Imagine Bering and Wells as musicians. Helena is a piano player who suffer's from a creative block and can't play anymore and Myka is an acutal music therapist. Helena's friend sees her as the last hope, but HG doesn't even want to meet her until Myka makes her own way into Helena's life.

Well, with slight changes about it but this is basically it. Did someone get the joke about 'The Therapist' and 'The Pianist'? No?

Thanks to The-social-recluse to read over this. :)

Myka Bering walked into the lobby of the apartment tower. She looked at the fancy furniture and the portier behind the reception and sighed. It was like she had expected it. Addressing the portier she said "Myka Bering, I have an appointment with Helena Wells." He nodded. "Follow me. Her apartment has its own lift."

Of course it has. Myka sighed.

She was a musical therapist on the way to her first interview with her new patient. Helena Wells was a famous pianist and composer. The woman was not only famous for her wonderful compositions and her beautiful concerts she was also infamous for being extremely eccentric, rich and rude. The therapist had watched Wells' career with interest but annoyance. It was the typical bored brilliant genius syndrome. Until that point of music history when the brilliant musician had a car accident. No one had seen the pianist since this incident three years ago. Helena Wells' daughter died that day and with her the brilliant piano concerts all around the world. After some time Wells had started composing again, a lot actually. Composition after composition had been thrown into the world, but the beautiful woman's face wasn't seen. One year ago, the compositions had stopped and the world that admired piano music held its breath since then, waiting.

Myka Bering knew she was the fourth therapist in a row, she had read their reports, no one stayed longer than a few sessions with the broken pianist, and they didn't get very much information out of her. Helena Wells suffered from a creative block. She was unable to play piano and she was unable to compose.

The musical therapist was called by Wells' manager a few days ago. Myka knew that she wasn't their first choice, after three different therapists it was quite obvious. She was pretty new in having high ranked clients. 'Musical therapist' meant that her therapy included music and not that she only had patients who were musicians.

So far, Myka had made herself a picture of Helena Wells by studying her whole biography and her compositions. She even had watched poor Youtube videos of her concerts before the accident. It was quite sad that there was no information about what happened in her life afterwards but the therapist was confirmed in her assumption about the pianist's eccentric character. And this lobby and the fact that Helena Wells's apartment had its own lift confirmed her assumption the pianist was also very rich and about all the side effects that came with this trait.

Sighing, Myka followed the portier to the lift.

Inside, he rang a bell and a female voice emerged from the intercom. It was lacking the British accent Wells showed in interviews so the therapist assumed it wasn't her.

"Myka Bering for Helena Wells." The portier stated. After a short "Oh right, let her in." from the voice he nodded, pressed a key into the armature and wished her a nice day. Then he left Myka alone in the lift. She swallowed while watching the lift doors close.

In her office, Helena Wells sat behind her desk and scribbled on a paper. Her chin rested on her right hand while she listened to her friend Claudia, who currently described her last concert to her. The young girl was the lead guitarist of some famous rock band with a silly name that Helena always forgot. She was clearly desinterested in Claudia's description and her current activity showed this perfectly.

"Dude, what are you doing?" The redhead asked and took her feet from the couch. The pianist looked up and smirked. She always disliked the way how Claudia disregarded the proper use of furniture.

"I'm drawing." The pianist answered.

"Yeah, I see that. But why? I'm currently talking to you." The guitarist was indignant.

"It's practice for my piano play." Helena lied easily.

"And I should believe that?"

"Well, many pianists are ambidextrous." The explanation made Claudia roll her eyes.

"And I'm not. So with training my left hand I actually increase my piano skills."

Her friend rolled her eyes again. "Of couse you are." She sighed. "You know what would also increase your piano skills? Playing piano." The girl pointed at the grande piano to her right.

With a forced smile, Helena hold up her paper. "Do you see this? This is a caricature of you annoying me." A poorly drawn stick figure was placed on similar poorly drawn couch with her feet placed on it in the same way Claudia just had shown.

"You are hilarious." The redhead commented.

Helena smirked in reaction, took a ball made of foam material and kneaded it to train her left hand.

The door opened and the pianist's personal assistant walked in, serving Helena tea.

"Leena!" Claudia smiled. "It's so nice to see you. I would like to request one of your perfectly made ice teas, if you don't mind."

Leena smiled at the redhead. "Firstly, I'm no servant, Claudia. If you want ice tea, the kitchen is the left door in the hall. Secondly, I think it's the best if you go home now, H.G.'s therapist has arrived."

This announcement caused a groan from the pianist. "Another one? I'm going to kill Charles."

The assistant shook her head. "I think killing your brother and manager is not the best idea considering your current problems." She made attempt to walk around the desk. "Let me help you into the living ro-"

Helena leaned into the opposite direction and continued kneading her ball. "No."

Claudia and Leena shook their heads in unison. "H.G." The redhead spoke. "I know you want to solve this problem on your own but apparently you can't."

"Yes." The assistant agreed. "Therapy isn't a bad thing. You need help, H.G."

The addressed woman looked very intensively at her foam ball while kneading it. "What is he like?"

"She." Leena stated.

The pianist snorted and faked interest. "What is she like?"

"Well, I didn't talk very much to her, because as requested I sent her into Charles' office first. Which is a completely idiotic idea, if you ask me. I think you should choose your therapist yourself."

With a groan of displeasure Leena catched the foam ball H.G. had just thrown at her. The pianist smiled brightly and stated. "Right handed."

With a quick move, Leena threw the ball back to the woman behind the desk. The pianist tried to catch the ball only using her left hand. Her assistant pursed her lips when the ball fell to the ground. She made her way around the desk to pick it up and hand it to her boss while continuing her speech.

"Myka Bering is tall, brunette, thirty something. She tried to hide the fact that she rolled her eyes when I introduced myself as your personal assistant."

Helena took the ball "She did?" She asked with a sudden interest in her voice.

"Yes. Also she seems to be a person who likes things put neatly and in order. I saw her briefcase. While waiting, she clearly judged your taste in furniture."

Claudia laughed while catching the ball H.G. just had thrown at her. "She seems to dislike your fancy stuff."

"Left handed." The pianist explained. "But you just catched the ball with your right hand to confuse me."

"Yepp." The redhead grinned and threw back. "And I actually catched that thing with my weak hand." She laughed as the ball again landed on the ground.

Helena looked at the ball and frowned in thought. "Leena, tell her we have to postpone our appointment." Smiling, she looked at her assistant.

"But-"

"I don't think I'm paying you for objections, am I? Tell her I just remembered..." The pianist bit her lip. "I have an important golf play. Yes. Tell her I have to play golf with my fancy famous musician friends."

Claudia's eyes widened. "H.G., that's not only the biggest lie ever been told, that's actually pretty rude."

The composer pointed her finger at her friend. "Right?"

Leena rolled her eyes, picking the ball from the ground for a second time.

Myka walked out of Charles Wells' office. With a deep sigh she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She had found out that Helena Wells' manager was also her brother who bathed in his sister's fame and wealth. After three minutes of talking with him the therapist had completely analysed Charles' character and was disgusted. He didn't seem to be interested very much in actually helping his sister. It was more that he wanted to have her back behind the piano quickly as possible so his normal life in the upper class of music industry could go on.

"It would make me really happy if you could fix her so much that she can play a concert. Maybe with small audience. Or at least that she leaves this apartment. I want to show the world that my sister is alright and happy." Those were the sentences that displeased Myka most.

"Mr. Wells." She had asked. "Do you play an instrument?"

"Yeah, actually I play the clarinet, but I wasn't as brilliant as Helena and I seem to have more a thing for money than for music."

Myka hadn't been surprised at all. "Well, maybe you know that playing an instrument has to come from your heart if you want to make it sound beautiful. And if you want to compose and play it perfectly you also have to practice. From these files I know Miss Wells hasn't touched a piano for over a year..."

"Yeah, but she has the grande piano in her office and is free to plunk on it if she's in the mood." Charles had answered.

"I'm sure she appreciates this. But, Mr. Wells, with all due respect, I think your sister has a long way to walk to even be able to press those keys on her piano again. I don't think we can talk in the near future about actually playing music on them, never mind giving concerts."

"Well, that's why I called you, right?"

The whole conversation had been this frustrating and Myka hoped that her patient wasn't as stressing as her brother. As Myka closed Charles Wells' door behind her, Miss Wells' personal assistant showed up.

"Miss Bering." She softly said but her eyes spoke for her.

"Let me guess." Myka snorted. "She just has remembered another appointment and she's ever so sorry."

"Golf." The assistant stated and Myka nodded knowingly. "You seem to have made your homework."

"Yes." Myka looked at her watch. "I actually have expected this behaviour. This is why I have a meeting for lunch with a friend in 15 minutes."

The woman showed her a surprised look.

"This is normal avoidance behaviour. I'm sorry, what was your name again?" The therapist asked.

"You can call me Leena."

"That's nice. I'm Myka and I think I'm going to play Miss Wells' game for a while. Did she give you an alternative date for our appointment?" Myka asked.

"Yes, actually. She wants to see you this Friday, if you're free." Leena smiled apologetically.

The brunette opened her briefcase and pulled out a calendar to open it. "In the afternoon?"

"Yes. 3 pm would be perfect for Miss Wells." Was the answer.

"And let me guess again. She doesn't want to come into my office but I have to visit her?"

"Miss Wells dislikes to leave her apartment." Leena sighed. "It's complicated."

Myka smiled. "I didn't expect anything else."

"Who?" Pete asked, his mouth filled with the half of his sandwich. Myka scrunched her nose.

"Helena Wells."

"Who?" He asked again and the therapist sighed.

"The famous pianist and composer? Currently one of the best pianists in the world? Helena Wells? Pete, I'm making money with my piano and you are my best friend without knowing anything about music?"

"You didn't mind until now." He swallowed and took a big gulp from his coke.

"Yeah, you're right. Okay, she's a famous pianist. That means she plays piano. A piano is an instrument. It has black and white buttons which are called 'keys'. You can make music with it." Myka leaned back in her chair and sighed.

"I can actually play the piano!" Pete replied indignantly.

"I wouldn't call 'All my little ducks' actual playing, Pete." The therapist grinned.

"So she's your new patient?" Her friend asked.

"Not yet. We had an appointment for a first interview but she refused to see me."

"Oh."

"Exactly. I even think she made her excuse for this up." Myka leaned on her elbows on the table. "I think there's something going on. Nobody has seen her since her car accident."

"Maybe she's hiding something." Pete assumed.

"Like what?"

"All her skin could be burned and her face melted." He made a gesture with spreaded fingers over his face.

"Seriously? You are an idiot."

"It was just a guess." Pete took another bite from his sandwich. "So she refused to see you?"

"Yeah."

"And she's still alive?" The man faked shock.

"What should I have done? Walk into her office and make her see me?" Myka threw her head back in desperation.

"That's exactly something I usually would expect from you, Mykes. Go visit her again and then kick her piano playing ass."

On Friday at 2:58 pm Myka patiently waited in the lift to reach Helena Wells' apartment. She had thought this through and now she was ready to play. With her briefcase hold tight and mental pep talk, she stepped quickly into the apartment.

Leena stood in front of her with a softened facial expression. "Myka..." She started and the therapist knew.

"As I expected, Leena. She's still playing her game. What is it this time? Polo with the president?" Myka pursed her lips.

"Oh, she would like this explanation. But no. She said she has a meeting for tennis with an old friend."

The therapist sighed. "Of course." She looked down the hall. "And her office is this way?"

"Indeed, but I wouldn't..."

"Yeah, but I do." Myka straightened her shoulders and marched towards the office door, Leena right behind her.

You can do this, Bering. She's just a posh Brit with a major depression who likes to boss people around and who's testing you. She plays a game and you are going to change her rules.

The pep talk helped. With a quick motion, she caused the office doors to fly open while marching in.

"Miss Wells." She said and looked at her watch. "I assume we have an appointment for a first interview. My name is Myka Bering and I think you can play tennis another time."

An object flew into her direction and dropping her briefcase, Myka catched it.

"Ambidextrous." A surprised voice with a British accent said. "Do you play the piano, Mrs. Bering?"

The therapist looked at the black haired woman behind the office desk. Two dark brown eyes bored deeply into hers. The Brit showed her something Myka would describe as a proud but surprised smirk.

"Miss Bering, and yes. I play piano and guitar." The therapist threw the ball back at Helena. "Right handed, but you're currently training your left one." She proclaimed.

The componist raised an eyebrow and pointed at the couch next to the entrance in a distance to her own desk. "Take a seat."

Myka did like she was told. Being actually able to see this woman in person had stolen her thunder. But she was in her future patient's office and this was all that mattered.

"So, Miss Bering." Helena Wells said leaning on her elbows, her hands folded. "Do you appreciate a drink?"

"Well, a coffee would be nice." Myka answered.

The pianist looked at Leena who still stood in the doorway, unsure if the situation was safe or not.

"Leena, a coffee for Miss Bering would be nice. I think you can place it in the living room. We will come over, won't we, Miss Bering?" Helena was now addressing the therapist and Myka shrugged. "Why not?"

"And a scotch for me. Thanks, darling." The composer spoke.

"Of course, H.G." Leena nodded and disappeared. Myka wasn't the tiniest bit surprised that the woman in front of her preferred to drink scotch during a therapy session.

She felt those dark eyes mustering her again and looked at the Brit. "Something wrong?"

"You're my therapist, Miss Bering. Tell me."

Myka snorted. "That was funny. Miss Wells, I think we should actually get to know each other better before I can actually tell wha-"

"What a quite interesting way to express this, Miss Bering." Helena purred, her eyes never leaving the therapist's.

The American swallowed hard and lowered her gaze.

"So." The pianist said in a completely different, enthusiastic tone of voice. "To the living room then."

Myka waited for Miss Wells to stand up, but instead, the pianist reached down and a clicking noise was heard from under the table. Helena's chair rolled back. Myka now was able to really see in what kind of chair Helena Wells was sitting. With a smirk, the pianist spun the wheels of her wheelchair to appear from behind the table.

"Are you alright, Miss Bering? You tend to stare when confused."

"Well... um... I didn't know... I mean... nobody informed me about the fact..." Myka stuttered.

"That I'm paraplegic? Well, I am." The Brit chuckled. "And I guess Charles brought you here to make me play that thing again." Helena pointed at her grande piano. "And apparently I do need my legs for the pedals, so I'm quite interested in how you want to manage this." She smirked while watching the therapist lower her gaze.

"In case I do also need them for your therapy sessions, Miss Bering, I have to tell you that they're paralyzed, I'm sorry."

Myka snorted.

"Are you laughing?" Helena asked surprised.

"Yes, because I just thought about your made up excuses to delay our appointments." Myka allowed herself to look directly into the other woman's eyes. The pianist's face was unreadable for her.

"Ah, I see. Well, yes, that was indeed meant to be funny." Helena pointed at her left leg. "I wouldn't be able to do any of those sports with these, would I? But, Miss Bering, let me assure you everything else is working just fine." With a slight smile, the pianist watched the therapist blush. "To the living room, then." She said.

"There are ways, you know." Myka stated while sipping her coffee. They sat in the big living room of the pianist's apartment. Leena had brought them their beverages. Helena emptied her scotch and looked questioningly at her. "I fear I don't know the current subject of our conversation, Miss Bering."

"I'm talking about playing the piano without using your feet." The therapist explained.

"Ah, I understand. Yes. Light barriers, headrests, pillows for the back lean of chairs, my brother bought me everything. As you maybe recognised, I'm quite rich and my brother is quite interested to make me play again. It's very inconvenient." The Brit played with the empty glass in her hands.

"In 2008 they invented a new technic with a remote control you can hide in your mouth. You handle it with your teeth by biting on it. How much pedal you use for your playing depends on how hard you bite down on the device." Myka explained.

"You do know rather a lot about playing piano while being in the wheel chair, Miss Bering." Helena replied with a surprised tone of voice.

"Well, I like to be informed as much as possible about the things that are related to my job." The American placed her empty mug on the coffee table.

"Another one?" The pianist asked.

"No thank you."

"Well, Miss Bering, you should know that I'm as much informed about those devices as you." Helena smirked but then lowered her gaze with a frown. "That's not the real problem." She sighed. "I suffer from a creative block. A big one. Being unable to actually play is not caused by my body but my mind. And this is why you're here."

"Yes." Myka sat up in her armchair and pulled out a notepad.

Later, after Helena and Myka said goodbye at the lift, Leena showed up again. She squinted her eyes and looked at her boss.

"You like her." She stated knowingly.

Helena moved back from the lift and turned her wheelchair to face her personal assistant. "I can't work with her." She simply said.

"What?" Leena's jaw dropped to her chest. "H.G., that's the first therapist you didn't yell at after a few minutes. I can see that you like her. It's impossible that you reject her. You can't reject her. She's perfect."

"No." The pianist replied and passed her to enter her office. "You don't understand. I can't work with her because I like her. How do you call this? A conflict of interests?"

In surprise, Leena turned around and watched the composer's back. She slightly shook her head, smiling.