stay up too late #to knock out a chapter of fanfiction #(for the 2 people still reading #hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner rather than later #it actually already written in full #but needs shaping)

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