DISCLAIMER: The characters herein are used without permission. No infringement intended.
SPOILERS: Assumes some events of season 2 and season 3.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To chava3040[at]gmail.com
Watchman, What of the Night?
By winter156
Chapter 4
Noticing that Helena had nodded off, Leena entered Myka's room quietly and closed the door softly behind her. She placed the tray on the nightstand and went to go cover the exhausted woman with a blanket. Helena had been keeping a constant vigil over Myka since their return from Egypt without taking a moment to rest. Leena and Claudia had tried, to no avail, to get the stubborn woman to take a few hours and rest herself. Sighing in consternation as Helena roused, Leena laid the blanket back down at the foot of the bed, retraced her steps, picked up the tray and brought it closer to the other woman. "I'm sorry I woke you," at Helena's dismissive nod, Leena let the matter drop. "I thought you might like some tea."
Accepting the offered cup of tea, Helena took a tentative sip before sighing in contentment as the hot liquid warmed her from the inside out. "Thank you, Leena," the inventor said with genuine warmth at the Bed and Breakfast owner's care and concern. "I have known only one other person who could make such a fine cup of tea," Helena offered by way of opening conversation. She wanted to ask Leena some questions but she did not know how to do so without seeming tactless.
After a moment's study of the woman across from her, Leena smiled, her eyes twinkling, "Helena, you can just ask me whatever it is that you've been meaning to ask." A single eyebrow raised posed a silent question to the still smiling woman. "When you're tired and worried, it becomes much easier to read your intent." At that, Helena's other eyebrow rose and gave her a slightly shocked expression. Chuckling, Leena filled her own cup with tea. "Don't look so shocked Helena. I do live with a former NSA operative, two Secret Service agents, a teenager, and on occasion Mrs. Fredric," she smiled as she sipped her tea, "I have learned a thing or two about reading people."
"Indeed," came the instant response.
At Helena's skeptical look, she expounded, "Though being able to see beyond the physical does help." Becoming serious, Leena looked Helena in the eye, "I must admit that when you are tired and worried you become much easier to read in that regard as well. You have an uncanny ability to hide from me, Helena. I do not know for what reason you ever honed that particular ability, but I can't often see the details of what you're feeling. I only ever see the things you project like a shield. Why do you hide?"
Averting her gaze, Helena made her feelings known about the subject without uttering a word. Leena did not need to be able to see Helena's aura to know that the inventor did not want to broach that particular subject. Putting her cup of tea aside, Leena backed off the subject, "So what is it you wanted to know Helena?"
Putting her own cup of tea aside, Helena gestured toward Myka, "Pete says she is in something like suspended animation. Which, as I understand it, means to be physically alive but not completely present with us in mind. What do you see? I cannot explain it but I almost feel like she is missing a vital part of herself."
Looking at the woman lying on the bed, Leena inspected Myka who was ashen and motionless. She looked like a porcelain doll, lifelike but lacking the soul to make the marionette a living creature.
Leena saw an empty spot in the middle of Myka's chest where a soul should be. What surprised Leena when she first saw it was not the missing soul, but the evident bond connecting Myka to Helena. It vibrated with vitality when Helena drew near to Myka. It seemed that the closer Helena stayed to Myka, the better Myka looked (at least to Leena). It seemed Helena was Myka's tether to this present world, at least partially.
Leena cut her eyes to the figure seated near the headboard of the bed. The beautiful creature had her wings curled behind her back, her legs folded one over the other pillowing Myka's head as her hands hovered on both sides of Myka's head. She bowed her head in deference to the ancient power seated in the room, keeping Myka's body from expiring before the younger woman's time was up in this life. Nodding back in acknowledgement, Isis turned back to the task at hand.
"I see that Myka will be okay until she gets that vital part of herself back," Leena stated turning back to Helena. "All we have to do is wait, and let time play out the course of this thing."
"We do not have time," Helena stood to pace, running her hands through her hair in exasperation, "she could die at any moment."
"She will not die," Leena stated simply, getting up and collecting their tea cups.
"How can you be so sure?" Helena stopped pacing.
"I just am," Leena stopped after she opened the door. "You should consider taking a moment to look after yourself, Helena. Myka will be right here when you get back." She stepped out of the room before Helena had a time to respond.
Staring into the empty hallway through the open door, Helena shook her head in a slightly bewildered manner, "All the women in this household like telling me what to do."
Myka roused from sleep feeling like she was floating on a fluffy cloud. She knew she had a couple of broken ribs and she should not be feeling anything but pain, but all she felt was pleasantly numb. Her head lolled to the side and her eyes caught a beautiful sight. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on," came a deep voice with the words that had just passed through her mind. Helena looked up from the book she was reading and smiled at the compliment before looking up at someone just outside Myka's vision (not that Myka made any attempt to take her eyes off of Helena).
A kindly looking older man filled Myka's view for a moment, "It is good to see you awake young fellow." The man was obscuring Myka's view of Helena, she did not like it but she could not find it in herself to be upset at the man, she just smiled up at him her head lolling back to be able to see him better. She felt the man grab her right hand and bring it into her field of view. It was disconcerting to see a hand that she felt attached to herself but that was most definitely not hers. Myka was too relaxed, however, to let such a small detail bother her, instead she tried to concentrate on what the man was asking.
"This mark," he pointed to the tattoo on her inner right wrist, "where did you get it?"
She studied the mark for far longer than was usually necessary for her to come up with a coherent response, "I," she licked her lips and wondered at the odd octave her voice seemed to be stuck in, she cleared her throat and continued, "I have never seen it before." She paused and looked at the tattoo harder, "It looks like the feather of Ma'at, though. Interesting," she said before Helena moved back into her vision and expelled all other thoughts from her mind. "Hello, beautiful," she smiled widely up at the woman, "Have you done something to your hair? It looks good. Makes you look all Victorian like." She hummed to herself in agreement of her own statement.
"I do believe the doctor gave too high a dose, Kataranga," Helena said to the older man, amusement clearly evident in her voice.
"I would say so," he responded looking at the note the doctor had left for them. "I say the Warehouse needs to employ its own arsenal of personnel, doctors included. So we can fix these matters without outside interference."
"What happened to good ol' Doc Calder?" Myka asked absently as her eyes caressed every inch of Helena she could see. "She's the best doctor the Warehouse has ever had, wouldn't trade her for anything." Two sets of eyes looked down at her, she suddenly felt scrutinized. "What? What did I say?" She asked with as much interest as she could muster, which was very little because the flickering lights of the candles lit around the room were distracting her from concentrating.
"What happened at that warehouse?" Helena asked at Kataranga's prompting.
"It seemed like an artifact induced explosion," Myka answered airily, looking dreamily up at Helena, "You have the most beautiful brown eyes. They are steady and sure like the earth." Helena shook her head, a smile playing on her lips.
"So you know about the Warehouse?" Kataranga asked, cutting anymore remarks about Helena's beauty short.
"Why wouldn't I know about the Warehouse," Myka asked flicking her eyes to the man, "I only work for it…them…whatever…I'm employed by the Warehouse." Myka nodded to herself at getting all the words out right.
Again, Myka felt scrutinized under two intense set of eyes. Before she could ask a question, Kataranga continued with his own questioning, "So how did you end up in the middle of that explosion at the old warehouse?"
Myka momentarily stared at the ceiling, cutting off as much distraction as possible, trying to recall how she had ended up there in the first place. "I don't exactly know. I seemed to fly over half the world before I ended up there. It was a trip. I thought I was dreaming," Myka said, after which she concentrated on focusing on Helena again but the woman had moved out of her field of view. She tried to focus enough to move her head and follow the woman but she could not muster enough willpower to have her body follow her mind's commands. And soon, the pretty shapes the shadows were making on the ceiling and the whispered conversation between Helena and the nice older gentleman lulled her very drugged addled mind to slumber.
Helena entered Myka's room after having showered and changed into something more comfortable than her usual attire. She startled slightly upon noticing Pete in the room, she had not expected anyone to be in with Myka. Helena scowled slightly when Pete did not acknowledge her presence but instead continued to whisper something into Myka's ear while he held her left hand between his own bigger ones. She had to physically restrain herself from commenting. And, she had to mentally shake the feeling of jealousy washing through her at Pete's proximity to Myka. She knew, logically, that Myka and Pete had a completely platonic relationship. But, she could not help the illogical feelings she sometimes felt when it came to the woman lying in the bed.
Moving to the window, Helena gave Pete as much privacy as she could while still being in the room. She stared out into the waning twilight without trying to engage the man in conversation. Since their argument in Warehouse 2, Pete had kept silent in Helena's presence. She found the silent treatment both a blessing and a curse. She knew they were just building up to another argument. But, she was not prepared to tell the man anything. Leastwise, how she felt about his partner.
Hearing the door click shut behind her, Helena turned to see the now empty room save for Myka still lying motionless (almost lifeless) on her bed. The inventor moved to sit at the edge of the bed. She wrapped her fingers around Myka's right hand. She needed to be physically near the young woman. Even though Myka did not respond to her physical nearness, it seemed an impulse she could not control. Bringing Myka's hand up to her face, she softly, tenderly kissed each knuckle. Then, turning Myka's hand over, she kissed the younger woman's palm. Helena stopped mid kiss when she noticed a mark on Myka's right inner wrist that had not been there before their venture into Warehouse 2.
Helena scooted closer and angled Myka's arm into the light to better inspect the mark. Gasping in shock as she got a clear view of what was on Myka's wrist. "How can this be?" Helena wondered out loud, disbelief coloring her words. "What is going on?" Helena's voice shook as she traced her fingertip over Myka's newly acquired tattoo. "The feather of Ma'at, in the exact same place," Helena flopped down on her back next to Myka, tears she had been keeping at bay since she saw Myka's body fall on the ancient Warehouse floor began silently trailing down her cheeks. "I feel so useless Myka."
Isis was not given over to human emotion, but her heart was moved with compassion at the sight of Helena's pain. Looking on as Helena moved closer to Myka, Isis observed the bond connecting the women's hearts grow stronger with the proximity. Helena laid her head on Myka's shoulder and wrapped her arms around the younger woman's slim waist.
"She has already changed your world," Isis whispered at the older woman, though Helena would not have been able to hear her if she had shouted. The goddess unfurled her wings and enveloped both women under them. "Sleep, child," the goddess uttered looking at Helena. Finally allowing exhaustion to overtake her, Helena closed her eyes and let sleep take her.
Waking with a pounding headache, every inch of her body aching with pain, Myka groaned. Her throat was parched and she needed to pee (really, really bad). Gritting her teeth against the pain of jarring her broken ribs, she slowly pulled herself out of bed. Holding the wall until her vision cleared and the pain receded somewhat, she took a moment to take in her surroundings.
She took in the ornate antique furniture, the lavish but classy decorative scheme, and the flicking candle lights throughout the room. Doing a second sweep of the room with her eyes, she decided it looked very much like something from an old world picture. If she thought about it hard enough, it kind of reminded her of Helena. She shook her head as bits and pieces of the weirdest dream she had experienced in ages came back to her.
She started slowly, painstakingly making her way to the door so she could go to the bathroom. A wrong step caused her to double over in pain, her hand coming up to hold her injured ribs. Feeling something seriously wrong as her palm passed over her chest, Myka looked down and almost passed out from the shock of what she saw. Her chest was completely flat. "What the Hell?" She gasped making her way as quickly as her injured body would allow to the full length mirror in the room.
Stepping in front of the mirror, Myka had to anchor her hands on both sides of the mirror to keep from tumbling to the floor. Her white knuckled grip was the only thing keeping her upright as she gaped at the reflection staring back at her. "What the Hell? What the Hell? What the Hell?" Myka repeated like a broken disc, her voice getting more hysterical the longer she looked at the reflection. She saw her flat chest, wrapped torso, and she did not even want to think about what was below her waist. Dreading knowing, but having to see the evidence for herself, Myka tore one hand off of the mirror and slowly approached the waistband of what looked like billowy, long-john underwear. Pausing, and psyching herself out for what she was almost certain she would encounter, Myka pulled the waistband of the underwear and looked down. She quickly let the waistband snap back on her waist. Gripping the mirror harder than before, she saw the edges of her vision go white.
"What the Hell is going on?" Myka asked into the empty room, the strange reflection in the mirror mimicking every move.
Needing to sit, lest she faint and injure herself further, Myka made her way slowly back to the bed and gingerly sat down. Shocked speechless, motionless, and nearly thoughtless, Myka just sat with her mouth hanging open. When the reality began to sink in, Myka buried her head in her hands, trying to get the world to stop spinning, willing an explanation to appear out of thin air. "How is this even possible?" she expelled in a voice much too deep to be her own, running hands through short dark locks of hair. Looking up at the mirror across from her, seeing the reflection of the young man she had seen die under the weight of the beam in the old warehouse, Myka felt like crying in despair.
She was now very much a he.