One of the best purchases I have made in recent years is a new mattress. Originally, when I moved to Univille, I really didn't have much of a choice in the matter since the mattress came with the bed, and that bed would appear to have been at least 60 years old. Not that it was consistently used throughout that time, but it was still worn and warped in parts. Once I started my third year of working at the Warehouse, I figured a new mattress would be a decent investment to keep me rested and happy.

This mattress is, without a doubt, one of the greatest inventions ever. Forget smartphones, Internet, sliced bread, moveable type: this is it. The top of the mattress is plush with a pillow loop top, it has ventilated foam so I don't wake in a sweat during the middle of the night, it also has pressure point relief which is fantastic after a day of artifact hunting.

There is one feature though that I never thought would matter much since I didn't share the bed with anyone, and a year or so down the road completely forgot what this mattress could do: no motion transfer.

Needless to say, I was pleasantly reminded of this one morning.

Thursday morning.

I don't look at the clock, but judging by the light coming into the room, it's somewhere between five and six in the morning. Even though the clocks were turned forward four days ago, I'm still cranky at the loss of an hour, even if it means that my room is a bit brighter. I remain still in the bed, lying in a comfortable position with my hands wedged under the pillow, blanket pulled up under my chin and legs perfectly outstretched. It might be too early to wake up, but everything about being in this bed, curled up, is wonderful.

As lovely as it might be, it takes every ounce of me to prevent my brain from negative thoughts. That is, specifically negative thoughts about events of the past year: cancer, Leena's death, the astrolabe, constant fear of death-by-artifact. Despite all of these memories floating through my head, I keep reminding myself how fortunate I am to now be healthy, to have my little family here (with new members, thanks to Abigail), to only sparingly having death-by-artifact moments since I've been feeling better.

Sadly, there is one thought that replays over in my mind again and again: Helena's not here. It takes a lot more for me to get the thought of her living in Boone with Nate and Adelaide out of my mind. I know that she doesn't belong there, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise. In the end, I am not the one that truly needs the convincing that Helena is where she needs to be; it's ultimately up to her to decide her own path. If her path is the suburbs, a boyfriend/significant other/partner and a child, then that is the path for her.

It's not my decision and I certainly don't have any claim to advise her on that. There are always those times though that I wish to just call her up and blatantly demand, "What on earth are you doing?" I could never be so bold as to do that though. It was hard enough when Pete and I were there that I called her out on it, and she did take offence pretty quickly.

There are also those times, those saddest of times, where I look in the mirror and tell myself that we don't need her here. We're all here because the Warehouse likes us, it brought all of us together, only a handful have fallen at the wayside over the past couple of years. We are a perfectly good family without her.

As I lie in bed, trying not to think of subjects and people that distress me, I curl into myself even more, pull the blankets up tighter and adjust my head on the pillow one more time. The smallest, most pathetic whimper escapes my lips when I think about her just then and I shut my eyes. I don't think I can fall back asleep now after my mind wandered through all of the good and bad thoughts, so I flip over onto my other side that faces the encroaching morning light.

One eye peeks out to assess the sunlight to find that the room is now mostly visible. It's still dark, but it's easier to make out the outlines of my window-adjacent chair. It's perfectly peaceful and calming.

Hold on.

Wait.

Is that- ?

There's something not quite right about this picture. My view of the chair by the window is obstructed by something; something next to me. I quickly open my eyes again to take in my surroundings and see someone right beside me on the bed. Before I can identify the unknown bedfellow, I recoil for a second and then pull in when I fully recognize the person there next to me, on her side facing me.

Helena's not completely asleep, her eyes are lazy and sleepy, looking at me. The corners of her mouth are ever-so slightly upturned as she dozes in and out of sleep. My eyes are equally lazy and sleepy, but my heart is racing at the sight of her there.

"What's going on?" I mutter once I relax.

Helena pauses, repositioning her head on the pillow next to me and shifting her body closer to mine. Her hand moves from the pillow to her neck where she swipes away a couple stray strands of hair, then returns it underneath her pillow. Her position mimics my own.

"I left."

I say nothing and she doesn't elaborate. It's way too early in the morning to be thinking about these sorts of things. All I know is that Helena is here, in bed, softly breathing and looking straight at me. She doesn't get any closer, nor does she say anything. Hell, I'm not sure what to say to her right now. Part of me fears ripping into her, yelling and screaming about her absence; the other part wants to pull her in, hold her and countlessly thank her for being here.

"Don't go to work in the morning." she finally says. It's a subdued statement, quiet and sounds completely strange falling from her lips. I've never known Helena to shirk responsibility, but there is something desperate and pitiful about her request.

"I won't."

I sigh and push the blankets off me so I can roll over to find my cell phone on the nightstand. It takes a moment for me to find it, fumbling around and knocking into the water bottle and alarm clock. I go send Artie (and Pete) brief texts saying that I'm not feeling well and am taking a sick day. The phone returns to its charger on the nightstand and I turn off the alarm that was scheduled to wake me up in an hour. The blankets return to their proper place around my shoulders; my hands go underneath the pillow to stay warm. Helena moves closer to the middle of the bed and I fall asleep. I think she does too.

As much as I would absolutely love to say that I positively got the best rest ever sleeping besides Helena, I don't. Far from it.

Yes, I fairly quickly fall back asleep, but I eventually wake from a peaceful two-hour rest to find Helena stretching her legs out and cracking her knees and ankles underneath the covers. I open my eyes to watch her do this and, as casually as possible, clear my throat.

"Helena?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Stretching."

"You woke me up." It comes out harsher than I intended.

"Apologies."

"It's alright, just go back to- are you even tired?"

"Yes, but my legs ache a bit from the car ride."

I pause with the questions, realizing that she drove all the way out here alone, in the middle of the night. That trip can be quite the drive on one's own, especially those desolate patches in South Dakota. Not that I would know firsthand, just recalling the few times I plugged a certain address into Google Maps for a suggested driving route, mileage and time.

Helena adjusts her position on the bed and no longer remains facing toward me. She curls up on her side, looking out the window at the 7:30 am sunlight coming into the room.

A solid sleep cycle later, I wake up to another sound. I'm lucky I got in those uninterrupted hours, but still I feel a little bit groggy. It's not like me (and I'm guessing not like Helena) to be sleeping in so late, especially on a weekday. The sound I first hear this time round is the toilet flushing and the faucet running. Okay, understandable noises, I suppose. Moments later, Helena comes out of the bathroom and tumbles back into bed. She sees me watching her as she walks from the bathroom door to the bed wearing some colorful printed pyjama pants and a t-shirt.

The room must be chilly because even without my glasses on I can definitely see-

"I apologize again for waking you."

Huh? Oh yeah.

"No problem, I should be up anyways." I offer, pointing at my alarm clock. Helena reaches forward to pull the blankets up. "Are you cold?"

She scrunches up her nose and looks around for the heater in the room. "I am actually."

I get out of bed and head to the dresser to find a sweatshirt or long-sleeved tee for her to wear. Underneath a pile of well-worn shirts, I come across a dark purple Henley that has certainly seen better days. The sight of one of my favorite college lounge-around items brings a little smile to my face. It's soft, a few holes at the cuffs, a button is missing, regardless it's still one of my favorites. I scurry back to the warmth of the bed and hand the shirt to Helena. It's only when I am getting back into bed that I watch her eyes which are staring at the tight grey boxer briefs I have on. Her eyes go back up to meet mine, and she grins. She immediately sits up, puts on the shirt over her tee, and slinks back under the covers next to me.

"Thanks, my other clothes are still in the car."

"No problem."

"Lovely shorts, by the way."

I chuckle, thinking of the Batman shorts I'm wearing. "Just a silly gift from Pete."

"Do I want to know why Pete bought you men's undergarments?"

"Long story."

We say nothing more or move for about five minutes. Helena burrows her nose under the covers and shivers. I sit up, reaching for the fuzzy blanket at the foot of the bed and place it over her side only.

"Better?" I ask.

"Yes, thank you."

Now that Helena is warmer, and I'm relatively awake (just maybe), I start off.

"You left."

"I did."

"I don't understand, I thought you were happy there, had everything you've ever wanted."

"For a time, perhaps; however, not for the long term."

"But..." I stop and move my hands under the pillow again for warmth, "you had a little girl."

Helena removes her nose from under the blanket so I can see her mouth as she speaks. "Yes, but it was wrong of me to stay there solely for her. It got to the point where I was planning activities, meals, outings and the like without giving a second thought to Nate and what he might want. I did everything for her and her alone. There were several occasions where I nearly forgot he existed aside from going to bed at night and waking up in the morning."

Don't remind me...

"It was so sweet to watch you interact with Adelaide."

Helena smiles. "We had some lovely times."

"And Nate?"

She buries her nose again to keep out the chill. "He was nice, considerate, dependable, just not..."

"...for you." I finish.

"...you." Helena says at the same time.

Once more, we fall silent, simply looking at one another.

"I really wish you had come home with us, Helena." I finally say.

"Me too."

"No, I don't think you know how much I wanted you to be here. You had to make the decision to come back; I didn't want to push you into something you weren't ready for. There were so many times I almost picked up the phone. There were so many times I looked at directions online, trying to figure out if I could make the trip on my own."

Helena looks at me quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "Why couldn't you make the trip on your own?"

A flood of memories replay in my mind, thoughts of telling Pete, surrounded by doctors, needles, tubes and the like protruding from my body. I compose myself as best I can and calmly try to catch my breath so it's not too obvious I'm on the verge of crying. My toes fidget and my hands shift to curling around my own waist under the covers.

"I, uh, I had...cancer."

Helena's body doesn't move, that one smug eyebrow quickly lowers and she takes a deep breath before saying anything else.

"Why didn't-"

"You were bronzed for over a hundred years because of your grief and your guilt. What if- how could I have burdened you with that? How could I? Especially if I'd-"

"You'd have never burdened me, Myka." Helena slowly reaches for my hand clinging to my waist. "You have saved me numerous times; you've always been there when I've needed you."

"And you haven't always been there for me." I snidely add and gruffly push her hand away. "Don't touch me."

Helena immediately recoils, wiping a tear from her eye and then wrapping her own arms around her middle for self-comfort. "Fair enough."

"You abandoned us...abandoned ME!" I shout, breathing heavily after every couple of words. "You left twice. That last time, Pete will tell you, I cried. I cried as we pulled away from that driveway, watching you stand there so sure of yourself and overtly confident that foregoing a life of 'endless wonder' would destroy you in the long run. I cried all the way to the airport. I cried because you weren't sitting there in the back seat because you were too comfy playing house, using some guy just to get to his child, just so you could replace-"

Helena sits up in bed and sternly looks at me. "How dare you bring Christina into this-"

"No, how dare you leave me behind!" I sit up as well, fighting tears and getting angrier every second. "Not after what I went through, what I had to put everyone here through. I didn't have the person I care about most in the entire world with me."

"I didn't know!"

"You didn't even care to ask how we were doing, how I was doing. You never called or e-mailed any of us."

"You never gave me that chance."

"Don't you think you've already used up those chances?"

"You never even told me!"

"No one told you a thing, Helena, because they didn't want you to show up and leave again. Not during a time like that."

She's crying. Really, really crying. Helena has always tried so hard to prove herself. I shouldn't yell at her. She didn't know, I told Pete not to tell anyone what was going on, most of all Helena.

"Hey, I'm..." My voice trails off, watching her cry harder than she did back in Egypt that terrible day. I put my hands around her and hold her as she sobs into my shoulder. Helena grips me and does nothing more than cry. "... sorry." I try tilting the two of us back to lying down on the bed; luckily, she willingly complies and relaxes in my arms.

I gently hold her, stroking her back and doing my best to soothe her, despite me yelling moments earlier. Helena sobs and she doesn't stop. I remind myself that I have cried for her, many times, many hours, more than I ought to have probably. Helena is angled to the side of my chest, one arm tucked underneath the blankets and the other almost holding me down, perfectly placed on my chest, fingers resting underneath my chin. Her head, with now unruly hair, rests by my shoulder. I hold her tightly, I tell her everything will be okay. I tell her over and over that everything will be alright for us. For her. For me. I've never held anyone like this before; no one's ever held me like this. I wonder how I (or is it we?) have instinctually figured out a restful, intimate position without really trying.

"What sort of cancer was it?" she finally asks.

"Ovarian. One of my ovaries was removed." Helena cringes and starts sniffling again. Her hands disappear from my waist and shift lower to my hips, caressing and smoothing over the stretchy fabric of my boxers, feeling for evidence of scars. My breath hitches for a moment when my brain finally computes where her hands are.

"Sorry, does it hurt?" Her hands immediately stray from my body and wrap around herself again as though she's done another action to anger me.

"No, no, no. All better now." I reply as I reach over to her to find her hands to return to my hips. I don't go into detail with her about my recovery, what all of that took from me. Helena's hands willingly let themselves be guided back to my body and remain exactly where I place them: utterly motionless and burning heat through the thin fabric of my shorts. "Besides, this is...nice."

That familiar smile returns and she squeezes my hip. I smile back and close my eyes. "Is there much scarring?"

"No, it was a laparoscopic procedure, so no more than tiny incisions." I pause for a moment, debating whether or not I should- that is, show her. I release my arm from around her neck to pull back the blanket, exposing my midriff. I prop myself up on my elbows so I can gauge how much skin I am going to reveal. Helena gives me a confused look, carefully watching my movements. "See?" I offer. Her lips part when I lift up the thick elastic of my boxer briefs and push it down far enough that she can see the incisions.

Helena runs her fingers over the marks, her fingertips radiate warmth against my cool abdomen. "Those will disappear over time."

I take in the sensation of Helena's slender hand so intimately placed against me. Not that I mind it, of course, but she seems lost in a train of thought with her hand there. "Helena?" I whisper as she strokes the puckered incisions. She shifts her arm, and dips her fingers and palm of her hand a little bit lower. I stop breathing again for a moment when I take in the placement of her hand. "Helena?" I say more firmly and loudly.

Helena finally notices where her hand is and comes out of that temporary trance. "Sorry." She moves her hand up onto my stomach and holds it there, still not breaking contact with my body.

"Are you still tired?" I ask, rubbing my hands over her back. It's strange to feel the fabric of my favorite shirt on someone else, the soft cotton passing by the palms of my hands, trailing over her back. It's equally as strange for me to feel the weight of another person partially on me.

"Only a little. Driving at night certainly take it out of you. The crying as well."

"Hmm." I wordlessly concur. I squirm my hips to get a bit more comfortable. "Again, sorry I yelled at you."

"It's alright," she says and then lifts her head to look into my eyes. "I do wish you'd have told me."

"I wanted to," I begin, "I wanted to pick up that phone so badly some nights, but didn't want to get hurt again." Helena puts her head back down on my shoulder, still sniffling. She then bends her left leg to entwine with my own and her leg props directly between my thighs. That tiny bit of pressure combined with her proximity makes my head spin, my breathing become more shallow, and my heartbeat increase.

Her fingers trace the soft v of my neck over and over. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"I know you don't want to." I try to keep my voice balanced, not distracted by her fingers, or the fact that she's pressing against me. "Helena, why...why did you leave Wisconsin?"

"Rather a loaded question, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, but why? Why now?"

"Perhaps I've realized what I have been looking for has been in front of me."

"And what is that?"

"This eclectic little family of misfits who knows and accepts without question that H.G. Wells is actually a woman, looks amazing at 147, and fancies tinkering."

Helena can't see it, but I smile and hold her a bit tighter. I take a deep breath, stroking her back and listening to her slowly inhale and exhale, sniffling every 30 seconds. "Is that all?"

The room becomes silent, my hands stay still, Helena doesn't sniffle. She says nothing and presses her arms upwards so she can look me in the eye. In order to lean up, she presses herself even harder against me with her legs, and her arm between my breasts pushes down so she can gain her balance. "Perhaps I've also come to realize that I have been a complete arse."

"You're not a 'complete arse,' Helena."

"I am because I come all the way back here, crawl into bed next to you, fall asleep, put on your exceptionally comfy old clothes, and then don't even tell you how much I love you until now."

I'm grinning, genuine ear-to-ear grinning at the beautiful woman holding onto me. "You're so difficult." I say with a sigh. "How long has it taken for you to say that to me?"

"Far too long."

"You're less of an ass now that you've admitted it." I pull Helena on top of me, placing her arms by my neck and both her legs between mine. She doesn't protest, merely makes herself more comfortable against me. "However, you're still a total ass for telling Nate that we were roommates." I say as I press her entirely against my body, holding her restfully against me.