myka's wife

Pete: Look. I said I was sorry.

Myka: Be honest. That’s the real reason you pulled the Tesla on him.

Helena: I sincerely regret my lack of follow-through.

Pete: All right. Okay. Relax. You two wouldn’t even be together if it wasn’t for me, so I think a little thanks is in order.

Helena: How’s that now?

Myka: Yes, Pete. Please enlighten us.

Pete: If I hadn’t completely and repeatedly grossed H.G. out, she might have fallen in love with me, and then you’d really be SOL.

Helena: What is eso el?

Pete: Single. Old. Lesbians.

Helena looks to Myka confused.

Myka: I’m sure that made sense in your mind.

Helena: Why would I be with you if I were a—?

Myka: No, no. You were right.

Myka puts a hand on Helena’s arm and shakes her head.

Myka: We have got to stop asking.

Helena: But I have to know why his brain refuses to work.

Myka: If you take it apart, there’s no putting it back together.

Helena: It is its own curiosity.

Myka: Side effects? Being excruciatingly annoying.

Helena: Burping into the mouths of others.

Myka: Thinking Helena would ever fall in love with you.

Pete: Yeah, yeah. Say your little quips. But tonight, when you two are in bed--

Myka: Please stop.

Pete: --doing your little hanky-panky--

Myka: He's not stopping.

Helena pats Myka's hand.

Helena: I know, dear.

Pete: --I just want you to remember exactly how you got there.

Helena: Because she finds my attempts at self-destruction and global annihilation charming?

Myka: Because I drove eight hours to Boone and dragged her Victorian ass home after I received a wedding invitation through Evite?

Helena: Will you never let that go?

Myka: I will never let that nor your Victorian ass go.

Helena: We don't have to keep saying that.

Pete: And who is the one that encouraged you, Myka, to keep fighting for you, Victorian Ass?

Helena sighs, defeated.

Pete: Every. Single. Time.

Helena: Oh, are we not counting the time you tried to kill my conscience by smashing the Janus Coin with a rock?

Pete points at Helena.

Pete: We are not.

When Pete walks out of the room it is with a finger tapping against his temple.

Pete: Think about it.

Later that night, when Myka is trying to touch everything and do anything but think about it…

Myka: I’m sorry.

Helena: What is wrong with you, woman?

Myka: Pete is in my head.

Helena: You’re thinking about Peter? Right now?

Myka: No. I’m trying not to think about him. But he's in my head. He did that on purpose.

Helena flops back on her side of the bed and sighs.

Helena: You can’t just stop touching me when you’re in the middle of touching me.

Myka: I’m sorry. I know. I’ll make it up to you. I just… need to soak my brain in cognitive bleach for a little bit.

Myka stares up at the ceiling.

Several moments of quiet pass.

Myka: Helena.

Helena: Abandoner.

Myka smiles.

Myka: Do you remember your cavorite room?

Helena: Do I remember the thing I invented, built with my own hands, and actually used to thrust you and Peter up onto the ceiling while I made my first of many grand get aways?

Myka: Saying thrust and Peter in the same sentence is not helping anything.

Helena: Yes, I remember the room. I have not actually been infected by whatever affliction Peter suffers from.

Myka: Saying Peter at all is not helping anything.

Helena: What about the room, my love?

Myka: Did you ever -- I mean, back then, with the company you kept -- did you ever... you know?

Helena laughs, incredulous.

Helena: The company I kept? Those were mostly Charles' trysts.

Myka: Mostly.

Helena turns her head to Myka.

Helena: Why do you sound so scandalized? Did I ever what?

Myka points up to the ceiling.

Helena turns her head toward the ceiling being pointed to.

Then tilts her head inquisitively as she catches on.

Helena: The logistics were a bit difficult to parse out.

Myka gasps with renewed excitement.

Myka: I love a good puzzle.

Helena: Have you not tired of being hoisted into the sky? It happens just about every other week at this point.

Myka: And yet all we do while we're up there is panic.

Helena: Sometimes some of us enjoy the view.

Helena winks.

Myka: Or pass out.

Myka scrunches her nose and blinks -- yes, with both eyes -- back at Helena.

Helena: This is exactly why you are over there, and I am over here.

Myka: You know, that could have been us. If you'd stuck around for a while.

Helena: A quickie on the ceiling? I'd only just met you.

Myka: You kissed Pete after knowing him for five minutes!

Helena props herself up on her elbow.

Helena: Aha! You are still mad about it.

Myka sighs.

Helena: Peter was right.

She slows.

Helena: And now I can't stop thinking about that.

Myka: I'm not mad about it. I just don't care to be reminded.

Helena: I only made out with him to get what I wanted from him at the time, which was essentially your attention.

Myka arches a brow at Helena.

Helena: And yes, I see how that also doesn't help anything.

Myka: It also makes it sound like Pete was right.

They fall quiet again.

Helena: I think our brains may require more bleach.

For just a little while.

Helena moves her hand into Myka's.

Their fingers curl together.

Helena: Let's go to London.

Myka squints up at Helena.

Helena: And give it a whirl.

Myka twists her lips to the side.

Helena: Clothes on the floor.

Myka arches a brow.

Helena: Bodies on the ceiling.

Myka's smile grows.

Myka: I'm sure we can parse it out.

Myka rolls over to Helena, pushing her back down to the bed.

Helena: Is that a yes on the trip to London?

Myka: Yes. London. Cavorite ceilings. Me, you. A scandal of bare ankles. Absolutely all of that, yes.

Helena: I'll have Claudia book the flight first thing--

Myka: But first here. In our bed. No logistics. No parsing.

Myka kisses Helena.

Helena: And definitely no talk of Peter being right.

Myka: Helena Bering-Wells.

Myka drops her head and lips down to a bare shoulder.

She huffs out a breath of frustration.

And laughs softly, "Okay, now I'm mad."