and it looks like you'll stay
Written for ladysnarkbite for the Bering and Wells holiday exchange. Happy holiday(s) of your choice!
“Good. Everyone’s here,” Artie says, sitting down at the breakfast table.
“Do we have a ping?” Claudia asks.
“No. Well, yes, but it’s nothing life-threatening, so I will brief you on that after breakfast,” Artie says.
“What’s going on, then?” Myka asks.
“I thought we should discuss Christmas plans before you go about making travel arrangements,” Artie says. “I have plans with Vanessa, and I’ll need three people working that week.”
“Ooh, nose goes,” Pete says, quickly putting his hand on his nose and then putting it back down after no one else follows suit. “Come on, guys. Nose goes?”
“What is nose goes?” HG asks, frowning.
“It’s a stupid sort of game,” Myka says. “If there’s an unpleasant task and you need to pick who does it, someone says ‘nose goes’, and whoever puts their hand on their nose last has to do it. I think it’s mostly done by pre-teens.”
“Hey, do not insult the nose goes,” Pete says. “Anyways, I still call not it for working on Christmas. I was here last year. I deserve a year off.”
“I’ll stay. I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go,” HG says. Myka smiles weakly at her, though she’s not sure if it actually comes across as sympathetic.
“I can stay too,” Claudia says. “Whenever I hang out with Joshua’s friends, they wind up having conversations about physics that even I don’t understand.”
“Yes, because how could physics PhDs know more than a random 22-year-old?” Steve says.
“Hey, you are talking to a girl genius here,” Claudia says.
“Of course,” Steve says. “Anyways, my mom really wants me home for Christmas. I think she has some questions about the whole metronome thing. Sorry, Myka. I know Christmas is a big thing in your family.”
Myka shrugs. “Tracy’s spending Christmas with Kevin this year, so it will be less of an ordeal this year. But next year, you guys get Christmas duty, and I get to go home.”
“Fair enough,” Steve says.
“Good. Now that that’s settled, one of you will have to keep an eye on the Warehouse, and the other two will be in the field,” Artie says.
“Ooh, I call fieldwork,” Claudia says.
“And the two in the field will be attending a couples’ retreat undercover as a married couple,” Artie says.
“Okay, or we could go with something a little less cradle robber-y,” Claudia says.
“Sorry, darling. I’m sure you’d be a fantastic young, hot trophy wife, but it might be a little more convincing if I went with Myka,” HG says, winking at Claudia.
“So Helena and I are going to a couples’ retreat, and we have to pretend to be a couple,” Myka says, slowly processing what’s going on.
“Yes, of course, it’s the most obvious cover, and if flashing our badges just worked, we would have snagged this artifact years ago,” Artie says. “Anyways, we should finish breakfast and not leave our current ping waiting too long.”
“Of course,” Myka says, trying not to think too much about exactly what this entails.
---
The thing is that Myka can’t think too much about the implications of pretending to be HG’s wife, because it’s a work thing, and she doesn’t like getting emotional about work things. Myka values professionalism, and separating her personal life and her professional life, at least as much as she can when her personal life mostly involves living with all of her coworkers, is a crucial part of that. So, really, pretending to be HG’s wife is just the most logical cover for this situation, and Myka can do covers, even if she usually winds up just flashing her badge and muttering something about mushrooms instead.
Still, it’s kind of an odd cover to have, since this isn’t exactly the first time that she’s pictured HG and herself as a couple. It hadn’t taken long after Yellowstone for her to figure out exactly why that near apocalypse had been so much more devastating than the others, or, for that matter, why she still had the post-it note that HG gave her with the grappler or why she had felt so happy when HG has offhandedly mentioned she was interested in women. After that, it had been hard not to let her imagination run wild and imagine HG professing her love with some grand romantic gesture. And anyways, it had been a safe fantasy to have when HG had been in scary regent prison and therefore pretty much out of the picture. Now that she’s no longer a hologram who tried to destroy the world and instead is a living, breathing, very much tangible person who still tried to destroy the world and who also happens to live and work with Myka, though, it’s harder to know what to imagine.
The retreat is in a small hotel in rural Maine, which is clearly trying, and mostly failing, to have a cozy atmosphere. When they check in, they’re greeted by a middle-aged blonde woman who introduces herself as Mrs. Goldwater and welcomes them effusively. Myka can’t help but think that Mrs. Goldwater seems overly friendly, but she’s not sure if that’s actually the case or if that’s just a side effect of feeling awkward about this assignment.
“So we’re sharing a bed,” Myka says, as they get to their room.
“Well, yes,” HG says, putting down her bag. “We are pretending to be married, and last I checked, this isn’t a 50’s sitcom.”
“Yes, of course, that makes sense,” Myka says. “I just hadn’t thought about it.”
“So what’s the plan now?” HG asks.
“Well, there’s not much for us to do right now,” Myka says. “We already have a list of people who have been at this retreat every year since the violent incidents started, and we need to keep our cover, so we can’t go around questioning them normally.”
“Right, well, I guess then we have to start socializing with the rest of the people at this retreat,” HG says. “Which, according to our schedule, is beginning with a dance this evening in the hotel’s ballroom.”
“Great,” Myka says. “It will bring back memories of horrible high school dances.”
HG shrugs. “I think it sounds fun. In any case, it looks like it starts in ten minutes, so we should probably head down shortly.”
“We should,” Myka says. “But first we need to look the part a little more.”
“What do you mean? We already put on our fake wedding rings.”
“Yes, we did. By the way, Claudia says that we should probably take them off at night. Something about cheap metal turning our skin green?”
“Noted,” Helena says. “So what else do we need?”
“Well, in case you didn’t notice when we were checking in, most of the couples here are more, well, suburban than us. At least the good news is that this is a liberal enough crowd that they won’t have any issues with us both being women or with us having different last names or any of that.”
“And here I was thinking that Myka Wells has such a nice ring to it.”
“Please, you’d be the one taking my last name.”
“Well, I suppose I could live with Helena Bering,” HG says. “In any case, how do you propose we become more suburban?”
“With these,” Myka says, taking out two sweaters, one with a design of a reindeer and the other with a design of Santa Claus.
HG grimaces at the sweaters. “And what are those?”
Myka shoots her a skeptical look. “I know fashion has changed a lot since you were born, but surely know what sweaters are.”
“Yes, I know what sweaters are, though in my country, we tend to call them jumpers,” HG says indignantly. “Normally, they don’t have Rudolph on them.”
“Well, it’s the week of Christmas. I figured we should wear Christmas sweaters.”
“They’re garish.”
“They’re festive.”
“Well, this is one festive tradition I’d rather avoid, but if you insist, I suppose I’ll wear the sweater,” HG says.
She takes the reindeer sweater and puts it on. The sweater looks even more ridiculous on her than it did laid out on the bed, but somehow HG manages to look kind of adorable while wearing it.
“I suppose that means I get the Santa one,” Myka says, taking it and putting it on.
“I suppose it does. And since you got me such a nice gift with this sweater, it seems only right for me to give you something in return,” HG says.
“You didn’t need to get me anything,” Myka says, suddenly conscious of the fact that she didn’t buy HG a gift.
“Well, it’s not really a gift, though I suppose we can say it’s your Christmas present, since I didn’t get you anything else,” HG says. “While I was on the Janus coin, the regents stored everything that had been in my room at the B&B in the Escher Vault, and they just returned all my things to me. I was going through them, and I found a book you lent me before, well, you know.”
She takes a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy out of her bag and hands it to Myka.
“You can keep it, you know,” Myka says. “I, uh, I actually forgot I had given it to you.”
“No, I insist you take it,” HG says. “After all, I did say it’s your Christmas present.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I have to take it,” Myka says, taking the book and placing it on the bedside table. “Now, I guess we should head down.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” HG asks, pointing at the Santa sweater still on the bed.
“Right, can’t forget that,” Myka says, putting on the sweater and feeling about as ridiculous as one should feel when wearing a bright red sweater with Santa Claus on it.
---
They run into another couple on the elevator who introduce themselves as Henry and Mara Cohen, names not on Myka’s list of suspects.
“I’m Helena Wells,” HG says in reply to the Cohens’ introduction. “This is my wife Myka. Is this your first time at this retreat?”
“It is,” Mara says. “My mother decided to take our daughter Meredith on a special trip to New York for her winter break, so we decided we needed to do something special ourselves.”
“That’s wonderful. How old is your daughter?” HG asks.
“She just turned seven last month,” Mara says.
“That’s a great age,” HG says, and Myka wonders if the Cohens can tell that she seems ever so slightly sad when she says it.
“Do you two have kids?” Mara asks
HG shakes her head. “We don’t, but I have a niece who’s seven. Brilliant girl.”
Henry says, “I guess our Meredith your…”
“Christina,” HG says.
“Yes, our Meredith and your Christina should meet some time,” Henry says.
“They should,” HG says.
The elevator comes to a stop and Myka’s Farnsworth buzzes.
“I should take this, but it was great meeting you two,” Myka says, nodding at the Cohens, who head towards the ballroom.
Myka opens her Farnsworth and is greeted by Claudia laughing hysterically.
“Hello to you, Claudia,” Myka says.
“Do you know how ridiculous you look in those sweaters?” Claudia says.
“I didn’t want to wear them,” HG says over Myka’s shoulder.
“Well, we fit in better wearing them than wearing leather jackets,” Myka says.
“Still, this is a priceless image. I wish Pete were here so I could call him over and he could laugh too,” Claudia says.
“Claudia, why are you actually calling?” Myka asks.
“Oh, right, I just wanted to let you know that I’m at the B&B, but I SSHed into the Warehouse computer from my laptop, which technically I’m not allowed to do so don’t tell Artie, but anyways, call me whenever mayhem occurs, and I’ll get on the research,” Claudia says.
“Thanks, Claud,” Myka says, squinting at the screen and noticing that Claudia’s in the B&B kitchen. “Are you making cookies?”
“Artie’s not here, and someone had to,” Claudia says. “Leena’s out buying eggnog. We have plans to watch the Charlie Brown Christmas special and gorge ourselves on cookies later. Um, assuming you don’t need help with research, of course.”
“Then, let’s hope that there’s no excitement tonight,” Myka says. “Talk to you later.”
“Make sure you get pictures of you two in the Christmas sweaters, by the way. I want to cherish that image forever,” Claudia says.
“I’m hanging up now,” Myka says, snapping her Farnsworth shut. She turns to HG and says, “Next time someone asks if we have a child, we’re saying yes and that her name is Claudia.”
---
When they get to the dance, a 20-year-old pop song is playing, and Myka can’t help but think that if there were basketball hoops on the walls, it would be exactly like a horrible high school dance. As they make their way to center of the dance floor, a slow song comes on, and HG says, “So shall we dance?”
“I guess we should,” Myka says.
“So what do we do?” HG says. “I think dancing has changed a bit since my day.”
Myka shrugs. “There’s not really much to it. I put my hands on your shoulders,” Myka says, doing so. “And then, you’re supposed to put your arms around my waist.”
“I can do that,” HG says, pulling in Myka closer than she was expecting. “And now?”
“Now, we just kind of sway back and forth,” Myka says.
“So there really isn’t much to it,” HG says.
“Yeah, which is probably good, because if this were the sort of dance with actual choreography, I’d probably wind up stepping on your toes,” Myka says.
“Now, I refuse to believe I married someone who’s such a poor dancer,” HG says. “After all, I have such fond memories of the first dance at our wedding.”
Myka smiles and does her best not to blush.
About a minute later, Mrs. Goldwater walks by them and asks them, “Are you two having fun?”
“We are,” HG says flatly, and the lighting’s not great, but Myka’s pretty sure she’s glaring a bit.
“It almost feels like she’s going to tell us to save room for Jesus,” Myka comments as Mrs. Goldwater walks away.
“Save room for Jesus?” HG asks.
“It’s something that chaperones at Catholic school dances say to couples who they think are dancing too closely together,” Myka says. “Or at least allegedly that’s what they say. I never went to Catholic school.”
“Well, I suppose it’s good to know that everything I hated about the Victorian era isn’t gone,” HG says.
Myka tries to think of something clever to say in response, but she gets distracted as she notices the Cohens’ next to them having a rather loud argument.
“And what about that grill I got you last Hanukkah?” Henry asks.
“I used it,” Mara says. “I made those steaks.”
“Yeah, you used it. All of two times,” Henry says.
“Three times,” Mara says. “You were out of town the last time.”
“Oh, well, now you don’t even love me enough to use my grill when I’m in town,” Henry says.
“What do you bet this is the sort of violent incident that’s happened in previous years?” Myka says quietly to HG.
“I’d imagine it is,” HG says.
“We should probably step in,” Myka says.
“You call Claudia while I handle the Cohens?” HG says.
“Sounds like a plan,” Myka says, grabbing her Farnsworth and leaving the ballroom.
---
The problem is that, even after the incident with the Cohens, they don’t have many more leads than they did before. There are plenty of artifacts that can make couples fight, and nearly everyone at the retreat was at the dance, so that doesn’t narrow their field of suspects at all.
The second day’s event is a tour of the Maine countryside, which is about as boring as it sounds, but until they find something that actually leads them to the artifact, they have to participate.
“So I never asked. How did you deal with the Cohens last night?” Myka asks as they stare at yet another snow-covered field.”
“I hogtied them and left them in the hotel’s 24-hour business center. I figured no one actually will go in there to do business this week,” HG says.
“That’s… one way to deal with them, I guess,” Myka says.
They sit in silence for a moment but are distracted as a couple at the back of the bus starts yelling at each other.
“And you never wear that necklace that I gave you for your birthday,” one of them says.
“It doesn’t match any of my dresses,” the other says.
“Well, then, buy a dress it matches,” the first one says. “It’s a lovely necklace. You should own something you can wear it with.”
Before the argument can escalate, and before HG or Myka can step in, Mrs. Goldwater, who Myka notes is wearing the same ugly sweater from yesterday, yells, “Get out! Excuse me, bus driver, can you pull over. The two troublemakers in the back are getting off.”
HG stands up and places her hand on Mrs. Goldwater’s arm. “Excuse me, but are you sure it’s wise to abandon them on the side of the road?”
“They can call a cab. Or hitchhike. They’re not staying on my bus, and I am not going to discuss this,” Mrs. Goldwater says.
HG rolls her eyes but sits back down. “Have it your way, then,” she says.
The bus pulls over, and Myka pulls out her Farnsworth.
“Hey, Claudia, it happened again,” she says.
“Same couple or different one?” Claudia asks.
“Different,” Myka says. “And this time, they’re being abandoned on the side of the road, so we had better find that artifact as quickly as possible.”
“Youch. So what were they arguing about this time?”
“Um, it sounded like one of them had given the other a necklace for her birthday, but she never wore that necklace, because it didn’t go with any of her dresses,” Myka says.
“Huh, and yesterday’s was because someone had given someone else a grill they barely used?” Claudia asks.
“Yeah, that sounds right,” Myka says.
“I wonder if the artifact has to do with gifts,” Claudia says. “I’ll narrow my search and get back to you.”
“Thanks, Claud,” Myka says, hanging up the Farnsworth.
---
They go back to the hotel room when the tour’s over to regroup and to look through the case files again. Myka feels like there has to be some connection between the victims, but other than Claudia’s insight about the arguments being about gifts, she can’t think of anything.
“So none of the victims were here in any previous year,” Myka says.
HG, instead of responding immediately, looks over at the copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy that’s still on the bedside table and says, “You know, it was very odd of you not to want your book back.”
Myka shrugs. “I’m unlikely to need it any time soon. I was just thinking you could hold onto it if you wanted.”
“But to tell me to keep it when I was making a point of giving it to you? It’s almost like you didn’t appreciate it being given back to you,” HG says.
“I did appreciate it. I mean, it’s nice that you remembered to give it back to me. I just thought I’d give you the option of holding onto it, that’s all,” Myka says. “Now, we have an artifact to find.”
“Oh, well, now I’m convinced,” HG says sarcastically. “You know, it’s like you don’t care about the book at all, like it doesn’t matter to you in the slightest if you have it or not.”
Myka puts down the case file and looks directly at HG. “Okay, if you insist on having this conversation, let’s have this conversation,” she says. “I do appreciate having the book back. I really appreciated the book back. The thing was that for awhile, I didn’t have the book, and I couldn’t get it back for reasons that were entirely outside of my control, so I had to learn to be happy even without having that book in my life, but I’m very happy to have it back, and I don’t want to give it away again, and… and… oh my God, you’ve been whammied.”
“I’ve been whammied? Like that’s an excuse?” HG says.
“You’ve been whammied, and I should really not be talking to you right now,” Myka says, standing up to go.
“Wait, I haven’t even started talking about the grappler yet,” HG says.
“What is there to say about the grappler?” Myka asks.
“Oh, I don’t know, let’s start with how you let it get destroyed in an elevator,” HG says.
“That was to save my life and the regents’ lives, and, okay, I really need to go somewhere else,” Myka says.
She leaves the room and snaps open her Farnsworth.
“Hey, Claudia, please tell me you’ve found something,” Myka says.
“Things got worse?” Claudia asks.
“HG’s been whammied,” Myka says. “We just had a very long argument about a book she returned to me, and I don’t want to continue it.”
“Yeah, that sounds bad,” Claudia says. “The good news is I’m looking at my search results, and I think I have something that fits the profile.”
“Good. What is it?”
“Ezra Cornell’s sweater,” Claudia says. “It looks like, in addition to found the frattiest Ivy League school, Mr. Cornell coined the term white elephant, which led to a sweater that, if you touch it but don’t actually put it on, makes you intensely bitter about people not appreciating your gifts.”
“That sounds like it,” Myka says. “What does it look like?”
“It’s kind of a standard sweater,” Claudia says. “It looks dark red in this picture if that helps.”
“I think I might know where it is,” Myka says, remembering Mrs. Goldwater’s burgundy sweater. “Do you think that the effects would be triggered if someone touched the sweater while it was being worn by someone else?”
“Probably,” Claudia says. “That seems to go along with the sweater’s M.O.”
“Okay, I am going to go get the sweater,” Myka says.
“Good luck,” Claudia says, hanging up.
---
Mrs. Goldwater is in the lobby playing cards with a few couples when Myka finds her. Figuring she should verify that the sweater could be the artifact before doing anything else, she walks up to her, puts on a sweet fake smile and says, “Excuse me, I was wondering where you got that sweater.”
“Oh, I got this thing at a yard sale a couple of years ago,” Mrs. Goldwater says. “It’s very cozy.”
“A few years ago? So around 2010?” Myka asks, mentioning the year in which the first violent incidents happened.
“Yes, I guess that’s right. Why?” Mr. Goldwater asks.
“Because I need to confiscate it,” Myka says, suddenly business-like. She pulls out her badge and flashes it at Mrs. Goldwater. “Agent Bering, United States Secret Service.”
Mrs. Goldwater frowns. “What does the government want with my sweater?”
“We believe it’s been affected with a certain fungus we’re trying to wipe out,” Myka says. “Your cooperation would be nice, especially since I know you’ve turned away government agents before.”
“Fine,” Mrs. Goldwater says, taking off her sweater. “Though I’ll have you know, the only reason the agents were turned away before was because they’re terrible for business. I didn’t want my guests to see government agents snooping around. It would be very disturbing.”
“Just give me the sweater,” Myka says. “Quickly, please.”
“Here you go,” Mrs. Goldwater says, handing Myka the sweater. “There’s no need to get snippy about it.”
“Yeah, well, I would be a lot less snippy about it if the fungus hadn’t affected my wife,” Myka says. “By the way, you may want to cover your eyes.”
She drops the sweater in a static bag, which, fortunately, lets off a large shower of sparks.
“Now that that’s dealt with, look at the bright side, dear,” Mrs. Goldwater says. “You and your wife are still signed up for this retreat, and you can have a wonderful week now. You two seem like a wonderful couple.”
Myka shakes her head and decides that, assuming HG’s okay now that the sweater’s been bagged, it’s time to get several time zones away from Mrs. Goldwater.
---
“I take it this is not how you wanted to spend Christmas Eve,” HG says, sitting down next to Myka in the airport terminal.
“I keep thinking about what I’d be eating if I were at home,” Myka says, poking at her bland airport food. “Mom always makes way too much, and there’s ham and gingerbread and latkes…”
“Latkes?” HG asks.
“Yeah, Mom is Jewish,” Myka says. “Dad’s not, so we never went to temple or anything, but we do Jewish holidays, so every December, there’s dreidels and menorahs and endless arguments about the various merits of applesauce and sour cream.”
“Applesauce and sour cream?” HG asks.
“Yeah, as toppings for latkes. The arguments can get pretty heated,” Myka says. “Pete and Artie insist that applesauce is better, but they are so wrong.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” HG says, clearly amused.
“I, um, I got you something, by the way,” Myka says, handing HG a package wrapped in plain red wrapping paper.
HG opens the package to reveal a bright red sweater with a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat on it.
“It was the most ridiculous one in the hotel gift shop,” Myka says.
“It’s brilliant,” HG says. “You know I’ll never wear it.”
Myka smiles. “We’ll see about that.”
They sit in silence for a moment, and then Myka says, “You know, I know we were only undercover for two days, but it’s going to be weird to stop pretending you’re my wife. I kind of got used to it.”
“We did make a good couple,” HG says. “It seems a shame to stop.”
Myka laughs weakly, because she knows HG’s comment has to be a joke, even if, at least from Myka’s point of view, it does seem a shame.
“I’m serious,” HG says. “I think we shouldn’t stop.”
“I think if we keep pretending to be married, our coworkers will catch on pretty quickly,” Myka says.
“And when did I say anything about pretending?” HG says.
“Okay, just to be clear, you’re not actually proposing, right?” Myka says. “I mean, I know in the past you’ve done things that aren’t exactly, well, logical, but we can’t just get married.”
“No, but we could keep being a couple. In case I’m not being clear, which clearly I’m not, I’m asking you out,” HG says.
“Oh,” Myka says, slowly trying to process what just happened. “Yeah, that, um, that would be good.”
HG smiles. “Then, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.”
Myka smiles back. “I can’t think of a better way to spend Christmas.”
