#I love drawing Sally with her head split open to where you can see her brain but I stuck at drawing the split :(((

[rainbow-sparks]

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Fairytale (Ficmas #8 Solangelo)

My solangelo boys are back!! This is set with them as mortals but like that’s as much as I thought about it, there’s really noting specific to know! Anyways my two boys had to make an appearance!

It wasn’t that Nico hated Christmas.

The holiday himself he could actually get on board with. Presents, family, all that crap. He even liked all the lights and sparkly things. Not that he’d ever admit to that part, but he did. It was the chaos he despised. People everywhere, everyone suddenly losing the concept of personal space. Nico was not on board with that.

So his dread for one of the busiest times of the year somehow gave the impression that he hated all Christmas related things. And his friends being, well being his friends meant that their personal mission was to make him love Christmas.

“Hey Nico!” Jason yelled, cranking up the volume of the radio. “This is like the best Christmas song, you can’t say you don’t like this!”

Fairytale of New York was playing. Nico actually loved this song. Cursing and getting to call it festive? Sign him up. He did however, have  a reputation to uphold.

“Try not to burst those eardrums.” He drawled, rolling his eyes. “We don't need you deaf as well as blind.” He said, referencing Jason’s new glasses.

“Ha ha ha.” Jason said sarcastically, but he turned the volume down a little. Nico looked away so he could hide his smile.

“You know, the first Christmas trees can actually be traced back to ancient Greece and Egypt.” Annabeth chattered as Nico accompanied her on their quest to find the star in Sally Jackson’s attic. 

“Yeah?” He prompted. He didn’t have to say much with Annabeth, but he liked that, they had an easy relationship. She always understood him, but she never flaunted it, just made sure he knew she was always there for him.

“Mhm,” She continued, tongue poking out as she dug through one box. “Although the trees like we know them today began in Germany in the 1500’s.”

“Huh.” Nico said. A gold point dug into his hand and after the initial quick draw back of his arm, he peered into the box and carefully pulled out the delicate decoration.

“Got it.” 

Annabeth looked up and grinned. “Amazing. I need to get away from all this dust.”

Nico just nodded his agreement, and followed her back down to the warm rooms below.

“Hey Nico, wanna help me make cookies?” Percy called from the kitchen, already putting on his blue apron.

Nico wandered into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter, stealing some chocolate chips. “No, but I’ll watch.”

Percy snatched the chocolate away from him. “Watch does not mean eat. I can’t make chocolate chip cookies if you eat all the chocolate chips.”

Nico shrugged. “Have you tired?” He asked, managing to take back the chips. “Because there’s really only one way to find out.”

Percy ended up smashing a chocolate bar. Nico enjoyed some very good chocolate chips.

“Here’s your one Nico!” Piper called, throwing him a very ugly and very itchy Christmas jumper. 

Nico looked at it’s offensively obnoxious colours and flashing lights and raised an eyebrow at Piper, looking at her right in the eye.

“Do you really think I’m going to wear this?”

Piper shook her head, chuckling. “Not at all. But it was worth a shot.”

Nico quirked a small smile at that. He could respect her attempt at least.

The doorbell rang and Nico’s heart stuttered. They were all staying at the Jackson’s for a couple of days and there was only one person who hadn’t arrived yet. Leo smiled at Piper and Nico ignored it, getting up and going straight to the door, seeing a blur of gold through the little fogged window. He threw the door open, and there was Will, a bag over his shoulder, a smile splitting his face from ear to ear.

“Hey Sunshine.” He drawled. Nico Helped him throw his rucksack on the floor, pulling the other boy into his arms.

“Miss me?” Will laughed as Nico tightened his grip around his waist. 

“No.” Nico scoffed, but he placed a kiss to the place where Will’s shoulder met his neck, right under where Nico’s lips rested.

Will pulled back, his long musician's fingers cupping Nico’s jaw as bright blue met deep brown.

“Well I sure missed you.”

Nico rolled his eyes, but leaned down so he could finally kiss his boyfriend. Will’s nose was cold where it nudged against Nico’s own, but his lips were warm and Nico just wanted to melt into him.

“Hey Will?” Leo asked, poking his head out of the living room. “It looks like you’ve got something on your face.”

Nico pulled away, turning slowly to glare at Leo.

“Hey Mr Mechanic?” Nico asked, his voice pleasant. “Don’t forget that I know where you sleep.”

Leo’s face paled and he vanished once more, Will bursting out laughing.

“Alright darlin’ are we going to go in or is this as much as the house I’ll be seeing for the duration of our stay?”

Nico turned back to look at Will, his arm still held tightly around his boyfriend's waist.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love it when you’re sarcastic?”

Will smirked, leaning in to press one more kiss to Nico’s lips.

“Once or twice.”

“Well I love it.”

“And I love you.”

Nico smiled, and this time he didn’t hide it from anyone. “I love you too.” He kissed Will on the cheek then grabbed his bag for him, leading him into the living room where everyone else waited.

Jason played Fairytale of New York again and Nico stooped down a little to rest his chin on Will’s shoulder as Will leaned back against him.

“I love this song.” Will hummed, beginning to sing along. His energy was infectious and soon almost everyone was half singing - half shouting the lyrics.

“When you first took my hand on that cold Christmas Eve, you promised me Broadway was waiting for me.”

Will turned in Nico’s hold to loop his arms loosely around his neck. 

“You were handsome!” Percy shouted.

“You were pretty!” Will continued, looking at Nico expectantly. Nico bit his lip and rolled his eyes, but tilted his head in acquiescence.

“Queen of New York City!”

Piper let out a whoop and Nico laughed, joining in for the rest of the song.

“Hey did you know it was the ancient Greeks and Egyptians who had the first Christmas trees?” Will asked as everyone was settling down to watch a movie.

Nico could practically hear Annabeth’s eyes lighting up.

“Yes!” She enthused as Nico rested his head on Will’s shoulder. “But the tree’s like we know them weren’t until the 16th century in Germany.”

“Yeah but they were decorated with fruit and nuts and stuff.” Nico said, half yawning as he pulled a blanket over himself and Will. He could feel everyone’s gaze on him and he looked up a little self consciously.

“What? I know things.”

Annabeth just smiled knowingly at him threading her fingers through Percy’s inky black hair.

“Okay guys, we need to take a picture of us all in our jumpers!” Piper said excitedly, already wearing hers and setting up the timer on the camera as even Sally and Paul came in for the picture.

“Oh we’re all matching!” Will enthused, holding up Nico’s as his was already on. “Come on sweetheart, just for a minute?”

Nico flipped off Leo, laughing in the corner as he shrugged on the ridiculous sweater.

“You’re so lucky I love you.” He muttered to Will as Piper wrapped an arm around his shoulders, Jason on her other side.

Will kissed his cheek. “Oh I know.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Sally yelled from the kitchen, the houses’ temporary inhabitants scattered throughout all the different rules.

“Oh my god yes.” Nico said, standing up from the couch, pulling Will up with him. “I would happily eat Sally’s food for the rest of my life.”

“What about McDonalds?” Will teased, tugging Nico’s hand playfully. Nico paused in the doorway, looking back at Will.

“Don’t make me choose.” He begged, hoping he could do that thing with his eyes that usually made people cave. Will was not people however.

“Hey Sunshine, you started this. Now Sally’s or McDonalds?”

Nico looked at the floor, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “Sally’s.” He grumbled. “But only for her cake.”

“Oh of course. God forbid there was actually a healthy reason in there.” Will teased, stepping closer, then glancing up.

“Hey look.” He whispered.

Nico did, spotting the red and green dangling from the doorframe.

“Mistletoe. Remind me not to walk through any door at the same time as Leo.”

Will tapped his arm lightly. “Hey!”

Nico grinned and looked back down, Will’s face only inches away from his own.

“Sorry babe.” He glanced back upwards and shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to ruin the festivities.” He reasoned.

“Of course not.” Will agreed, smiling and leaning closer until their lips brushed.

“Love you.” Nico breathed, just before sealing their lips properly, sliding his fingers into Will’s gorgeous curls.

“Hey guys, dinner!” Sally called once more, and Nico pulled away regretfully.

“Come on, food and then we can get back to this.”

Will beamed and followed him away from the mistletoe.

“Hey Neeks?” Nico glanced over.

“Yeah?”

“Love you too.”

All in all, Nico reasoned, Christmas really wasn’t all that bad.

[scribeofmorpheus]

As Fate Would Have It Part 9 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Catch Up Here!

A/N: Okay so... there isn’t much Bucky in this chapter, but there is a twist! I’m kinda rushing to wrap up the first half of this fic so we can get to winter soldier goodness.  There are about three chapters left set during the 1940′s. I’m excited to see how I transition this series to a different decade!

Remember: Reader’s alias is Helen Rushman but everyone calls you Elle! You are also an agent with the Red Room (Black Widow’s) who is acting as a double agent within Hydra.

Words: 3006

Warnings: Angst?! Pfft, I don’t even know!

Sally paced about on the floors of the diner waiting for Steve to walk through. She had been giddy all day and had a hard time keeping her excitement from showing. She damn near spooked Elle this morning when she dashed out of the apartment, stating not wanting to be late as the reason. Today wasn't even her shift. Sally was elegantly dressed in a blue blouse and a black skirt, with a red scarf tied around her slender neck to make a bit of a statement.

Grumbling behind her was Hal, who was wiping down his hands still bubbly with dish soap on his apron as he appeared from behind the kitchen counter.

"Sal, stop pacing about. You're making the rest of the customers anxious," he placed his hand on the small of her back. Sal showed no sign of registering the contact. She looked behind his shoulder and stared condescendingly at the three customers at the Diner this early. She cocked an eyebrow at him, he shrugged it off.

"Sorry, Hun. I just… I'm a little excited I could burst!" She admitted.

Hal directed her to a booth in the back, "You're scheming something aren't you?"

"Well if I told you then you'd be in on it too… And we know how bad you are at keeping secrets, Hal," she teased.

"Sal," he shook his head. Just then Steve walked into the diner, the silent chime of the bell drawing their attention to the door. Sally waved enthusiastically at Steve who blushed ay her warm energy. Hal gave a simple nod of acknowledgement.

"Steve, honey, it's great to see you," Sal gave him a warm hug, her eyebrows raising slightly when she saw Steve's shirt. It said Goldie's Boxing Gym on it. Sally couldn't imagine someone as small as Steve in a gym, let alone boxing. "Shoo, Hal. Before the kitchen catches fire." Hal looked as though he was about to protest but made his way back to the kitchen.

"Hey Sally, it's good to see you. I didn't expect your call last night. It was a nice surp--"

"Yes, yes darlin'. Look what Elle brought home last night," Sally handed Steve the card that she found on the bouquet last night, a large smile plastered on her face. Steve, however, wasn't as thrilled. "What's wrong? Isn't this good news?"

"Bucky told me he went to talk to Elle yesterday, but..."

"But?"

"But he said she was pretty chummy with her boss. That Howard Stark guy who's all over the papers."

Sally's pulled her brows closer together, visibly puzzled by what Steve said, "That… that makes no sense. All she does is complain about how arrogant he is. And she's been nothing but miserable since she and Bucky split. You sure it wasn't a misunderstanding?"

"Maybe," Steve awkwardly massaged the muscles of his neck. "Bucky didn't actually talk to her. He left before..."

"Before he could win her heart back?" Sally's eye lit up like diamonds hanging over a chandelier. "But that's the beauty of it. Elle don't fancy mister Fancy Pants Stark! It's Bucky. I can't explain it, but in all the time I've known her… She's never opened up the way she did when she was with him. It was like in the movies. Like lightnin’ struck or somethin'. Don't you see Hun? We have to get them to realise that they're in love!" Her pitch went squeaky and high at the mention of love.

Steve didn't think he had much say in the matter now, he was sure Sal would find a way to rope him into whatever she had planned so he simply hid a chuckle behind his hands that were obscuring his mouth. Then he slowly remembered something and his eyes drooped a little, "there's just one thing you should know."

***

You had spent the majority of your day dealing with files and sorting out Howard's schedule. It wasn't the most engaging work but you had to admit you did get a kick out of watching Howard one-up any businessmen with a bone to chew. The mailman made his way to your table, pushing the squeaky-wheeled cart in front of him. He handed out a few letters to each secretary’s desk, before reaching yours he had absent-mindedly bumped into a blonde haired secretary who was heading back from the copier. He apologised nervously while they both bent down to pick up the scattered mail. She handed him what few letters she had picked up and gave him a smile that made him blush. She was the secretary that always looked at you like you'd stolen her fiancé from the altar. It was jarring seeing her so charming.

When the mailman reached your desk he handed you a stack of letters which most likely belonged to Mr Stark. You thanked him and began to sort through the mail. Some were letters from his lawyer's office, others undoubtedly from scorned lovers but one letter, in particular, drew your attention. It had no return address or any address of any kind. The only thing of note was a watermark of three letters: S.S.R

Curious, you flipped the envelope over in an effort to see if there was any clue as to where the letter came from. Suddenly Howard originated out of his office with one of his many clients in tow.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he showed the man out. The man, in turn, simply huffed in exasperation and stormed out of the building. Stark looked over at your desk and noticed the envelope in your hand. "Is that for me?"

You cleared your throat and composed yourself, "I wasn't sure, sir. It wasn't addressed to anyone."

You handed him the envelope.

"Don't worry, Doll. I'll deal with this personally," Stark winked at you. "I must say, you're looking rather enchanting today."

When you heard him call you 'Doll' you had to physically restrain yourself from thinking about Bucky. His beautiful blue eyes. That boyish laugh of his and his killer smile… God! You missed him so much! You had to keep yourself from getting lost in your happier memories so you clung onto the realisation that Stark had just flirted with you, rather boldly. In the month you'd been working for him, he was never so upfront with his flirting, usually, he'd be a bit more subtle. Unless… was he trying to distract you from the letter?

Keeping up the rouse, you flirted back, "A girl can try." You gave him that signature plastic smile you had perfected while working in the diner. Stark was a little unruffled by it.

"Well, I'll be in my office if there's anything else."

As Stark retreated into his office you found your hand wondering to the pocket of your skirt where you kept the handkerchief Bucky and Steve had gifted you. You pulled it out of your pocket and graced your thumb over the embroidery with the name Bartlet Barnes. Above the name, you had placed the little pin heirloom from Steve. The memory rushed to you like an unstoppable force.

Bucky and Steve waiting by the bus stop. A bundle of flowers, “Flowers for my best gal'.” Steve telling you the funny story as to why the handkerchief had Bartlet Barnes embroidered on it.

“I was going to get your initials printed on, but I know you don’t like being called Helen, but then that’d make your initials ER and that sounds like Emergency Room, so before I could make up my mind Bucky told the seamstress to stitch in the name Bartlet Barnes, he thought it would be funny,” Steve handed you the handkerchief while Sally played with the single flower in her hand and Bucky looked at you and Steve’s adorable interaction with a big, warm smile. “It’s my way of saying thanks. I figured you were probably running low on handkerchiefs ever since we became… friends.”

The emotions were all too much. You sat up like you'd been pricked by something and made your way to the washrooms, hoping no one noticed the tears welling up around your dolled up face.

"Get a hold of yourself, Y/N" you lectured yourself. It had been so long since you'd spoken your own name, or even heard it, that when you first heard it you barely recognised it.

Suddenly, one of the secretaries walked into the bathroom. Sharp pantsuit, red lipstick, blonde hair. You recognised her, she would constantly stare daggers at you from beneath her thick lashes and blonde eyebrows. Her name was Katherine -Kathy for short.

She looked at you menacingly, as though she had some unresolved issue with you. She began kicking in all the stalls to see if there was anyone in the bathroom. Then, slowly, like a jaguar about to pounce, she walked over to the bathroom door and locked it. Placing her make-up bag on the sink counter.

You turned around, puzzled by her behaviour. You were about to ask her what she was doing when she suddenly attacked you. You dodged her jab, but before you could counter she countered with her own attack. She threw a high kick towards your chin but you blocked it with your arms, throwing her off balance. You were about to kick back when your skirt got in the way. You finally understood why Kathy was always in a pantsuit despite how unflattering it looked. The two of you kept up the dance of parrying, countering and attacking to the point it soon became redundant as none of you had successfully landed a hit.

Breathlessly, you held up your guard around your face, "Kathy, what in the hell are you doing?"

Kathy, who was less winded than you dropped her stance and straightened her suit. Facing the mirror, she began tucking away loose strands of hair back in place before reaching into her pocket to take out a makeup pouch. "You're getting sloppy. An agent should always be ready for anything."

Agent? She knew who you were? But which 'agent' was she referring to, Hydra or Black Widow? Not wanting to give anything away you decided to not say anything. You simply mirrored what she did: put down your guard, straightened your clothing and tucked away loose hair strands.

Kathy dug into her bag and handed you a tube of lipstick, "Here, your lips are looking rather lacking."

Cautiously, you took the lipstick tube. You turned it over and saw no distinguishable markings. You popped open the lid and twisted the lipstick base as far as it would allow. You noticed something strange about the weight of the lipstick. So you pulled the top and it revealed a listening device. And etched into the base was a small insignia: a skull with six tentacles. Hydra. Well, that answered that question.

"A simple conversation would have sufficed you know," you chastised. Kathy snorted.

"Can't have you losing your touch… or your edge," Kathy shot back.

"Why break your cover now? I assume your job wasn't just to monitor Stark. That's my job. Which means you were assigned to monitor me, too."

"You're sharper than you look," Kathy laughed, but there was no emotion in it. "That envelope. The one with the SSR watermark. Hydra wants you to find out what's on it."

"How would Hydra know about the letter if I just found out about it a few minutes ago?"

Kathy looked you dead-square in the eyes, "Because Hydra has eyes and ears everywhere."

Great! You were dealing with another Yelena Belova. God help you. You refrained from rolling your eyes at her power trip.

"SSR, they're the organisation responsible for free--" Kathy squinted her eyes at you, "For taking Dr Erskine from Hydra custody, aren't they?"

"That is correct. And whatever is on that letter is vital intelligence that you need to get your hands on. Stark has a safe in his office hidden behind that hideous painting of a dog. That's where he'd most likely keep it."

"And what is this for?" You held up the lipstick listening device.

"We have reason to believe Stark will be meeting with SSR officials at the Stark Expo Gala this coming Saturday. We need to plant it at the meet."

"How do you expect me to get an invite to the Gala with less than 5 days, let alone get close enough to plant this?"

Kathy chuckled, this time with a hint of amusement, "You're a smart girl. I'm sure you'll figure it out. Hail Hydra." She walked out of the washroom as though nothing had happened.

You heaved a sigh and packed away the lipstick. Your life was beyond complicated at this point.

***

When you got back from work you were surprised to see Sally hovering over the stove while listening to the radio.

"Elle, darlin'!" She chimed while still focusing on the food she was preparing. It smelt like pancakes. Pancakes for dinner? This was certainly unusual.

"Hey, Sal. What's the occasion?" You shrugged off your coat and tossed your shoes to the side.

"What? A girl can't cook now?"

"Cooking is one thing. Cooking pancakes -which are my favourite but coincidentally aren't yours- is suspicious," You arched up a brow as you made your way to the kitchen counter.

Sally finally turned around to meet your eyes, "Fine! You caught me! This is a bribe." She handed you a plate of blueberry pancakes. "Sit. Eat. Let me bribe you!"

You did as she commanded and started chewing away at the fluffy pancakes, "So, why the need to bribe me?"

"You see, a friend and I were plannin’ on goin’ dancin’ this weekend and I was hoping you'd come with."

"Sal, you know how I feel about going out. I don't think I'm up for it so soon after Bucky and I--"

"Yes, but see that's the best part!" You looked at Sally suspiciously while she tried to wipe the grin from her face. "It's not a date. It's just a couple of friends goin’ out on the town is all!"

"Come on!" She waved the spatula around. "You need to start having fun again! While you still have the chance..." her voice got softer, it was almost as though she was lamenting something. Before you could ask her what was wrong the smell of burning pancakes drew her attention. "Oh dear!" she whacked at the smoke with her spatula.

You laughed. It had been a while since you had just spent time together. Not thinking about Hydra or the Widows or… Bucky. Maybe she was right. Maybe this is what you needed.

"Alright. You've successfully bribed me. I'm in."

"Oh, yay! It's on Friday. So don't forget to ask for the day off from your snobby, pin-striped-suit wearing boss okay."

You chuckled again. After dinner you helped Sally clean up then you headed to your room and dialled the number of a take-out restaurant in the yellow pages.

"Steak House Restaurant," Yelena's accentless voice answered.

"Hi, I'd like to place an order." You twirled the Hydra listening device in your hand.

"Will that be the regular?"

"No, House Special."

"Your order will be delivered to you in the next hour. Thank you for calling."

After the phone call, you waited for your food order to arrive. Promptly, one hour later someone rang your doorbell. You shouted to Sal to let her know it was for you, tipped the delivery man who was actually the man you had given the tainted serum package to and went into your room. After unwrapping the takeaway food packaging you found a single receipt with a note scribbled on it.

Tomorrow. 5th Ave. Abandoned Train Yard. 9pm. -YB.

***

You waited until you were sure Sal was asleep. Her odd behaviour earlier had nagged you a little, but you tried to push it aside. You couldn't get distracted. You had a mission to do tonight.

When the clock read 02:00am you sat up from the edge of your bed and made your way out of your apartment using the fire escape. After all, you couldn't very well be seen by any mischievous boyfriends sneaking around the halls after a scandalous night with their girlfriends while in full tactical gear.

When you arrived at Stark Industries almost a whole hour had elapsed. You made your way to the fire exit that you had left wedged open after disabling the alarm when you were on your lunch break. A perk of spending time with the phone operator girls was that they had their offices in the basement. Everything seemed a little too easy. Why wasn't there more security?

When you reached the office floor you unlocked the doors using a hairpin and a screwdriver. Once inside Stark's office you looked behind the hideous painting of a dog for the safe Kathy had informed you about. She had been right, but it didn't help that this was a Stark original. After working on the safe for about ten minutes, you finally cracked it. Inside the safe was nothing more than a piece of paper folded so it could stand upright like a name plaque. All it said was: 'Better luck next time.'

"Shit!" you swore under your breath. You contemplated this being a setup but all evidence pointed to the contrary. Which meant Stark kept this safe for show. "Stark you paranoid bastard."

You should have known things weren't right. Everything had been too easy. And now because you hadn't trusted your instincts, the main alarm went off. It seemed you had overestimated your opponent and underestimated your gut. With haste, you gathered up your tools and closed the safe. Then you put back the painting before opening a window and using your grappling gear to repel down the side of the building. For the rest of the night, until you got to your apartment, you had kept your head in a swivel.

Part 10 is here!

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[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 5

Snow day (again) here in NYC!! I'm letting this go because my mind is already puzzing out ch.6, therefore it must be time. I'll admit, Ch.5 isn't super eventful, but it sets up some important future things, plus marks time passing between Myka's trips to London. Edited 4/13

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

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

//////////////////////

With her weight shifted back on one foot, a finger tapping her lip, Myka stares at her paintings, wrestling with which ones are done and which ones need work. Her progress thus far is passable, but time is of the essence; she has miles to go before her next trip to London.

A buzzy tone breaks her concentration, and she shoots its maker a wary glance; with Claudia and Christina at the movies, and Helena at work; she's not answering if it's anyone else. Around ring number four, the phone spills off the desk, and she lunges to catch it, making a split-second decision to answer when she sees who's calling.

“Abigail.”

“Myka! You picked up!"

“I know. I've emailed...”

“Barely.”

“Sorry.” At a loss for a snappy comeback, Myka pulls a chair forward and sits at her desk.

“Where are you?"

“Brooklyn. Attempting to paint.”

“For that thing?”

“Yeah, the thing.”

An incredible opportunity dropped into her lap at a dinner Amanda dragged her to; a collector put her in touch with a gallery seeking an artist to fill an abruptly vacated spot. It's location, Warsaw, seemed off the beaten path at first, but Amanda had stars in her eyes over the deal; so she said yes without pushing for particulars. As it stands, she's committed to sending all the work she has on hand and, perhaps foolishly, promised even more.

“How’s that going?”

“Slow.” Myka slides an unopened piece of mail from an oversized pile and plucks a pen from a cup.

“Things better with Christina?”

“Getting there.” Myka presses the pen to the envelope and draws a straight line, then traces the pen over it, slowly thickening its form.

“But…”

It has gotten better since the airport, but something changed that day; leaving Helena behind pushed their already tenuous sense of composure over the edge. As they approached the security line, Christina grabbed Helena’s shirt and buried her face in it, crying “I wanna stay with you” on repeat, like a mantra. Helena picked Christina up and held her tight, murmuring comforting phrases in her ear, her eyes watery and wild as they met Myka’s nearby. Myka teared up the longer she held Helena’s gaze, her insides quivering at the desperation in Christina's tone and for a brief moment, she was tempted to stay. Helena must have sensed the sentiment; when she whispered something in Christina's ear and kissed her forehead, Christina went slack, then slid limply down Helena's body as she lowered her to the floor.

“Myka?”

Myka scribbles over her line but doesn’t answer, just stares at messy marks she made.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, but eventually—“

“Yeah..”

The plane ride amplified Christina's discontent, and when they arrived back at the apartment, she dumped her bags in the living room, grabbed Dewy and stormed off to her room without as much of a hello to Claudia. She refused to talk to anyone but Helena, and later, when Myka dared peek in, she lay sprawled across the bed, the phone next to her head, hugging her stuffed horse. Myka entered gingerly and sat next to Christina on the bed, sharing a harrowed glance with Helena on the phone. Helena eventually convinced Christina to talk to Myka again, and Christina nodded off soon after. When Myka reached across to end the call, Helena looked down and shook her head.

“I’m having trouble keeping track of everything.”

“Color me surprised.”

Myka makes a slow, steady circle around her scribble. “Claudia’s annoyed with me.”

“I know. I’ve heard.”

“You've talked to her?”

“Friends talk in regular intervals. It’s thing people do.”

Myka draws circles within her circle around its edges. “No matter how much I plan, something always comes up.” She fills a circle in as densely as she can, black ink shining with a hint of red. “I am good at getting Christina to school on time."

“You have too much on your plate.”

“That’s what Helena said.” Myka stills her pen, her mind filling with their conversation from a few weeks ago. Overtaxed was Helena's exact word, but the sentiment is the same.

“Do you two talk much?”

“Yeah,” Myka answers, without thought, then taps the tip of the pen on her doodle, staring, but not focusing on the marks she made. “Ok, no. Not about the things we should. She talks with Christina daily, but our schedules are off. It’s hard to find times when we’re both on the same wavelength.”

“Hm,” Abigail responds.

“Hm, what?” Myka mumbles, absently flipping over the envelope, her chest tightening as she reads the return address, belonging to the attorneys handling the lawsuit against her previous landlord.

“I’m calculating the exact moment this all blows up in your face.”

“When what blows up in my face?” Myka slips the mail back into the pile instead of opening it; she's vaguely aware of the suit's progress but hasn’t followed up.

“Everything, Myka. Seriously, and I say this with love, you’re in over your head.”

Myka's jaw clenches as she fidgets with the pen. “I have a new intern at work. And Leena’s back next month. Plus Sally's helping with the Italians in London.”

“What about Christina and your show and—”

“I can handle it."

“What if you can't?”

Myka flicks her pen across the table. “Why are you riding my ass?”

“Myka!”

“Sorry. I’m just...” Myka slumps aggressively back in her chair.

“You keep piling new things on top of old ones, and nothing gets resolved."

“You don’t know that.“

“Exactly. Keeping things from the people closest to you is a recipe for disaster.”

"I’m not keeping anything from anyone. It’s work.”

“Maybe you’re taking this 'on the QT' thing a little too seriously."

“The circumstances are…delicate. The stakes are high. I’m not doing anything illegal.”

“Not like Helena was?”

“No,” Myka grunts, a sudden coldness hitting her core at the comparison; her belly then knotting at the thought of viewing Helena in a negative light. She drops her head into a hand, elbow now leaning on the desk, and pushes her hair back, away from her face. “She turned a blind eye when she shouldn’t have, that’s all.”

“And why would she do that?”

Myka's face pinches; she knows the answer, but it doesn’t sit well. “The money?”

“Sound familiar?”

“This is more than that. This is my career.”

“Which career? You move through them like water lately. I heard you drop everything the minute your 'anonymous source’ emails. If Claudia can’t trace them—”

“She reads my emails?” Myka jerks upright, heart racing, fingers digging into the arm of her chair.

“She sees the back end, the data. You do share a network."

“I can’t believe she’d do that.”

“She’s worried. We all are.”

“She shouldn’t do that,” Myka grumbles, shaking her head.

“Does Vanessa know about this deal with Mrs. Frederic?”

“I…can’t tell her.”

“Myka...”

“It’s Mrs. Frederic!”

“Who you know oh-so-well.”

“Why don’t you trust my judgment?”

“Because this isn’t like you, plowing ahead without any thought of consequences. Your decisions have always been measured, thoroughly thought through.”

“I am measured. I have a goal.” Abigail knows Myka would like to be settled in London by Christmas; more than once, she's ignored Abigail's plea that that’s not reasonable.

“Think about where you were last year at this time. Then think about now."

Last year, she was hemming and hawing over moving in with a stranger named Kelly, just to be close to her new job, which was also a point of contention; she wasn’t sure if it was it the right environment for her. She wouldn’t have made a singular move without weighing the pros and cons meticulously, the time for which seems like a luxury right now. That part of her life feels alien, like a different Myka altogether, as does her time spent with Sam.

“Point taken,” Myka says, but offers no further exposition.

“Remember, I’m here for you. Claudia’s here for you. Talk to us if you can’t talk to Helena.”

“Thanks,” Myka says, wishing she’d never picked up the phone. “Could we talk about something else now?”

There's a pause; Myka pictures Abigail grimacing over the change in topic.

“Fine. Tell me about these paintings.”

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

"Myka, I’m stuck.”

Christina sits slumped over her homework, surrounded by couch cushions and textbooks.

“One minute, honey."

Myka's stationed at the bar, typing on her keyboard; her anonymous source sent a motherlode of information, and she needs them to decipher a few details as soon as possible.

“You said that fifteen minutes ago."

“I did?”

Myka glances at the time; not only has it been fifteen minutes but it's now past Christina’s bedtime. She skims her email and, deciding it's in no shape to send, saves her work then folds her laptop closed.

“So, what do we have here,” Myka says, joining Christina on the couch.

“Are you mad at me?” Christina says, not looking up from her homework.

“Why would I be mad?” Myka scoots closer and circles a hand around Christina's back.

“We never spend time together since we visited Mom."

“I went your kempo thingy last week.”

“You came at the end."

“I had a late meeting."

“You’re always working. We never do anything fun anymore."

“I know,” Myka says, the guilt evident in her tone. "But the reason I’m working so hard is so we can see your Mom more."

“Really?” Christina looks up, her eyes filled with interest.

“Yeah."

“Is she ever coming to visit us?"

“Not anytime soon."

Christina's head lowers and her shoulders slump.

“We've talked about this. She wants to but she can’t.” Myka brushes Christina's curls out of her eyes and combs her fingers through her hair, then rests her hand on Christina’s shoulders.

“I miss her."

“I miss her, too.” Myka slides her hand around Christina’s upper arm and pulls her close. “You'll see her in two weeks."

“I know,” Christina says, with little enthusiasm. She wraps her arms around Myka's torso and burrows into her side. “I want her to come here."

“I thought you liked London?"

“It's ok,” Christina says, snuggling even closer. “I want Mom to take me to get pancakes at the restaurant. Or come to my concert.” She sniffles a little, clearly tearing up. "You'll come, won't you?"

Myka tenses, unable to recall the exact date of Christina’s drum recital, but immediately slackens, smoothing down Christina’s hair to hide her unease. She looks towards the calendar on the fridge and squints to make out its contents; she sincerely hopes she's cleared her schedule for that evening.

“Your Mom will be there in spirit. She'll listen in on the phone.”

“What if she’s at work?”

Myka looks towards the fridge again; Helena’s schedule from last week is blocked out, but not this week coming up. She'd best not make promises she can't keep.

“Let’s call her and ask."

“This isn’t a night she tucks me in. She has school in the morning, like me."

One more glance at the calendar, one more point of failure; Christina has Helena’s schedule memorized, but she does not. "I think she’d take a call from us."

Myka clicks a button on the remote, turning the TV on, then grabs her phone and syncs it with the screen. She taps call and crosses her fingers; if she’s lucky, Helena's not covering for someone at the bar.

Relief washes over her when Helena’s face immediately pops up on the screen.

“Hello, loves!”

“Mom!” Christina blurts. She lets go of Myka and sits up.

“You’re up,” Myka adds, a slight question in her tone.

“Studying, I’m afraid. And to what do I owe this wondrous interruption."

"Someone was missing you.” Myka looks over at Christina

"It's past someone's bedtime," Helena says looking at Myka.

"I'll tell you what, why don't you get ready for bed and your Mom can tuck you in. We'll finish your homework in the morning."

“Yay!” Christina chirps then scurries off.

"She's not finished her homework?"

"She asked for help, but I flubbed it. I needed to finish this email before bed time."

"You work too hard."

"I'm trying to—"

Helena holds up a hand. “I’m aware. And I hate to sound like a worried mother but—"

"She needs me there to help."

"She already has one absentee parent."

Myka’s guilt gives her pause; she leaves the subject there.

"Why are you still up?"

“I couldn't sleep. I am studying. You may recall, I added an art history module to stay current with the interests of my love.” Helena grins, pleased with her admission, but her eyes seek Myka’s approval.

“That’s really sweet,” Myka says, smiling crookedly, her chest warming at how smitten she is with this woman in on the screen.

"I do fear I'm becoming a night owl from bar work."

“Do you make it to class ok?"

“Model student, I assure you."

"I didn't mean to sound that way.”

Helena’s sober tone signals she’s ruined the intimate moment; as their eyes lock, Myka's brows draw together, and her lips rise in apology. Much to Myka’s relief, Helena’s face shows more concern than offense.

“You're exhausted. You should rest."

“I just need to finish this—"

“Done!" Christina announces, bounding in front of the TV.

“Let's get you into bed,” Myka says.

“I'll transfer the call to my mobile, and you do the same.”

The TV blacks out and when Helena pops back up, she’s already crossed the room and is searching for a book. Her computer glows bright orange in the distance and Myka tilts her head, squinting at its screen, intrigued by the image, which looks oddly similar to one she was told to view earlier by her anonymous source.

“What were you studying?”

“Marvels of the eighteenth century."

“I think I recognize your—“

The screen abruptly blanks, and Myka looks for Christina, who she finds already walking towards her room, smiling, phone in hand.

Myka shakes off her suspicions; the thought is absurd; the image too blurry to make out, it could easily be anything. She rises and follows Christina into her room, then sits on the bed nad lovingly pulls the covers up and around her shoulders.

“Goodnight, honey,” she says and brushes Christina’s hair out of her eyes, placing a light kiss on her forehead.

“You rest, love,” Helena's voice suggests from Christina’s pillow. “I’ll handle things from here.”

Myka glances at the phone and smiles a tired, warm smile, then stands and turns to leave. As she crosses the room, her mind fills with her interrupted email, but before she exits, Dewy bolts past, nearly tripping her in the process. She watches him bound on top of the bed, turn around once, then hunker down, claiming his portion at the end.

Christina barely notices, already engrossed in Helena’s story. Myka stands and listens in.

“...one of the enormous burnished tentacles came down, gently and precisely, and it’s tip curled about Jack’s waist, and it lifted him up, up, to where a hole opened like a mouth in the hemisphere, and swallowed him."

Myka’s neck hairs bristle at the visual and Christina clutches at her stuffed horse, clearly affected by the scene. Myka doesn't recognize the story, but she's intrigued; Helena's mentioned seeking out new bedtime stories and even asked her for suggestions; she’s not yet managed to pitch in.

Her gaze drifts to Dewy, who is lifting up on his paws, back stretching into a graceful arc, turning circle upon circle before settling into a neat, cozy ball. Christina shimmies closer to the phone, captivated by the rise and fall of Helena's voice shifting effortlessly between characters and the narrator. Though she’s thousands of miles away, Helena’s presence thoroughly fills the room; the scene in front of her tugs at Myka’s heart.

And at that moment, she's hit with a revelation; out of all the hurdles she's jumping, parenting is one at which she genuinely wants to excel. While the work is unfamiliar and often unrelenting, the intense moments of happiness it brings, even in most mundane moments, are like nothing she's ever felt before.

Since story time comes but once a day, work emails can wait; she moves back to the bed and maneuvers herself into the big spoon position behind Christina. Christina sinks into her embrace, and she hugs her close, then closes her eyes, letting the rich, soothing tones of Helena’s voice lull her into a peaceful slumber.

-TBC-