Author's Note: Guys, I promise that On the Mend is still a priority, but, seriously, this little thing just keeps popping into my head, and I can't get rid of it. I'm hoping that typing some of it out will get my muse back on track, but Bering&Wells is just destroying my focus on everything. I'm not even sure if I like this one, yet. Let me know what you think.

Helena's first day of classes had, thus far, not gone as smoothly as she'd hoped.

Though, admittedly, she was sure that a lot of it was credited to the fact that she didn't actually want to be there, and while she'd hoped for the best, Helena really hadn't expected much of anything at all. She supposed that it hadn't been all that bad, in retrospect, but she'd felt rushed and clumsy since morning, and there had been more than one hurdle for her to overcome throughout the course of the day.

Obstacle One: Christina's socks seemed to have burrowed into the ground, or had managed some other means of escaping the terror that today was quite evidently destined to be, because she'd searched for thirty minutes for a matching set, and had unhappily submitted to allowing the girl to sport a mismatched pair.

"Mummy, it's alright!" The five-year-old reassured happily, emerging from her drawer with a light blue sock sporting some odd looking bird that, had anyone thought to ask Helena, would clearly have been ill-suited for the real world; those eyes were far too large to have survived natural selection, and its feel far too small.

But Helena had fought against that thought more than once, with the mantra of "it's a bloody sock" chanting through her mind, and after discerning that the small sock was not folded into its partner, she allowed an exasperated laugh at her daughter before she moved to lift Christina from the stool that she'd set in front of her dresser.

"But I wanted to help!" Christina objected, squirming from Helena's hold and seating herself cross-legged on the bed with a huff.

"You, my love," Helena began, placing her hands on her hips, "can help by eating the breakfast that's waiting on you downstairs. Go on," she encouraged, gesturing toward the door. "Pancakes."

Christina frowned and folded her arms stubbornly across her chest, regarding her mother with narrowed eyes. "Chocolate chips?" She inquired skeptically.

"Oh, certainly," Helena confirmed cheerily. It wouldn't do for Christina to know that she was anxious about the day. "And," she paused for dramatic effect, struggling against a grin as her daughter's little arms collapsed to her sides to grip the edge of the bed as she eagerly shifted forward, "I do believe there's a strawberry milkshake – but that just might be on reserve for another, better behaved little girl… Perhaps she'll come to collect it while we find you a sock, hm?"

"You can find the sock, Mummy!" Christina declared, leaping from the mattress and landing on quick, steady feet. "I'm afraid I have breakfast to get to."

"If you insist, darling," Helena smiled, and caught the girl in her arms for a quick kiss to her cheek.

Christina giggled and hugged her little hands around Helena's neck before tearing away and performing an odd coordination of graceful movements as she danced from the room.

"Now, where have those bloody socks gotten off to?" Helena sighed to the vacant room.

And ten minutes later, Helena resignedly snatched the light blue sock with the goofy looking bird and plucked another light blue sock of a slightly different shade – this one with butterflies – from the dresser.

"It'll do," she huffed, and parted for the kitchen.

Obstacle Two: the nanny had been late. She'd apologized profusely, of course, and Helena had gritted her teeth and smiled through some excuse about a traffic incident on the highway, all while mentally condemning poor Sophie to all sorts of excruciating pains that unguardedly emerged from her imagination.

"Sophie, darling, that's perfectly alright – but I'm running a bit late this morning, and I've really got to be going," Helena announced, assuring the late twenty-something that it was a forgivable offense.

"Of course," Sophie nodded, blonde straight locks shifting over her shoulders as she turned bright blue eyes in her daughter's direction. "Hi, Miss Christina," she greeted warmly. "We're going to have fun while your mother's gone, aren't we?"

Christina looked momentarily doubtful, because – though they'd performed a trial run for a few hours last week, where Helena took a spa day and anxiously fiddled with her cell phone the entire time – Sophie was a new presence in her life, and Christina had suffered enough changes in her short lifetime to know that she wasn't often fond of them.

"Of course you will," Helena confirmed with a confidence that she didn't quite feel, but scrounged up for Christina's benefit. "Be good for Sophie, love," Helena instructed pointedly. "And I'll be home by five."

"Five?" Christina inquired, and Helena knew, in the furrowing of tiny brows and the crinkle of a small forehead, what question came next. "When is five, Mummy?"

"Five," Helena said, kneeling to match her daughter's height, "is when the longer hand is on the twelve, and the short hand rests on five. I'm sure that Sophie can show you, hm?"

"'Kay," Christina sighed and folded her arms around Helena's neck for the second time that morning. "I love you, Mummy."

"And I, you, my girl," Helena promised, heart warming and eyes, inexplicably, watering. Oh, she was very much dreading this day. She would have remained entrenched in this tiny, perfect human's affections until the earth's end, if it could be done. "Always," she whispered into wide ringlets of curls.

"Come on, Christina," Sophie said, touching the girl's shoulder and casting a knowing, sympathetic look in Helena's direction. "I think I saw The Little Mermaid in your cabinet the last time I was here, didn't I?"

"Oh!" Christina exclaimed, wriggling from Helena's grasp. "Yes! Mummy bought me the second one, too! Can we watch them, Sophie? Please?"

But Sophie, of course, had already been informed about Christina's fascination with the Disney films, and Helena appreciated that she took the care to remember the small detail about her little girl. So she'd stood and straightened her back with a grateful smile in Sophie's direction, snagged her car keys from her purse, and shoved them into the ignition of her Prius before she could spare another thought to cowering back into the comfort of her home.

Obstacle Three: Helena couldn't find her building; the University of Colorado was miniscule in comparison to Cambridge, and Helena was certain that she could manage to work her way around within a week or so – but she was well aware that wandering from building to building in order to acquaint herself was not possible, given her crunch for time, and she was lost (quite literally) until she could do so.

"Bollocks," Helena murmured, unfolding the brochure she'd retrieved from admissions the day before, and sweeping an aggravated hand through her hair as she tried to read the map at the back.

Abbreviated letters denoted the buildings on the diagram, and the letters were indicated on a key to the right of the page, which declared the full titles of the buildings – but Helena was sure that there had to be a simpler way, because flitting her eyes to and fro simply took up more time than she could afford.

She was fairly certain that she was in Lot Four, which meant that she was near the academic side of campus – but from there she was flummoxed. She huffed agitatedly and attempted to take a look around, to perhaps see if she couldn't better find her path without the damn map.

"Are you lost?" A soft voice inquired from over her shoulder.

And despite that every fiber of Helena's being desired to proudly reject the very notion, she knew that she had best accept this young woman's not-quite-offer to help if she had any hope of arriving on time. So, she whirled around and flashed a charming grin, instead. "I'm afraid I just might be," she laughed airily.

But she felt a bit staggered, really, because while the woman's voice had been melodic and sweet, Helena hadn't quite expected that she would be so… pretty. And though it had taken a moment for her mind to produce the word, 'pretty' was exactly the proper adjective for this girl. Tight, dark brown curls hung down over her shoulders, and a wide, lovely mouth offered a tentative, comforting smile that Helena (God help her) nearly sank beneath. Warm and bright green eyes evaluated Helena as Helena's dark brown did the same, each of the pair sizing the other up and making little attempt to mask it.

"Helena Wells," Helena pronounced finally – though, she suspected that the moment hadn't stretched nearly as long as it had felt – and she proffered her hand.

"Myka Bering," the woman introduced, shuffling her bag on her shoulder and shoving the two books that she held into one arm and tucking them against her chest so that she could accept Helena's palm with slender fingers that felt hot as they gripped against the back of Helena's hand. "Where are you headed?" The woman – Myka, Helena corrected – asked.

"Columbine," Helena stated with a wry smile.

"Me too," Myka shared as the corners of her mouth lifted into a small, returning smile. "I can show you, if you want?"

"That would be lovely," Helena said appreciatively, and observed as the girl gestured across the street and took a step forward, indicating their traveling direction. "I'm not certain I would've managed to find it on my own, and I'm afraid my class begins in ten minutes," Helena said, falling into step at Myka's side only after a long, appreciative glance up the elegant length of Myka's legs.

Nine minutes, actually, but she felt much better about potentially being tardy now that she had such kind company. Which was ridiculous, of course, because first impressions were crucial and she was determined to succeed at this university in Colorado Springs – but tardiness seemed to be in Helena's nature, so perhaps showing up late for class would simply prepare her professor for the days to come.

Besides, Helena was certain it could be in her good interest to make a fine impression upon Myka Bering, as well.

"It's not too far," Myka promised. "It's easier to get there from Lot Seven," she acknowledged, "but it's almost always full."

"I suspect that might be the lot I spent twenty minutes searching around earlier, then," Helena chuckled. "Thank goodness I've found such a generous guide," she lauded, and was less-than-shocked when it emerged flirtatiously, despite that she'd had no intention of it.

Helena observed as Myka's cheeks flushed pink, and she allowed a private, satisfied smirk to sidle across her mouth. "It's really not a problem," Myka dismissed. "Like I said, I was going there, anyway."

Helena hummed. "Well, I thank you, nevertheless. This is quite a bit of a change for me," she winked at Myka.

"I'd imagine that it is," Myka laughed, and when Helena lifted a curious brow, Myka shrugged and offered a grin. "The accent isn't very subtle, you know. And given that you're lost, I'm kind of assuming you haven't been here long – at least not in Colorado."

"You assume correctly," Helena chuckled. "I only arrived in Colorado a month ago. My first years of university were spent at Cambridge."

"Seriously?" Myka's brows lifted. "That must've been great," she breathed, and Helena could detect no small amount of wistfulness.

"It was… an experience," Helena settled.

"How did you end up here?" Myka questioned, and Helena couldn't help but to find the curious tilt of her head endearing.

"My brother is in Denver," Helena replied, despite that it wasn't the entire truth of it. "Some research, I've gathered, for his newest novel. I suppose I could've attended university there, but I fear there's only so close I can remain to my family without going mad."

Something in Myka's eyes darkened, for less than a full second, by Helena's count – but a moment later it had gone, and she nodded. "Yeah, I get that," she said with a comforting smile. "Anyway, this is Columbine," Myka told her, indicating the door with a wave of her free hand. "I have to get to class, too, but – here," she said, shuffling her bag around to her front and pulling the zip open, snagging the corner of a piece of paper from a notebook and a pen from the side pocket. It took some rearranging, and Myka had to set her books down on the small coffee table that hovered off to the side of the entrance, but she scribbled her phone number down, and somewhat clumsily shoved the paper at Helena, and finished, "You can call me if you need anything, or get lost or something. It's probably not easy – not knowing anyone around here," and she gestured vaguely with her hand to indicate the campus – perhaps the city. Helena wasn't sure that it mattered. "It couldn't hurt to have a friend around, right?" She smiled shyly, wrangling a stray curl from her cheek and bending it behind the curve of her ear.

"Indeed," Helena agreed, accepting the bit of paper between her thumb and forefingers. Impulsively – and Helena mentally rolled her eyes at the thought, because, really, did she ever do anything that wasn't impulsive? – she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Myka's cheek. "Thank you, Myka, darling. I'll be forever in your debt."

Myka's cheeks burned red, but she shook her head, and managed, "I already told you it wasn't a problem. Good luck in your first class, okay?"

"Alright," Helena chuckled. "And you, as well."

"Thanks," Myka called over her shoulder, hurrying into the building.

Helena allowed herself a moment to admire the lithe form as it strode away, before she dutifully followed after and took a left at the sign that indicated her classroom's direction.

"Righty-ho, then," she muttered to herself as she twisted the handle to the door. "Once more unto the breach," she said wryly.

Obstacle Four: Helena had never handled Christina's tears as efficiently as she felt she should. Though it was the prerogative of every mother to keep their child happy, Helena felt particularly guilty for the changes that had been inflicted upon her daughter's life, and guiltier at the fact that Christina had to suffer the consequences of them.

Her first and second classes had gone quite well, if Helena had to say – despite the rocky start that she'd gotten off to that morning. She'd wandered through campus for some time to become better acclimated to her surroundings; though Myka Bering had been very sweet and accommodating, Helena would not stand for another directional incident to occur.

When her mobile began to vibrate in her back pocket, she frowned – and the frown only deepened upon reading 'Home' across the caller ID.

"Sophie, darling, is everything alright?"

"Mummy," Christina breathed, relieved. "When are you coming home?" She rushed to inquire.

"Oh, my love, what's wrong?" Helena sighed, seating herself on a bench and offering a small smile at the boy on the opposite end.

"I miss you," Christina sniffled, and Helena didn't need to be told that her cheeks were painted red as tears leaked from the corner of her eyes.

"Well, I miss you, as well, my girl," Helena attempted to keep her tone pleased. "But aren't you having a good time with Sophie?"

"I guess," Christina reluctantly acknowledged. "But she won't cut the corners off my sandwich!" She exclaimed, quite undignified, if Helena could say so herself.

"You know better, Christina," Helena admonished. "You eat the crusts, as well, if you want the sandwich. Sophie knows that, too, which is why she wouldn't cut them off for you. You oughtn't try to trick her, darling."

Christina huffed, and was quiet and sullen for a long moment on the other end. "Sorry, Mummy," she sighed finally.

"Mm," Helena hummed her forgiveness. "And you'll apologize to Sophie, as well?"

"Yes," Christina blew, dissatisfied.

"Good girl," Helena smiled.

"When will you be home, Mummy?" Christina asked again.

"At five, just as I told you this morning," Helena laughed. "Now, be a good sport and return the phone to the kitchen. Ask Sophie if she would like to play a game with you, hm?"

"Okay," Christina agreed unhappily. "I miss you, Mummy."

"I miss you too, Christina," Helena tried to keep the longing sigh from her voice. "I'll be home in a while."

"'Kay," Christina said firmly, and Helena could all but hear the decisive nod that accompanied the tone. "Buh-bye, Mummy."

"Goodbye, darling," Helena returned, and listened for the click that signaled her daughter had hung up the line.

There was nothing more that she could do, honestly. Helena had to do this; she needed to complete her courses, and this was the easiest way that it could be done. Christina simply needed time to adjust, and she wouldn't do so if Helena rushed home the way that she so desired. So, she set off to find a coffee shop to relax for a bit before her next class.

Obstacle Five: There was no decent tea anywhere on this bloody campus, Helena was certain of it. Instead of attempting – because, really, Americans were renowned for making terrible tea, and she simply would not bother to try a cup of it that had been scrounged up by a young college student who'd probably never had proper tea in their life – she'd settled for a cup of coffee and a scone.

Helena attempted a polite smile at the barista as she prepared her latte, but Helena wasn't sure that it erupted as more than a grimace and was merely met with kind eyes in return. She did enjoy coffee, but she undoubtedly preferred tea. But, she supposed this would do. She was simply grouchy, following the call from Christina, and was in no mood fit for company.

When she accepted the paper cup, she mustered up another, more genuine smile and thanked the dark-skinned, curly-haired student on the opposite end of the bar, before settling into a relatively isolated booth in the corner, where she could observe the comings and goings of the place.

After several moments of that, however, and several gulps of her beverage, Helena pulled a textbook from her bag and ducked her head over it, hoping to accomplish some of her work so that she could spend more time with Christina the following day. She had two hours before her next class was set to begin, and it was located just around the corner – Helena had checked – so she had a bit of time to spare.

Her gaze lifted some twenty minutes later.

"Hi, Leena," Myka's soft voice somehow carried through the room and into Helena's booth. It wasn't very busy, Helena conceded, but it wasn't terribly quiet, either.

"Myka!" The darker woman – apparently called Leena – exclaimed happily. "Hi!"

"How'd your first day go?" Myka asked, as Leena began to prepare a drink for her that had not been asked for; Helena suspected Myka came here often. Or Leena knew her quite well. "You're done for the day, right?"

"Yes," Leena nodded, curls bouncing around her face. "It was alright. How was yours?"

Helena watched as Myka's nose scrunched adorably, and with an amused smile she leaned back into the cushion of her seat to unabashedly observe. "Busy," Myka settled with a sigh. "Are you going to Pete's later?"

"I don't think I have a choice," Leena laughed. "He offered to carry me from work, if I was too tired. I'd feel badly if I didn't go."

"Okay," Myka chuckled. "But call me if you need a ride. Pete's way too lazy to carry you, especially after practice."

"I will," Leena promised. "Take care of yourself until then, Myka," she said, reaching over the counter to hug her arm gently. "I don't know how you do it all, but I know you're very busy."

"Thanks, Leena," Myka smiled tiredly, accepting the cup of coffee from the ledge and turning away from her friend.

She then promptly caught Helena's gaze, and visibly brightened with a wide grin.

Goodness, Helena thought. That woman certainly is disarming, isn't she?

But she smiled languorously and gestured to the seat across from her, and with several long strides, Myka met her at the table and slid into the booth.

"Hi," Myka smiled warmly.

"Hello," Helena greeted with a chuckle.

"How's your day been?" Myka inquired earnestly, settling her bag into the corner and cupping her hands around her drink.

Dreadful, Helena thought.

"Could be worse, I suppose," Helena shrugged instead. "And yours?"

Myka rolled her eyes. "This is the first chance I've had to sit still all day."

"You've a busy schedule?"

Myka laughed. "Yeah," she nodded, tucking that same lost curl from earlier behind her ear. "Classical Lit, Biology, and British Lit this morning. How about you?"

"Nothing quite so interesting, I'm afraid," Helena smiled. "Mechanical engineering major," she informed with a chuckle. "The only class I've held much interest in thus far has been Physics."

"I have a friend majoring in computer engineering," Myka informed. "She's busy most of the time, but I think half of it is because she has all of these personal projects she can't put down. I think she hacked into the FBI database last year," Myka said thoughtfully, and then rolled her eyes. "I think her reasoning was, 'because I'm awesome and I can.'"

Helena laughed freely. "Your friend sounds like a character I'd very much like to meet."

"Maybe," Myka grinned. "But I think she might die with excitement over another engineering major who's that good at Physics," Myka waved two fingers in the direction of Helena's notebook.

"Now, Miss Bering," Helena leaned forward as if to disclose a secret, and playfully inquired, "who ever said I was any good at it at all?"

"I did," Myka said breezily. "I took that class last year. Your answers are all right, so far, by the way."

Helena was already aware of that. The professor was working to establish a baseline for how knowledgeable the students were on the subject, and the initial questions had been rather simple. But Myka had been seated for fewer than five minutes, and had scarcely been afforded a glimpse at the work.

"Oh?" Helena inquired, leaning back in her seat and lifting a curious brow.

Myka nodded. Then, bashfully, "I have a photographic memory."

"How delightful!" Helena grinned, shifting eagerly. "And what's your major, then?"

"I'm a double major," Myka stated shyly. "Pre-med and criminal justice."

"And you've found time to incorporate English electives?" Helena's brows shot up, impressed.

"Trying for an English minor," Myka smiled. "I should have the time, if I can get into all the classes that I've planned, but we'll see if that works out, I guess. I mostly just love books, so the English classes are more for pleasure than anything."

"My, you're a busy woman," Helena shook her head. "I've no idea how you find the time."

"It wouldn't be so bad," Myka huffed, "except that I have work, too. My boss is pretty great about it, though, and works around my schedule. He lets me snag a few hours between classes, as well as in the morning and afternoons."

Helena frowned. "And weekends?"

"I have Sundays off," Myka shrugged. "And I'm off by six in the evenings, so it's not too terrible."

"Admirable, indeed," Helena murmured.

"You're one to talk," Myka chuckled, gesturing once more to Helena's things. "Mechanical engineering isn't the easiest major, you know?"

"I'm afraid I have little interest in other subjects," Helena laughed. "Though, I wouldn't object to a few English electives, as well. I've a rather distinct fondness for literature."

And the blow that Helena's insides suffered was dramatic and nearly physical as she watched Myka's eyes spark into life, flashing between shades of spring grass and the yellowing leaves of early autumn, eagerly shifting forward.

It was half an hour of discussion, then – on Byron, Dickens, Verne… any author that sprang to mind, really, and the look of shock and admiration (and quite possibly envy) that Myka expressed when Helena confessed to be a distant descendant of H.G. Wells had Helena grappling for what felt like her sanity.

Myka was quite brilliant, and very evidently shared Helena's love for the great authors of the past. And when she reluctantly admitted that she had to get to work, Helena somehow mustered the courage to arrange for coffee on Sunday. Myka had flushed prettily, and agreed.

Helena would have to discuss it with Sophie, but the woman had promised that she was quite flexible with her schedule, so Helena left the time vaguely at 'in the afternoon; I'll give you a ring' and Myka had nodded and waved a goodbye.

And Helena didn't need to recount a memory for her final obstacle of the day; she missed the other woman's company.

But, she thought, carding her fingers through Christina's curls that evening as her daughter recounted the tale of her day, this is better. And it was. Truly, it was, and her heart had been aching all day long to return home to this little girl.

But Myka Bering was lovely company. Helena was not so ignorant to deny the pull of attraction she had felt to the curly-haired woman. She was stunning, after all – and those legs of hers stretched on for days. That her mind was quick and sharp, and quite clearly put to use was a surprising and pleasing addition, as far as Helena was concerned.

Christina was her priority – always. But it was nice to have an adult to share time with. And it seemed that Myka had enjoyed spending time with her, as well, which was all for the better. It would be nice to have a friend.

"Mummy," Christina pouted, jumbling around in Helena's arms until she could face her with crossed arms and demand, "are you listening?"

Helena lifted a haughty brow, and challengingly replied, "Yes."

"What did I say?" Christina ordered skeptically.

"You found a frog by the creek and named him Fred," Helena returned promptly, attempting to maintain a solemn expression – but how could she? This girl was so bloody stubborn and vivacious and demanding and hers. This little, beautiful girl was hers, and the very idea of that – even five years after giving birth and sobbing her love into a head of dark locks bundled in pink – floored her.

"Yes!" Christina exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air theatrically. "And Sophie wouldn't let me take him home," she huffed dramatically. "Mummy, can't I have a frog?"

"You absolutely may not," Helena scrunched her nose up and brushed it back and forth across Christina's, scrubbing away the frown until it morphed into free laugh. "They belong outside, darling. I'm sure that you can visit Fred tomorrow."

"He might not be there," Christina pointed out.

"Perhaps he'll be with his friends," Helena smiled. "And you wouldn't want to take him from his friends, would you?"

"No," Christina puffed reluctantly, but then brightened soon after. "Can I see my friends tomorrow, Mummy? Alex and Kiera?"

"We'll see, darling," Helena hedged, but she immediately wanted to arrange it. Christina had made fast friends with several children at the park two weeks ago, and she and the children's mother had exchanged numbers and promised to work out a play date. Helena wanted to give her that, since she'd had to express such a tearful goodbye with her other friends in Cambridge. "But, for now, it's time for bed."

"But I don't want – "

"Oh, yes, I know, darling," Helena crooned with false sympathy. "But if we go and play with Alex and Kiera tomorrow, you don't want to have to take a nap, do you?"

Christina's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I won't have to nap?" She searched.

"Not if you don't want to, love," Helena affirmed, though she was sure that if they did go to the park, her Christina would collapse with exhaustion in the car before they arrived home.

"Fine," Christina conceded, scrambling beneath the blankets and tucking them beneath her chin, effectively covering her pink elephant pajamas. "Will you read to me, Mummy?"

"Of course, darling," Helena confirmed, reaching onto the nightstand for a book that Charles had gifted to Christina the previous Christmas.

And as Christina's head hovered over Helena's heart, sighing softly into the night, Helena was certain that no other child was quite so perfect as hers.