racethewind10 was like three you should make cards and I just think if that responsibility was given to me you’d end up with shitly made, derpy looking faced cards.
Case in point. I shouldn’t be allowed this responsibility. I mean really:
Happy American Thanksgiving, and happy Bering and Wells Holiday Gift Exchange sign-up opening day!
The gift exchange is open to anyone who wants to make a fic, art piece, gif, or any other fandom-related gift and exchange it with a fellow Bering and Wells fan. Here's the schedule:
Message or ask me via this blog or my personal account (@kla1991) anytime between now and the winter solstice, December 21st, and say you'd like to participate. Also say whether you're willing to open your askbox to anonymous messages or if you'd prefer courrier service to speak to your secret gifter.
On December 25th, you'll receive the username of someone else who signed up; this is your giftee! You should also double-check that your inbox is open and accepting anonymous messages on this day if you're participating that way.
Between December 25th and New Years, January 1st, you will anonymously communicate with your giftee to receive prompts about what type of fandom stuff you make and what type of gift they might like to receive. You'll also give prompts, if you have any, to your gifter! If at any point you have questions about how to do this, reach out to me.
You will then have from January 1st until Valentine's Day, February 14th, to create a gift, and they'll all be posted on tumblr on the 14th!
Feel free to message me with any questions, and please spread the word!
The villain decides to do the classic "team up to defeat a common foe" trope but it's been taking a lot longer than they had expected,the heroes are getting emotionally attached and it's starting to get weird.
Myka: Okay! That's Susanna Hoffs' guitar pick located, contained, and nullified, with no-one being affected and forced to share their innermost thoughts as intense power ballads! And in just under four hours!
Steve: I'll let Claudia know to change our flights to this afternoon, and cancel the motel bookings!
Myka: This operation will come in under budget! Artie will be so pleased with us!
Steve (points at her): And that's no lie!
They high five
If Pete and HG were partners
Pete: Nothing much in this drawer, just papers. And this old-timey compass.
Ask, @purlturtle, and ye shall receive. This is part one of something. As @anandabrat noted, this firmly falls into the "make things worse" category, but only for now.
---
Today has been so full of what the fuck that Myka’s processing has slowed. It takes her a while to actually hear the words Helena just said to that cop… Curtis. Having processed them, of course, she's now never ever going to forget the words Helena just said, about impressing a lady. Having never once acknowledged, to Myka, directly, this thing between them… This thing that Myka has started to doubt ever existed between them, given… well. Nate. That beige house. The dizzying speed at which Helena seems to have replaced her, the Warehouse, any traces of herself. How quickly must she have moved in with… And now, to casually throw the line away. As if to brag that they are here to hook up on a lab table. As if Myka would ever do that… except there have been times she would absolutely have done that, if Helena had directly asked. Only if and if only Helena had asked.
They are pulling footage from the shelf and loading it into the computer when Myka decides she can’t help herself.
“Why did you say that?”
“Hmm?”
Myka tries mightily not to lose her shit as she says, “To him. Why did you say that to him?”
She is glad the sentence comes out as a question at least. A thin, needy question and Myka has worked very hard to sound like that in front of no one in her life, but a question any rational being might ask.
Helena does not look at her. She is tidying equipment off of the desk and her voice sounds entirely un-strained. “I was trying to get us in the door, darling. With the fewest questions and the least likelihood of interruptions.”
It is one way to do that, Myka supposes. Still, she wants to snap at Helena, don't call me darling. Instead, she says,
“But, doesn't he know Nate?”
Helena still doesn't bother to look. “Curtis? Not personally.”
Myka isn’t sure why this is the thing she is fixating on, when there are so many questions to ask Helena right now. She can’t stop herself from asking, however.
“Does it bother you that Nate might find out about your… impressing a lady at the station?” Myka doesn't say, about me. That, at least, she has self control for.
Now Helena does look. “Of all the things Nate could find out about me…” she offers Myka a small smile, “I believe being here with you is the least of my concerns.”
“Ok.” She supposes that is fair. What is there to tell, about them at the station, right now? Nothing is happening. Myka can feel her composure sliding so she looks away.
Helena coughs and busies herself with the tapes.
Eventually Helena says, “It helps. With the police.”
“I'm sorry?”
“Projecting an air of… it's helpful for them to see me as one of the boys.”
Myka blinks at her. Helps to?
“If I give the impression I'm a bit of a… cad? Particularly with women. Anyway, it helps at work, to reduce their… interest.”
“Does it.”
“Mostly, yes. They may joke but they rarely try it on with me these days.”
Myka nods. It's not her approach, and frankly she can't see it working well, but she understands the need for a protective veneer on the job. Especially this kind of job.
“So have you… have you done that before? With other women?”
“Brought… To the station?” Helena turns and meets Myka’s eyes. “I… have.”
“Jesus Christ, Helena.” Myka puts her face in her hands.
“What?” Helena sounds pained. Pained and oddly formal, with the broad a and the t more pronounced than usual.
“Nothing.”
Helena searches Myka’s face. “Are you offended on Nate's behalf?” Her expression is strange to Myka, not quite confused, but not at all happy.
She moves her hands away from her face. “No. God. No. You can do what you want, Helena.”
“But you don't approve.”
Approve? Well, no. Myka doesn't. It's not a great way to conduct a relationship with someone, but what right does she have to tell Helena off? She can’t quite make herself feel calm about this, however. And, if she's honest with herself, it's not Nate that Myka is thinking about.
“Just tell me I’m not sitting in the same chair.”
Helena looks down. “You aren't.”
They are both silent for a while. There is a lot of footage to review, and for that Myka is grateful. She has no idea what to say.
“We…” Helena starts and falters. “It's not anyone's business.”
“I guess it's definitely not mine.”
Helena blanches. “Not really, no.”
“Sorry.”
Helena takes a deep breath before continuing her thought. “Just so you don’t think the worst of me, I believe in my time Nate and I would have been called practitioners… of free love. In the Blakeian sense?”
Myka looks up to find Helena watching her.
“In the sense of… oh.” Oh. Ok. “You aren't monogamous.”
Helena agrees with a cautious, “No.”
“Ok.” Myka sighs. So she isn't lying to Nate after all… well, no. Isn't lying about this, after all. That Helena would be a proponent of free love, as she put it, is not actually so surprising is it?
Such a thing seems like Helena Wells and not Emily Lake. Not like the beige house. But a thing that Helena also never brought up before, at the Warehouse, to Myka. In all their conversations about literature, and philosophy. They did talk about Blake, she remembers, and Helena never… God, does Nate bring other women back to that beige house? Other men? Does Helena…
She shakes her head. So Helena is polyamorous. Sure. It really isn’t Myka’s business. So why does the idea of Helena bringing another woman to this station sting, more than the existence of Nate alone?
“I didn't know that.” Myka tries to keep any emotion out of her voice.
And why does the fact that she didn't know hurt too?
Helena is still watching. “You don't approve of that either.”
“I don't have to approve, if it works for you.”
She can see Helena's shoulders sag as Helena finally looks away.
“No, Helena.” She reaches out for Helena’s arm and speaks as gently as she can. “I'm not judging you. I want you to be happy. If Nate makes you happy, if this life… if the other people also make you happy? I think that's good.”
And, given that she really does want Helena to be happy, she really does, why does it have to be physically painful to pronounce the words, ‘other people?’
Helena doesn't look up, but she places her hand over Myka’s.
“Myka, I… I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for? Let's just focus on the footage, ok?”
Helena nods and lets Myka take the lead on the computer. She doesn’t meet Myka’s eyes, but when she sees Myka work, she doesn’t hide the admiration in her voice. “You’ve been watching Claudia.”
And it's only a few minutes later that they find what they are looking for. Briggs.
They both get professional after that. The rest of the case is a whirlwind. Briggs attacks Nate, Helena gets mad at her, properly mad, when Myka brings up Adelaide. Provoking a rise out of Helena feels good. At least Helena has emerged again from the shadow that is Emily…
Then Briggs takes Adelaide and Helena goes into a state that Myka has never seen before. Myka too, drops everything that could get in the way of finding Adelaide. No time to think about Helena and Nate and the other people. Helena has found an Adelaide to protect and perhaps Nate gives her the kind of freedom she would not be able to get elsewhere. Would not, in fact, be able to get with Myka. She can think about that, mourn that if need be, when they find Adelaide.
And when they do, when Helena and Nate are trying to see what can be salvaged of their relationship, what right does Myka have to get in the way of that?
So she leaves. She gives Helena a hug, tells her to fight for what she has, and she leaves. Vague, insincere plans for coffee. She is trying to cry as silently as possible as Pete turns them onto I-90.
—
They don’t even make it to the Minnesota border before Helena texts, however.
<i>There's a book. About it.</i>
Myka stares at the screen. Surely she should ask a clarifying question, like “a book about what?” or even, “is this message for me?” But Myka knows what Helena is saying. She's pretty sure she's actually read the book in question.
<i>Is it called The Ethical Slut?</i>
The bubbles on the screen emerge so quickly that Myka actually laughs. It sounds thin and edgy even to her own ears but she has surprised Helena and that feels something akin to good, at least. Pete glances over at her.
<i>You're familiar with it?<i>
<i>I've read it, yes.</i>
The little bubbles appear immediately again and then stop. Appear and stop. Myka waits for Helena to frame and reframe whatever it is she wants to say.
Finally, a message comes through.
<i>I didn't know that.</i>
Now Myka laughs again but the sound comes out wetter this time. She must be crying again, then. She turns so that her phone screen is less visible to Pete and starts to type, <i>what a conversation we could have had</i> but then deletes the message.
She settles instead for, <i>It's not an arrangement that works for me.</i>
Myka stares at the phone screen but nothing comes up for a long time. Finally, quickly, the bubble comes and goes.
<i>I know.</i>
Myka wants to throw her phone out the window. She is texting before she can think better of what she says and ignoring Pete's increasingly alarmed glances away from the road.
<i>What do you mean you know. You have never asked me about anything like that</i>
<i>Myka</i>
Myka can almost hear the chiding tone in Helena’s voice. What right does Helena have to make claims to know things about her? She continues before Helena can finish her thought, <i>You never asked. And I would have loved having that conversation with you. Even–</i>
She stops, deletes the last word, sends, restarts. <i>It wouldn't have been the first time we had different approaches to a subject, would it?</i>
Helena waits a long time before answering.
<i>True.</i>
A pause and then bubbles start to form again.
<i>There are many conversations I wish we'd had time for, Myka.</i>
Myka doesn't realize she's been holding her breath until she releases it, all at once.
“You ok there, Mykes?”
Myka startles. The car is dark and Pete is overtaking another truck on the highway.
“Yeah. Fine.”
<i>Me too.</i>
Pete glances over. “Is that Helena?”
Myka nods.
“We turning back?”
Myka puts down her phone and looks at the window. They could turn back, couldn't they? Myka could make Helena talk to her again, could ask her… But no, Helena has told her she doesn't want to leave, doesn't want a life with the warehouse. She has her new life. Perhaps this line of text is the only way Helena would have a conversation with Myka now. She picks up her phone again.
“No. We should keep going.”
She hits send on her own message, <i>Do we have time now?</i> just as Helena's comes in.
<i>I was afraid that you would think poorly of me, if I brought it up.</i>
<i>Helena how many times…</i> Myka types, then erases. Starts again.
<i>Do I seem that closed minded to you?</i>
No response from Helena. Myka mutters, “fuck it” to herself, realizing that she said the words out loud only when she feels Pete turn to her again. She ignores him.
<i>I fell in love with you while you were plotting to end the world, Helena. Surely you can't imagine I would hate you for polyamory?</i>
The bubbles start again but there is another long, long pause before any text comes through. Well, if that ends our conversation, Myka thinks, at least I said it. She can do with it what she likes.
<i>She reminded me of you.</i>
For fucks sake.
She types and sends the word, <i>What?</i> But Myka knows the answer to this too. In her bones, she knows what Helena is talking about, still. And it turns her stomach sour.
<i>You asked about the other woman I brought to the station. She reminded me of you.</i>
Woman singular. Reminded her of Myka. Fantastic. Myka feels sick.
<i>Why on earth would you tell me that</i>
<i>I didn’t want you to think... There haven't been many and…</i>
A second text arrives. <i>I missed you</i>
<i>God, Helena. That's worse. That's so much worse.</i>
<i>Worse than… Why?</i>
<i>Because I see someone who reminds me of you and I don't want to go home with her, I want to go home with you.</i>
Another long pause.
<i>And if you cannot do that?</i>
Myka could laugh. <i>I don't tend to go home with anyone, Helena</i>
<i>I don't see how that makes things any better for you. Or me.</i>
Nothing makes anything better. She doesn’t want to text this, and Myka cannot think of anything better to say, so she asks, <i>Could you have told me some of this a little earlier?</i>
<i>When, for example?</i>
<i>I don’t know, Helena. At any of the various points where I was making a fool of myself for you?</i>
Myka still wants to throw her phone across the car, but she also cannot look away from the fact that Helena is typing a message on the other side of that screen. Eventually, the message appears.
<i>I am sorry, Myka. It's been my experience that it doesn't end well between two people who have different approaches to love.</i>
Myka sighs. <i>That's been my experience too.</i>
Another message appears.
<i>You of all people know that nobody can promise time.</i>
Time? Oh. Helena is answering her question from before, if they have time… what had Myka been asking for, exactly? An open door. That’s all. As for the rest?
<i>I'm not asking you to marry me, Helena. Just whether you want to keep talking to me.</i>
<i>Well, as we've established, marriage isn't something I generally approve of, so I'm glad to hear it.</i>
Nice to see that Helena feels up for joking about this. That makes one of them at least. Well, if she is going to be flippant, then…
<i>You don't approve of marriage but you do approve of beige paint?</i>
