Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Okay – What we're getting now is, yes. It was, in fact, a fire that erupted inside the external tank of the ship. Exactly ninety-eight seconds after it entered the asteroid field. No one is sure what caused the fire which led to the massive explosion, killing all crew member and scientists aboard the space shuttle Deliverance. Taking with them, our last, and only, hope. Once again if you are just tuning in, the CSA space shuttle Deliverance has been destroyed. The final mission to save mankind has failed. The seventy-mile wide asteroid, known commonly as Matilda, is set to collide with earth in exactly three weeks time and we'll be bringing you up to the minute coverage of our countdown to the end of days, along with all your classic rock favorites. This is Q107.2."

***21 DAYS LEFT***

Myka's at the gym and watching the television. Her daily routine hasn't changed much after hearing the news, she just goes… slower. She's alone and has been for a while, but she doesn't mind. The man on the news talks about a worldwide 'State of Emergency' and she wonders exactly what that entails. He says the power will be shut off soon, and she's not all that surprised.

Behind her, a man is curling his arm and groaning and it really just hits her. What's the point of being in shape only to die so soon? When she looks back at him, he winks at her through the mirror, and she turns away again.

She doesn't necessarily know why she still goes to work, but she does. The roads are flooded with cars and people trying to complete their bucket list. It's all one big headache, but she endures. It's not like she has anything better to do. She eventually just ignores the traffic laws, as are most other people, and is slightly surprised when people act like they aren't in an apocalypse. Like she won't lose her job if she doesn't' show up today. The bookstore has been looted, but she still goes because books are her sanctuary and she likes the smell. Of course, all the cash registers have been raided and there are millions of papers everywhere, but the books have been left unscathed. There are still twenties of copies of books that no one will ever get to read and for some reason, she feels satisfaction at the thought, like she has something all to herself. Her boss tells her and three other employees that they can wear whatever they want. And when her co-worker Steve starts babbling about no meaning of life she feels like she's going to be sick. She throws up in the bathroom.

At her apartment, she goes to the mailbox and finds it empty, as usual. It's been empty for three months, and probably not because of the asteroid hurtling towards earth.

"You could have told me that yesterday!" She pauses as a woman rushes past her, a blur of black hair and a suitcase. The other woman is in a hurry to leave her apartment, Myka sees a man standing in the doorway, and he gives Myka a glare, then slams the door.

Myka goes up to her own apartment.

She walks in to the sound of a vacuum and for a moment she panics, but then rounds the corner and sees her. "Hi, Elsa."

"Hi, Miss Bering." Myka's maid is fixing up the Hoover and she smiles at Myka. "Okay I finish." She's old and she has trouble getting back to her feet. "I'm getting older Miss Bering," she says with a chuckle.

"Oh, I didn't, uh, mean to rush you off or anything. You know, Elsa?" The shorter woman keeps smiling at her. "Do you have someplace… to be? I mean, if you want, you could – uh – you could watch TV here, or something. Whatever you like." Myka kind of waves her hands, feeling awkward in her own home.

"Ahh, my kids are waiting."

"Oh right! Of course," Myka responds. "Listen, Elsa. You don't have to come next week. Or ever, if you don't want to. It's okay."

"You firing me –"

"Oh, no, no, no. I just-"

"Is this because I don't watch TV with you?"

"No," Myka says with a small laugh. "No. I, uh, I just thought that… you know, considering…"

Her maid (former maid?) stares at her blankly.

"Nothing – It's fine. Just, come whenever."

Elsa smiles at her brightly, grabbing a bottle behind her and shaking it. "You're out of Windows."

Myka nods. "More Windows. Got it."

Elsa leaves after that, and later that night, Myka finds herself watching the news. It's definitely not that exciting anymore. No late night car chases after robberies. Just a sad sounding news anchor on a national station because all of the local ones have shut down. Apparently, it's the last broadcast of the station, and he's announcing that the last flight went up that day earlier.

All of the shops on her way to work the next day are boarded up. Most of them were shops that she used to frequent, and she drives past them slowly, remembering when there were customers pouring out of the doors and even more waiting to go in. She sits in the parking lot of the book store, alone.

She's deep in thought when Steve lands on her windshield.

***14 DAYS LEFT***

Her finger hovers over the doorbell, but eventually she presses it and the chime sounds way too loud. She feels awkward on the steps, in plain daylight. She feels like she should be doing something to prepare, but she's standing on her friend's doorstep instead. She's about to leave when the door opens to reveal Amanda Lattimer, her friend's wife.

"Myka! You're early," the blonde says, stepping through the doorway to give her a hug. "It's definitely been a while hasn't it?"

"It really has," Myka responds, with forced cheerfulness. Everything feels forced these days. The last time she saw Amanda was when Pete was kicked out of the house and Myka was forced to be the negotiator. Not awkward at all.

As Amanda leads her into the house, an arm wrapped around Myka's shoulders, she gets an idea. "Oh! I almost forgot! Kurt Smollers is coming tonight, I could –"

"No, don't, Amanda. I swear –"

"Don't what?" Pete asks, walking into the kitchen with a hand and mouthful of cookies.

Amanda frowns, and something tells Myka that Pete's love of sweets has been a previous issue. "Please, Pete. Can we please have a few moments where you aren't eating everything in sight?"

The man shrugs, and waits to finish chewing until he can speak. "These are my last days, Amanda." His voice trails up an octave for dramatic effect. "Let a man eat what he wants."

"Please," Amanda says again, rolling her eyes. "A little help with him, Myka."

"Oh no," Pete argues, waving his hands dramatically. "No. Myka is my friend. My friend. You don't get to turn her against me when we're only going to be living for two more weeks." Behind his back, Amanda gives Myka a look that says 'don't mind him'.

"I was thinking that we could set Myka up with Kurt," Amanda sighs after a while.

"Uh, Mykes isn't interested in romantic entanglements."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't want to get set up with one of your gross friends!"

"Well," Amanda whines, her voice rising, "she needs to meet somebody!"

"No, she doesn't! Leave her alone."

"She is alone," Amanda points out. "Look at her."

Myka holds her hands up in innocence. "I'm fine. Really."

Amanda looks at her sadly, her voice turning placating. "No honey, you're not fine. You're gonna die alone. Doesn't that bother you?"

Pete groans, rolling his eyes. "She's not going to die alone. She's going to die with everybody else." He sighs after that, and the three of them go silent at the direction the conversation turned.

"You know what?" Pete asks. "This isn't the ark, Amanda. This is the Titanic, and there isn't a lifeboat in sight." He walks over to Myka, handing her a cookie, and whispers, "Welcome aboard."

Chapter Text

With the party in full swing, Myka decides that parties were never her thing, nor will they ever be her thing, and she really just wants to go home. But when Amanda brings up Kurt Smollers, who is wearing something like a Speedo and just a tie, Myka feels like she was born only to turn this man down. He smiles at her and gives her a most obvious look over, while Amanda pats his shoulder. “Myka, you remember Kurt?”

“Nice to see you again,” Myka forces out, and her smile is anything but flirty. Kurt nods at her appreciatively.

“You’re pretty hot.” Myka wants to throw up so she turns to Amanda, who suddenly disappears and Myka is left alone with this… man.

She looks at his choice of clothing quizzically, and he rushes to explain. “Well, you know, I just figured that I spent my whole life wearing clothes, you know? So I wanted to just wear what I wanted to wear, not what society wanted me to wear.”

Myka fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Great reasoning.”

“Ta-da!” Kurt laughs, with a little bow in her direction.

“It’s, uh, very nice. Lots of skin showing.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, laughing again and staring at Myka with a weird sort of intensity. “You’re funny.”

The dinner isn’t less awkward. Amanda is asking everyone what their end of the world plans are and Myka’s so caught up thinking about her answer that she isn’t really listening to the others. All she catches is a few of Myka and Pete’s mutual friends saying that they want to travel (to avoid her family and visit his), and it’s only when Amanda looks pointedly between Myka and Kurt does Myka even bother to pay attention.

“Kurt,” Amanda says sweetly, and Myka kind of wants to pat Pete on the back, but he’s at the other end of the table engaged in a conversation. “What about your plans for the end of the world?”

“Oh,” Kurt laughs, crumbs of food falling out of his mouth. “I’m totally gonna stay fit, ya know? Gotta keep it up so the ladies have something to look at before we all die. Uhm,” he glances over at Myka, who until then, had been trying to seem very small. “Maybe I’ll spend time with a lucky lady.”

The table is silent, until Kurt kind of points at Myka and tells her that it’s her turn. “Let’s see… What was the question?”

She’s saved from answering as a bottle rocket goes off behind her head, and the table erupts into semi-forced laughter.

//

Myka wanted to be a cop when she was little, but it didn’t work out. Her inner rule-follower is screaming as she watches Pete (previously 10+ years sober) down half a bottle of some unknown liquor. It’s even worse when he gives it to this little girl, chanting ‘chug, chug, chug, chug, chug!’. She stays in the corner, sipping a beer and remembering the good ol’ days in high school when she was dragged to parties just like this. She doesn’t feel the presence of someone next to her until they tap her shoulder.

She jumps, only slightly, to find Todd, smiling at her enthusiastically. “This is great. It’s great, right?”

“Yeah,” she says half-heartedly.

He leans in conspiratorially. “See that babe over there?” He gestures to a woman dancing provocatively, with a glass of wine in her hand. “D’you wanna come home with us tonight?”

She almost spits out her beer. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs. “I mean, Pete told me you were kinda into chicks” – at that, Myka glances at her best friend, who holds a thumbs up in her direction – “and you’re hot. We should totally hook up. It’d be fun.”

Myka shakes her head. Once, twice, before just holding a hand up. “I’m sorry, but no. I’m really not into the mood.”

“Oh, man,” Todd says, guiltily. “Sorry. Thanks for thinking about it, though.” He walks back to the woman, and Myka downs another half of her beer.

Later, she locks herself in Pete’s bathroom. Well, at least she thinks she does. Her fingers are a bit shaky, and she means to sit on the edge of the bathtub, but eventually topples into it. She accepts her fate, cuddling the bottle of whiskey she grabbed from the cabinet tight to her chest. She’s twisting the cork out of the top when someone comes in, and said person bursts into giggles and sit on the toilet seat.

It’s Amanda. “Are you hiding?”

“Yes,” Myka sighs.

“Don’t you like Kurt?”

“Honestly, Amanda. I can’t spend the last month of my life getting to know someone. I’m not going to sit around and listen to their life stories, or – or what they wanted to be when they grew up. I just don’t give a shit.” Amanda’s hand rests on her shoulder and she gives Myka a reassuring squeeze.

“And you’re lucky,” Myka continues, “Because you’ve been with Pe – “ She’s cut off when Amanda leans into the tub, grabbing the lapels of Myka’s jacket for leverage as she kisses her sloppily on the mouth. It’s dizzying, the sudden proximity and Amanda’s tongue in her mouth, but Myka pushes her away. “What – what are you doing?”

Amanda sits back, looking confused. “What?”

“You’re Pete’s,” Myka says, because she can’t think of anything better.

“No, I’m not,” Amanda disagrees. “Nobody’s anybody’s anything anymore.” She gets up a leaves, and Myka just sits there.

When she’s home, she goes to her closet and pulls out a small wooden box. A box for memories, more or less, so she looks through it. She finds old family photos, an old kazoo she used to be absolutely obsessed with when she was ten, and a picture of her and Sam. She rubs her finger over his face, over her own smile, where in the picture, Sam kisses the corner of her mouth. Written on the back of the old photograph, Sam and Myka 4-ever. Sighing, she puts the picture back, pulls out the kazoo, and plays a tune.

She blows out a note, before movement outside her window and on the fire escape catches her eye. A woman covers her mouth as she stews there, a curtain of black hair framing her face, and Myka watches her before going to the window, where she taps on it with a knuckle. The woman doesn’t respond, so she slides the window up, before saying, “Hello? Are you – are you okay?”

The woman finally looks at her, eyes a little red and puffy, before leaning in and wrapping her arms around Myka’s shoulders. “No,” she sobs into Myka’s hair. “How could I be so stupid?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t know you very well.”

“I’ll never see my family again,” the woman cries, her voice softer, less emotionally strained, but her grip on Myka doesn’t lessen. “I missed the planes, all of them. God, it’s the end of the world and I’m still late for everything.” Myka pats her shoulder a bit, standing there awkwardly. “I can just hear my brother now, he’s probably saying that I’m self-absorbed and irresponsible and he’s right. How could I do this? I put my energy in the wrong places, I give my time to the wrong people, when I – when I think about all the holidays I didn’t spend with my family, to be with some guy I used to know…” She shakes with sobs again, and Myka attempts to clear her throat.

“Would you like to come in?” she asks, partly because she feels bad and partly because she gathers that the woman has no other place to go. The woman extracts herself, as if suddenly realizing what she is going, and stares at Myka.

“I won’t steal anything if you don’t hurt me.”

Myka’s tongue catches in her throat, before she finally coughs out, “agreed.”

Chapter Text

The woman climbs through her window easily, not even hesitating when she grabs onto Myka’s shoulder for leverage. She straightens and casts a gaze across Myka’s apartment once she’s inside, while Myka lowers the window, the sound echoing through the room.

“My name’s Helena,” the woman says suddenly, thrusting her hand into the space between then and Myka shakes it.

“I’m Myka.” Helena walks over to the couch and sits down, and Myka follows after her dumbly, a bit confused. When it’s obvious Myka’s not going to say anything, opting instead to sit down on the opposite end of the couch, Helena sighs.

“So how long have you lived here?”

“About three years,” Myka answers easily, because that’s when she moved from Colorado Springs, away from her family and into the world. “What about you?”

Helena looks at her, really looks at her, and finally focuses on Myka’s eyes. “I just broke up with someone.”

“Oh – I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. It was bound to happen anyway,” Helena says quickly, before leaning in conspiratorially. “He wasn’t very good in bed. Everything was just kind of building to this. He’s taking the night to clear out his stuff. I mean, ‘it’s always better to sleep on the fire escape than have pity sex’ I always say. If we did, he’d never leave, you know?”

Myka forces out a chuckle at Helena’s smirk, before shifting awkwardly. Helena’s gaze moves from her to the coffee table, zeroing in on something. “What’s that?”

“Wha – Oh, that’s cough syrup, I just,” she trails off as Helena grabs it eagerly.

“Can I have a sip?” she asks, already twisting off the cap.

“Actually,” – she stops as Helena chugs the bottle – “Go right ahead, I guess.”

“Mm,” Helena takes a breath. “Thanks.” She reaches behind her ear. “You want some weed?” She pulls a joint out and looks expectantly at Myka.

“Oh, uh, no. I’m fine,” Myka says, watching as Helena pulls a lighter out of her boot and flicks it on.

“It’s the only thing that sends me to sleep at night and the only thing that wakes me up in the morning,” Helena offers, while the joint dangles between her lips, and Myka nods forcefully again. “No, seriously,” Helena explains. “I’ve got a wicked case of hypersomnia. I could probably sleep through the apocalypse.” Myka doesn’t know what to say, because she’s never met a hypersomniac and because she’s not sure if it’s a real thing. So she just nods again, looking down at her hands while Helena takes a drag.

She chuckles quietly when she spots the open box on Myka’s table. “Who’s the guy?” she asks, pointing at the picture Myka had been looking at earlier.

“Who? Oh, that’s Sam.”

“Is he the one that got away? Or did you ditch him and run off to find yourself?”

Myka actually laughs at that, a small laugh. “No, uh, they all got away but he was the first, actually.”

Helena smiles at her. “Are you going to go and get him back? I hear that’s a very popular end of the world thing to do.”

“I’m sure that he has enough on his plate,” Myka answers quietly, wringing her hands uncomfortably, while Helena watches her some more.

Helena sighs, reaching for the TV remote. “What is it about the end of the world that brings them all out of the woodwork?” Myka merely shrugs, focusing on the TV screen where football players are running into the stands of a stadium. Myka’s never really watched football before, but she’s quite sure that that’s not how you play. Helena curls into the edge of the couch, looking really comfortable, while Myka sets a pillow in her lap and rests her arms stiffly at her sides.

/

Myka wakes up with a sore neck and finds herself in the exact same position she was in last night. Helena is the same, too, but her feet are inches away from Myka’s legs, still covered in those ratty boots that Myka is sort of jealous of. The TV’s still on sports, but it’s something Myka doesn’t recognize and assumes is made up just for the apocalypse. Myka looks at Helena for what has to be at least five minutes and is surprised that the other woman isn’t dead. She doesn’t move or anything. Just sleeps.

Elsa comes over around noon and Myka doesn’t really want to explain the woman on her couch so she doesn’t say anything. But that also includes not telling Elsa to avoid vacuuming, but when she does, Helena doesn’t wake up anyways. After the maid leaves, Myka opts to standing in front of Helena, before slowly pinching her nose closed. It takes about twenty seconds before Helena’s mouth falls open, but she still doesn’t wake up. So Myka sits in the chair across the couch, pulls out her kazoo, and plays it. She really just breathes through the kazoo, making the same sounds over and over again, while staring pointedly at a sleeping Helena, but it’s something to do.

And when Helena’s hand moves slightly to rub her eyes, Myka stops and sits up expectantly, smiling slightly at her visitor. “Oh,” Helena mumbles, scrambling to sit up. She looks at Myka sleepily. “I’m going to go downstairs now.”

Myka nods, following Helena out and to her apartment across the hallway. At the door, Helena holds a hand up, that catches Myka’s shoulder. “Wait a moment out here.”
Helena does a quick scan of the apartment while Myka presses her back against the wall, and soon Helena reappears. “He’s gone,” Helena announces. “Took my favorite records with him, but I should’ve seen that coming.”

“Mm,” Myka agrees, standing there awkwardly.

“So,” Helena murmurs, smirking at her.

“So.”

“Well,” Helena dips her head with a smile. “What are you doing with the rest of your life?”

“Oh, um,” Myka shakes her head absently, shrugging her shoulders. “Little of this and that, you know. Probably catch up on some ‘me time’. Maybe move around some chairs. Nothing’s changed all that much.” Myka tucks a curl behind her ear nervously.

Helena nods, amused. “Maybe I’ll catch you at a support group, or a – an orgy or something.”

Myka laughs again, feeling a slight flush on her chest. “Yes. That sounds fun.”

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Helena says, holding out a bundle of papers that were in her arms towards Myka.

“What’s that?” Myka asks, looking at a few envelopes addressed to her.

“Ah, it’s your mail,” Helena answers, looking somewhat guilty.

“Why do you have it?”

“You know, it’s actually a funny story,” Helena laughs. “You know how the mailman accidentally puts mail in the wrong box?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, over time – say like, three months – God, it really adds up, doesn’t it?” She chuckles. “Isn’t it funny? How we’ve lived so close to each other and never said ‘hi’. I have talked to your maid, though. Elsa, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Myka says, distracted by looking through her mail. “Maybe we’ll see each other.” She says goodbye and walks back to her apartment. She looks through the mail, finding jury duty announcements, among other things. And when she goes out to get more Windows, she gets more cough syrup, too. She drinks the latter as she stumble back home, finally thinking about what a shitty world they were in. She finds herself in a park with an empty bottle of cough syrup and looks at the Windows curiously. Before she can change her mind, she unscrews the top off and takes a long drink. The cleaner taste horrible and she wants to throw up, but instead she stumbles through the park some more, only finding a teenage couple making out next to the water fountain.

The bottle is only half empty when she makes the decision to drink the rest and eventually she passes out.

Chapter Text

***12 DAYS LEFT***

Myka wakes up the next morning with one of the worst headaches she’s ever had, greeted by the sounds of birds chirping and the wind blowing the trees. There’s a slight weight on her chest, and she feels around for something, not bothering to look up. It’s a piece of paper, held down by a small rock with Sorry – His name’s Trailer written on it. She looks to her feet, propping herself on her elbows and is greeted by a small dog, its head tilted to one side as it looks at her. She sighs, picks up the leash, and heads home.

On her way, she’s greeted with riots and looters, breaking windows of stores all around her. Once home, she makes some improvised food for Trailer, who just eats happily and is perfectly content lying on the floor in front of the sofa.

She has the national news on in the background as she looks through the rest of her mail. The anchor’s saying something about riots spreading all across the country, especially downtown. Myka finds a red envelope, with no return address, and her address written in scrawled handwriting. She opens it to find a handwritten letter, addressed to her, and immediately her eyes find the one thing she’s wished for since the longest time.

Myka, I just had to tell you… You were the love of my life. – Sam

“Oh my God,” she whispers, running her thumb over his name and rereading the whole letter. She’s brought out of her daze when a brick comes crashing through her window and the fire alarm for her building goes off. She runs to the front door, opening it only to find smoke billowing into her apartment and people yelling. She goes to the window then, opening it and she’s about to climb out when she remembers the dog.

Trailer’s still sitting in front of the couch looking at her expectantly and she waves for him.

“C’mere, boy – Good, good Trailer.” The dog follows her out the window and on to the fire escape.

She goes to Helena’s window, putting the dog in before climbing herself. “Helena?” The apartment is dark. “Helena! Helena?”

As she rounds a corner, a guy comes into view. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh – shit, I’m sorry,” Myka backtracks, adrenaline running through her. “I’m Myka, I live upstairs.” She gestures vaguely with her thumb.

The guy stares at her blankly. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“We’ve run into each other a few times, but that’s not –“

“No, no, I’m pretty good with faces.” The guy cocks his head to the side, squinting as if that will help him remember her.

Myka kind of wants to hit him. “Anyways… Obviously there’s a riot going on. Maybe you heard the screaming, smelled the burning…? If you could just wake up Helena, I think we should get out of the building as soon as possible.”

“Jesus,” the guy says, taking a deep breath. “When she said she was bi, I didn’t really believe her… You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Myka widens her eyes. “What? No… What? No, I’m… No, I’m not.” She can feel the blush rise to her cheeks, as he covers his face with his hands.

“Oh, I knew it!” He sobs. “Fuck, I knew it!” He punches the wall, then cries out, holding his hand to his chest. “Ow, ow, ow.”

Myka shakes her head as he falls to the floor. “Okay… All right.” She sidesteps him and goes into the other room, finding Helena in the bed, snuggled up in all the blankets. “Helena, okay, c’mon, we’ve got to go. You’ve got to wake up.” Helena rolls her head to the side, her eyes fluttering. “There you go,” Myka murmurs.

“Hey! I decide when Helena wakes up!” The guy from earlier pushes Myka aside, holding his hand for Helena to see. “Oh, man. I broke my hand, baby… I hope you’re happy, it’s my guitar hand.”

Helena scrunches up her face. “Aren’t they both your guitar hands?”

Myka interrupts them. “Helena! There’s a small riot brewing and we need to go. Right now.”

The guy turns to her. “She’s not going anywhere with you!”

“Would you please just stop?” Myka growls. “We all need to go! Come on! Here we go!” She claps her hands for emphasis, and walks out of the room. Helena struggles to get out of bed, with the guy whining in front of her.

“My hand. My gift!” he wails. “Will you please just look at it? I broke it.” Helena mumbles something that Myka can’t hear, but what she can hear is Helena getting dressed and the guy’s muffled cries. “Who is this chick, huh? I can’t believe you want her instead of me.”

Myka sighs, before yelling back in their direction, “Hey! I’m not kidding. We’re in serious danger, here.”

“God, Helena, why is she so much better? She’s a chick!” He moves his head to Myka’s direction. “What do you have? A job? Miss Job!”

“Nate!” Helena chastises. “I told you there wasn’t anybody else… Oh, shit, my records.” She runs into the living room, kneeling down in front of cases and cases of records, as Nate follows her, still clutching his hand.

“So you broke up with me for nobody? Do you not see how that’s worse?”

Myka rubs her temples, sighing yet again. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Scott Walker, Wilco… John Cale,” Helena mumbles to herself, thumbing through the vinyls.

“Hey – That’s my Cale,” Nate argues.

“We don’t have time for any of this, guys!” Myka yells from the other room. And Helena makes a small sound before running after Myka. Nate follows after them both.

They go to the window, Myka letting Helena go first and then Nate. She picks up Trailer, and climbs out of a window for the second time that night.

“I’ll drive,” Helena offers, and they go out into the night. The streets are filled with rioters and fires. Car and fire alarms are going off, mobs of people are yelling. They take the side streets, Myka and Nate running after Helena as she tries to find her car.

“I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me now.” Nate is the closest to Helena, and she rolls her eyes. “It’s the worst timing for me, ever!”

“We didn’t get back together,” Helena argued.

“What do you call last night?”

“Nothing happened!”

“Since when is snuggling nothing?”

“Shit,” Helena says, coming to a stop. “I thought it was right there.” She turns around, eyes scanning the lines of cars.

Myka blanches. “You don’t remember where you parked?”

“It was… Uh… It was on 1st and 9th! Fuck – maybe it was 10th and 2nd.” Helena presses a hand to her head, her eyes closing. Myka rushed past her, down another alley. Helena goes after her, “It was definitely one of those combinations!”

“I’m the asshole, right?” Nate asks, jogging next to Helena. “Everything’s my fault.”

“Can we just concentrate on finding the car?” Myka somewhat wishes she had not bothered to get them.

“No, Nate, it’s not about that,” Helena sighs. “We’re just not a match. Isn’t it better that we found out now, rather than later?”

Nate stops abruptly, staring after them. “No!” He yells, before sprinting to catch up. He rounds the corner with them. “What do you mean, not soul mates? I love you; I want to take care of you!” Gunshots echo off the alleyway and he screams, grabbing Helena’s shoulder and hiding behind her.

“Oh my God,” Myka mutters, grabbing Helena’s hand. “Helena, let’s go. Come on!” They leave Nate in the alley, with not one glance in his direction as they run off, hand in hand. Myka trips and falls, landing next to an unconscious man (Myka doesn’t want to think that he may be dead) before scrambling to her feet awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” Helena asks, attempting to help her up.

Myka waves her off frantically. “I’m fine. Just – let’s get to the car!” They round another corner, and Helena points.

“Yeah, there it is!” Nate’s leaning against the car, looking unbelievably stupid in his pajamas. Myka and Helena scramble for the doors, Helena trying to find the right key.

“Is this because I let you pay my rent?” Nate asks, “Because I had to swallow a lot of pride to let you do that.”

“Get in the car, Nate,” Helena growls, stumbling into the driver’s seat herself. They all pile into the Prius, Myka in the backseat and Nate in the passenger.

“I’m not leaving the city,” he tells them.

“Well, it’s my car,” Helena defends.

“Oh, that’s right,” Nate whines. “I don’t have a car. Throw that in my face while you’re at it.”

“They’re right on top of us,” Myka points out, referring to the mob of people gaining on their position. They’re hitting cars with baseball bats and throwing flaming bricks everywhere. Nate mocks her, repeating her words in a baby voice.

“Oh – would you get out and help?” Helena asks frantically, stuck in her car’s parallel parked position.

“I’ll do it,” Myka offers, about to get out of the car.

“No, no, no!” Nate yells. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh God,” Myka says. “There’s a guy. There’s a guy with a… right there!”

“Cut the wheel,” Nate tells Helena, from the sidewalk. Helena’s rear end hits the car behind her, and she gets agitated. “What are you doing? Cut the wheel!”

“I’m…” Helena turns the steering wheel.

“Fire!” Myka yells. “There’s fire!”

“You’re not cutting at all,” Nate, not so helpfully, points out. “Are you freaking blind?” Helena groans with frustration, hitting her palms on the wheel, as Nate keeps yelling.

“Hey,” Myka tells her. “Hey – I know a guy with a plane. If you drive me to where I need to go, I can get you to your family.” Helena stares at her, and Nate yells again. Hello? Cut the wheel! She does, hitting the car behind her yet again, and pulling out of the space. She hits the gas, speeding away from the mob of people and leaving Nate on the sidewalk.

“Ah, he’ll be fine,” she reasons, as Myka’s jaw drops and she stares out the back window. Nate yells after them, before trying to blend into the crowd, grabbing a rock and throwing it at a wall.

Helena and Myka’s eyes meet through the rearview mirror. “So tell me about this plane?”

Chapter Text

“You know, hybrid cars don’t need as much gas.” Helena trails behind her mostly, as Myka adjusts her grip on Trailer’s leash. She knows that if she looks back at her neighbor, she’d see Helena gripping her records tightly to her chest.

Myka stares forward instead, trying to hide her anger. “Yes, but they still need some gas, don’t they?” Myka doesn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“I don’t appreciate your tone,” Helena says. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to fill them up as much.” Myka doesn’t reply, walking forward quietly. “Does this mean we’re not going to the plane?”

Some part of Myka wants to crush the hope in Helena’s voice, but honestly, she’s lost hope of caring. “Look,” she sighs. “Maybe you should just forget about the plane.”

Helena makes a small sound. “I left Nate in the middle of a riot.”

“He used you as a human shield, Helena.”

“You don’t even know him,” Helena mutters. “You’re the one who woke me up in the middle of the night, dragged me out of bed – “

“You’re right!” Myka says a bit too loudly. She whirls to face the other woman. “I don’t know why I bothered saving your life, after you ruined mine!”

Helena has the audacity to look affronted. “What is that supposed to mean?”

The weight of the letter in her pocket is suddenly recognizable, and Myka plunges her hand in blindly for it, holding up the red letter for Helena to see. She waves it in front of Helena’s face.

“What – what is that?”

Myka laughs drily. “Well, you know how sometimes the mailman would put the mail in the wrong box? Well sometimes, the guy that you never got over sends you a letter.”

Helena beams at her. “That’s from the guy?” She looks excited all of a sudden, and hangs on Myka’s every word. “Oh my God, that’s great, right?” She lunges forward and pulls on Myka’s jacket, and Myka can’t help but notice the absence of space between them.

Myka nods. “Yeah, it’s pretty good. What would be great is if I could call her from a regular phone, or I could just hop on a train to wherever, or not die in the outer suburbs.” She starts to walk away from Helena, whose smile fades slightly as she continues. “But instead, I am on the scenic route to the guillotine with you,” she glances back at Helena, then to Trailer, “and you.”

Helena stops all together, staring after her with a sad look. Myka turns around. “He could be at the fucking pyramids by now. He could’ve blown his head off and I wouldn’t know because I didn’t get this three months ago!”

Helena runs a hand through her dark hair, sighing. “Guilt isn’t a feeling that I’m comfortable with.”

Myka rolls her eyes and begins to walk again. “Fortunately, you won’t have long to live with it.”

Helena spins around at the sound of a car behind them. She runs a little past Myka, turns toward the way they came, and holds out her thumb.

“What are you doing?” Myka groans. “Helena, this really doesn’t involve you…”

Helena waves her off, still looking in the direction of the approaching car. “I said I was going to get you there, so I’m gonna get you there… So, where was the last place you saw him?”

Myka gives her a ‘really?’ look. “Where was he 18 years ago? Look, Helena, you don’t need to spend the last few days of your life with a total stranger.” Part of her feels guilty about her outburst earlier, and feels like she should be making something up to Helena.

“You’re not a total stranger,” Helena points out. “And these aren’t my last days.”

“Oh, so you’re a survivalist.”

“No,” Helena grins as the car stops beside them. “I just have common sense.” She goes over to the car, a large yellow maintenance truck with an older man in the driver’s seat. “Hello!” she greets.

“You havin’ some trouble?”

“Do you know where the nearest gas station is, by any chance?” Helena has to stand on her toes to rest her arms on the edge of the open window comfortably, and Myka just meanders over to them. Trailer’s tail wags happily.

The man mulls over the question for a bit. “Yeah, but diesel is all they got left. Where you headed?”

Helena looks at her. “Where are we heading, Myka?”

She makes a decision, having the strange feeling that she might regret it later. “Univille.”

Helena grins even more, turning back to the stranger. “Univille, please. Wherever that is.”

“I think Huntsville might be as far as I’m going…”

“Great!” Helena muses, pulling open the door. “Thank you!” Myka looks up and down the road, before finally following her and stepping into the truck.

//

“So, what’s your pilgrimage? Because everybody’s headed somewhere.”

Helena is between Myka and the truck driver, smiling and somewhat happy. Myka stares out the window, with Trailer coming up behind her occasionally to lick her cheek.

“Well,” Helena says enthusiastically. “I’m going to see my family, and she’s… she’s looking for someone.” She bumps her shoulder into Myka’s. The truck driver looks at her expectantly.

“Who is it you’re looking for?”

Helena answers before she can. “Her high school sweetheart.”

“Is that right?” the driver muses with a chuckle. “Well, there’s no greater search than that of lost love, I’ll give you that.”

“Are you married?”

“No,” the truck driver says. “I never did walk the plank. There was a special lady… My Rita passed seven years back. You know, it’s all about who you lay down with when the lights go out. Takes longer than it should to figure that part. Truth is… It’s nice to have some company for a change. Even strangers.” Myka hopes that he means to trail off dramatically, and they can finish their car ride in silence, but Helena has other plans.

“Why don’t you tell us your life story? Then we won’t be strangers anymore.”

“Yeah?” the trucker asks, who they later learn is named Glen, “Well, sure. Let’s see, I was born in… Wait a minute. I should probably tell Daddy’s life story first, so there’s some context…” Myka lets her head fall against the seat, her eyes drifting closed. “Daddy was born in Skokie, Illinois. And his dad was born in Okie. Used to catch Bass.”

Myka glances back to Trailer, her eyes zeroing in on a tarp and shovel in the back seat. Her eyes knit together in confusion, before she glances at Glen. She sits apprehensively as he continues, thoughts of what he could do with that shovel drifting throughout her mind.

“… So they run a bunch of tests and they all come back with the same bad news,” Glen drawls. “Doctors give me six months to live. Then I go home, turn on the TV, and they say three weeks.” Helena clicks her tongue in disapproval. “If you ask me, a man’s not supposed to know when his time is up,” Glen sighs. “It’s not natural. That’s when you find yourself rentin’ a gun and biting a bullet. But that ain’t no way into heaven… Isn’t that right, Myka?”

“Hmm?” Myka jerks awake (she wasn’t really asleep – just napping). “No, uh, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna go drain the snake. You want to join me?” He’s looking at Myka like she’s missing the punch line to a joke and she shakes her head. She hadn't even noticed that they'd stopped.

“No thanks, I’m… I’m good.” Glen nods slowly, before getting out of the car.

“Okay, I can’t be the only one getting killer vibes from him,” she says under her breath, keeping her eye on Glen’s fading form.

Helena clicks her tongue, fiddling with the radio. “I think he’s soulful.”

“Who drives around with shovels? I don’t trust him.”

Helena’s eyebrows rise. “He told us his life story,” she says with a chuckle. “Very thoroughly, if I may add.”

“Yes,” Myka nods, “and thank you for that, by the way.”

Helena just smirks. “Do you know, if you actually listened, you might learn something for a change?”

Glen appears at the door, and Trailer starts to whimper in the back. “Trailer needs to go out,” Helena mutters, pulling off her seatbelt and climbing out of Glen’s door. Myka starts to object – she really doesn’t want to be alone with this guy – but Helena is already out the door. “I’m going to take him for a sniff,” she says, smiling at Glen. She points a finger in his direction. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She walks off with the dog, and Myka sighs, not even bothering to hide it, as Glen climbs back in. She knows that he’s looking at her, his head nodding slightly, but she refuses to look back.

“I knew it as soon as I saw you,” he says.

Myka looks at him, slightly confused.

He continues, “That detached look in your eyes. That vague way about you… You almost had me fooled with that line about your high school boyfriend.”

Now Myka is really confused. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Glen interrupts. He looks at her a second more, before taking off his hat. “Just kill me quickly.”

What? “What?”

Glen seems to get impatient. “Well I thought we could do it in that nice field,” he says, his voice rising. He points a thumb in the direction he’d gone off to ‘drain the snake’, “but if you’re gonna shoot me in the back, then let’s get it over with.”

“Shoot you?” Myka asks, “I don’t… Are you still speaking metaphorically…?”

“Well, what’s it gonna be, then? Knife? Piano wire?”

Myka looks back out the rear window, at Helena walking along with Trailer. “Okay, you know what? She’s going to be back any second…”

“I specifically requested a heartless killer! You can’t back out now!”

Myka shakes her head. “I don’t think I am who you think I am.” Glen stares her down, seemingly debating something over, until he bursts out laughing. Myka chuckles nervously with him, remembering the shovel in the back.

“Whew,” Glen coughs between laughs, “That’s a relief!” He laughs even harder, looking at Myka. He gestures to the space between them. “I was afraid that I could fight you off!” He chuckles, until catching his breath. “You know, Myka, when a man –“

A gunshot echoes around them and Myka watches a bullet tear through the windshield and hit Glen in the throat. Blood spurts down his neck and Myka watches as a black car’s tires spin before it speeds away down the road.

“Myka?! Glen?” Helena comes rushing up to the driver’s window and her jaw falls open when she sees the latter. “Oh my God.”

“Glen’s dead,” Myka says matter-of-factly.

“I can see that,” Helena drawls. “Are you okay? Did you get the plates of the driver?”

Myka looks at her incredulously. “No! I didn’t. I was too busy watching him get shot.”

“Well, sorry,” Helena says flippantly, looking curiously at Glen’s wound. “Do you think it hurt?”

“Yes, Helena, I think it hurt.”

Chapter Text

Myka’s arms are screaming as she digs into the ground, the tip of the shovel biting the dirt. Helena stands off to the side, leaning on her own shovel.

“When a man...” Helena looks over at her. “When a man… What do you think he was trying to say?”

Myka lets out a breath. “I don’t know, Helena.”

“When a man… loves a woman? When a man… is a trucker?”

Myka lets the clumps of dirt from her shovel fall into a pile. “The man,” she pauses, taking a breath. “The man committed suicide via homicide two weeks before the apocalypse. I’m not really concerned with any trucker wisdom I may have missed out on. Okay?” She stops to look over at Helena, who has one eyebrow arched.

Myka finishes patting the ground to smooth it out, remembering the way they’d unceremoniously dumped Glen’s body into the hole. “All right,” she says as she stretches her arms above her head. “I’ll drive. Do you have the keys?”

Helena looks at her a moment, her mouth falling open slightly as her gaze falls down to the ground. “Oh…”

“Okay,” Myka says before she starts to dig again.

//

Glen’s truck drives pretty well in Myka’s opinion. Helena tunes the stations so upbeat music blasts through the speakers while Myka ignores the screaming headache she has. Trailer sits between them, panting along, while Helena leans her head against the window with a sigh.

“You think a lifetime of waiting for the worst to happen would’ve prepared me for this,” Myka says after a while.

Helena runs a hand through her hair. “How could anyone prepare for this?”

Myka shakes her head. “I always knew it’d be over too soon. I never saw myself as an old woman.”

“Really?” Helena asks, glancing over at her. “I always assumed I’d live forever. I was totally going to peak at forty.”

Myka laughs and Helena grins. “Well, I hear thirty is the new forty.” They let their laughter die out. “Luckily, I’m getting my mid-life crisis in just in the nick of time.”

Helena smiles even wider. “He must be really special, huh? Sam? To want to find him after so much time.”

Myka finds herself nodding. “He was, yeah.”

“So why did you break up?”

Myka shrugs. “We were young. We weren’t fully formed yet. We just ended up taking different directions in life.”

Helena chuckles. “He dumped you.”

“He dumped me,” Myka agrees. She glances over at the raven haired woman. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Who’s the one that got away?”

Helena scoffs. “I am, thank God. I don’t mean that I’m anything special, I’m just… I’m glad that part of my life is over with, you know? Relationships.”

“I thought you weren’t cynical.”

“I’m not… I’m… clinical.” She grins. “I am a recovering serial monogamist.”

“Sounds very serious.”

“Very. I went to this therapist who told me that I had problems being alone.” She reaches over and runs a hand through Trailer’s hair. “But then, she wanted to see me five times a week, so you tell me who really had the problem." From her tone, Myka can tell she’s joking.

“If the end of the world has taught me anything,” Helena continues. “It’s that I’m finally getting my… Oh my God.” Myka looks over to where she’s looking and knits her eyebrows in confusion.

“Is that a Friendsy’s?”

Helena gasps. “I would kill for a pint.”

//

Walking into the familiar restaurant, the pleasant music making it impossibly creepy that someplace like this is still open, Myka and Helena are slightly confused as the latter parted a curtain of beads blocking their entrance. The restaurant is busy and lively, people crowding into most of the booths and waiters and waitresses skating around.

A man behind the check in podium pulls the blunt from his lips and grins at them. “Hi,” he drawls. “Welcome to Friendsy’s where everyone is your friend!” He rolls around the stand and moves to hug Helena, who tenses only slightly.

“Two for dinner?” the waiter asks, after he’s pulled away from Helena. “Ahh, look at this little guy.” He reaches toward the ground to ruffle Trailer’s fur, the dog sitting by Myka’s feet.

“Is he okay? Bringing him in, I mean,” Helena asks.

“Oh yeah, everyone’s welcome. Dude brought in a wolf last week. It’s crazy. Come on in!” He waves them forward and leads the way, high fiving other waiters as he rolls through the aisles.

“I honestly can’t believe you guys are still open,” Helena says.

He looks back at them, grinning bigger than ever. “Yeah, we thought about closing up shop. But this, it’s really our family, you know? In fact, the tragedy has brought us closer. Maybe too close.” He laughs. “That’s impossible!"

They continue weaving through the chaos. “Without management it’s a lot less corporate. Right Steven?” He slaps some guy’s ass and Myka jumps a little. He sets two menus on a corner booth. “Right. I hope a booth is okay.”

Helena scoots in. “Yeah, it’s - “

“We burned all of the chairs in a bonfire.” He gestures to a waitress. “I’m going to pass you guys off to Katie, okay? You’re in warm hands with her.”

“Thanks, Darcy,” Katie says. “Isn’t he incredible?!” She turns back to Myka and Helena, smiling widely. “Hi, I’m Katie. Can you slide over please?” She sits down next to Helena excitedly. “Can I touch your hair? It’s so gorgeous.”

Helena chuckles uneasily. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s so soft.”

“Thank you.” Myka watches from the other side of the table and feels entirely too far away.

Katie looks over at her suddenly. “Can I get you guys something to wet your whistle? Everything’s awesome.”

Helena grins. “How’re your  mudslides?”

“Fucking awesome.” At this point, Myka’s sure that Katie is as high as a kite.

“Can we get two mudslides, then?” Helena asks in that charming way she has.

“Yes, of course,” Katie drawls, writing it down on a used napkin. “Do you guys wanna know the specials? Because we’re getting really creative.”

Myka laughs, partly because of Katie’s serious tone and partly because of Helena’s expression. “No, just the mudslides.”

“Okay!” Katie slides out of the booth, after a long lingering look at Helena. “Gotcha.” She stands there for a moment. “Guys, I’m rolling pretty hard right now, but if you two keep it super positive, I will bring you those M-slides. And, maybe an order of spin-dip for the table.”

Helena touches Katie’s hand and the waitress’ mouth falls open a bit. “That would be amazing, thank you. And you know what, it’s her birthday today.”

Katie looks scandalized. “Why didn’t you tell me that?! Happy birthday!” She blows a whistle that was hanging around her neck as Myka laughs. The music in the restaurant gets louder and Katie dances away. Helena runs a hand through her hair, taking in the atmosphere before grinning at Myka.

“I really hope you’re having a good time,” Myka offers, looking around like she can’t believe it.

“I am having a good time!” Helena laughs. “Yeah, I am having fun.”

“I think that this place is some sort of cult and that we probably shouldn’t eat anything.”

“Oh, you’re crazy, darling. This is amazing. Look, there are people sitting down together and everybody is happy!” She rests a hand on her chest. “There’s a conga line. Just like… This is a piece of American history. It’s a human landmark. It’s a shout-out to the man upstairs to say… Oh!” She tapers off, sniffing the air. “I smell weed.” She grabs somebody’s arm in the conga line. “Excuse me! I smell weed.”

Darcy, the man who brought them to their booth, laughs. “Yeah, it’s right this way. Conga your way to a great time!”

Turning back to Myka, Helena nods her head before getting up. Myka waves her goodbye and shakes her head like she can’t believe it.

//

They get Trailer a bread bowl of something that resembled some type of casserole. Eventually, they order some food for themselves, Myka getting a burger and Helena enjoying a sandwich with her milkshake.

Myka takes a bite and laughs into her food.

“Is it good?” Helena asks, eyeing it skeptically.

“This bun is a donut,” Myka says, by way of response. Helena laughs out loud, a lovely, melodic sound that makes Myka smile. “It’s exactly what you think a burger with a donut bun would taste like.”

They take a moment to chew their food, Helena spinning the straw in her milkshake. “What did you do?” she asks.

“When?”

“You know, before, like, as a living.”

“I made books. At a publishing company.”

Helena laughs, before taking in Myka’s serious expression. “Oh, you’re not joking? Oh, okay. How does, uh, how does one get into that field?”

Myka takes a long drink of water. “You dare to dream, Helena. Ha, no. Uh, I don’t know… I guess you take all of your childhood fantasies of being a… a superhero or a doctor or whatever. Then, eventually, reality hits, and you realize that, really, all you want is to have a desk somewhere with your name on it.”

“But why books?”

“I grew up in a bookstore,” Myka shrugs. “I feel more comfortable with a safety net and books are safe.”

“Whoops,” Helena says.

“Mhmm.” They both laugh into their mudslides.

“So, go on,” Helena urges. “How do you know a man with a plane?”

“I don’t know him. I said I knew him.”

“I know,” Helena says, holding her hands up in innocence. “I know. I’m not getting my hopes up. I’m just… I’m just really excited.”

“Obviously.” Myka smiles at her before their attention is drawn away by a loud commotion coming their way.

“It’s your very last birthday…!” A bunch of waiters and waitresses come their way carrying what looks like something Myka should not eat with candles on it. Helena reaches across the table and grasps her hand, mouthing ‘happy birthday’. “There will never be another!” Three claps. “So tell your sisters and your brothers!” Three claps. “It’s your very last birthday!” Katie’s at the front of the group and dances the hardest. All of them cheer and Katie lunges forward, pressing her lips to Myka’s. And afterward, while Myka’s still recovering, she kisses Helena, too.

“Oh… kay.” They look around as everyone starts kissing. “Look,” Helena says suddenly. “I don’t want to be rude, but…”

Someone crawls under the table and starts to tug at Myka’s jeans. “Oh! Yeah, yeah we should go.” Myka puts some money on the table and grabs Trailer’s leash with one hand and Helena’s hand with the other, leading the way through the large group of people and avoiding being touched.

They get out unscathed, laughing so hard they can barely breathe. Helena throws her milkshake glass to the ground and it shatters loudly. They laugh even harder once they’re in the car, Myka leaning back into the passenger seat heavily. Helena tries speaking but can barely wrap her words around her laughter. “They were…” Myka leans against the dashboard, her body shaking.

“Oh, God,” she says, leaning back once again. Helena looks at her in the low light before closing the distance, placing a hand on Myka’s shoulder and kissing her. Myka freezes before her hand drifts to tuck Helena’s hair behind her ear. Their lips move harmoniously, taking turns to breathe for each other as Myka’s hand gets tangled into raven hair. Helena’s fingers curl into Myka’s shoulder before finally, they break apart, foreheads resting against one another’s.

“Myka,” Helena says quietly. “I want you to be my last.”

Myka is breathing heavily and finds herself nodding slightly. “That’s a lot of pressure.” Helena kisses her again and laughs into Myka’s lips, pulling on curls before settling in Myka’s lap.

//

They’re on the road later, driving through the night and high on each other. A blunt dangles from Helena’s fingers as she drives. Myka runs a hand through Trailer’s fur and stares straight ahead, trying to ignore the image of Helena’s taut torso and how it had reacted under her fingertips. All she can think about is how /good/ Helena tasted and how /good/ it felt to have Helena quivering underneath her. She braves a glance at the woman, just as Helena runs a hand through dark hair.

“Listen… I…” Myka doesn’t know how to continue. “Sorry, you go first.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“It’s just,” Myka starts, pulling at the fingers of her right hand with her left. “I think I got a little carried away before with the… the mudslides and the orgy, and, you know, obviously things are very complicated right now.”

Helena glances at her, eyebrows knit in amusement. “What are you doing?”

“I just want you to know that I… I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you or anything…” Myka looks out the window and winces at her choice of words. “I mean, obviously you’re younger than me. What are you, thirty? Thirty-one?”

Helena shrugs. “Twenty-eight.”

“Oh, God.” Myka lets her head fall into her hands, tangles her fingers into her own hair.

“Relax, Myka. It was… just… It was end-of-the-world sex. Call it creature comfort. And, if anything, it was my fault. You didn’t do anything.” She moves her hand nonchalontly.

Myka rolls her eyes. “Oh, I think I did some things.”

“It isn’t going to happen again,” Helena says easily, grinning. “I promise. You’ve got Sam, I’ve got my family. You know, we both have more important places to be. A little sex was bound to happen, let’s not make a big deal out of it.” Myka’s about to say something but Helena’s attention goes elsewhere, toward the street sign. It says “Camden : 37”. “I dated someone from Camden,” Helena says.

“Listen, Helena… It…” Myka’s cut off once again, this time by the warble of a police siren. She turns around and sure enough, there’s a police car trailing them. Myka sighs. “I don’t understand.”

“What is he doing?”

“I guess he’s… Is he trying to pull us over?”

Helena scoffs. “Oh, come on. He can’t be serious.”

“How fast are you going?”

“Who gives a shit?”

Myka shakes her head. “Why aren’t you slowing down?”

“Oh, no. I think we can take him.” To emphasize her words, Helena steps on the gas a little more, the engine revving and the car speeding up.

“Seriously, Helena. Slow down.”

“Don’t you think that he must have better things to do?”

“Pull over. Please.”

“What is he going to do, shoot us?”

“There’s actually a very real possibility that he could shoot us, yes!”

“All right!” Helena grumbles, slowing down and pulling to the side of the road. “I should warn you, my dad’s ex-military and he says I have a really serious problem with authority.” She takes a long drag from the blunt just as the car stops.

“Put that away. Here, give it to me.” She reaches for it as Helena tries to take as long a drag as she can.

“It’s all I’ve got left,” she whines. “I’m trying to ration it.”

Myka looks back at the cop car behind them and whispers, “What do I do with it?”

Helena waves her hand. “Just put it in your mouth.”

Myka tries, burning her tongue, and immediately starts coughing. Helena stares at her.

“That was still lit.”

Myka flips her off, attempting to control her coughing just as the cop comes to the window. Helena smiles charmingly. “Hello, Officer, what seems to be the problem?”

The cop is older, about ten years over middle age, and saunters up to the car like he owns them. “Well, for starters, you’re driving about 15 miles an hour over the speed limit.”

Myka tries to stop coughing as Helena looks at the speedometer in surprise. “Really? Huh. I thought I was making better time than that.”

The cop raises his eyebrows and looks at her. “And you know, you got a tail light out.”

Helena grabs the locket around her neck. “No.”

“Yeah. Also, your plates expired about a month ago.”

Helena grins wider. “Go on.”

“Um, that’s it,” the cop stammers. “That’s everything. Those three things.”

“Well,” Helena starts, her voice inflection going higher. “Why don’t you write us out any number of expensive, time-sensitive tickets, and we’ll be on our way?” The cop looks past Helena at Myka for a moment.

“I need some identification.”

“Oh, of course!” Helena says. “My name is Helena, and this is Myka.” She gestures to the other woman.

“Hi,” Myka waves, her voice cracking.

“Okay,” the cop says, his stance widening. “License and registration.”

“Well, you see, that’s where we’ve got a problem,” Helena explains. “Because I didn’t get a chance to retrieve my identification before fleeing my home during a deadly riot.” Myka rubs her eyes. “However, we were fortunate enough to hitch a ride with a very nice trucker, who, turns out, had hired a hitman to assist him in a suicide, thus bestowing us with this… this beautiful mode of transportation. So, the answer is no, no license or registration here.”

The cop shakes his head slightly.

“However,” Helena continues. “Given the current situation with the…” she points up at the sky and whistles. “Couldn’t you find it in your heart to set aside the law just this once and let us on our way, so that I can give my friend here a fighting chance of being with the one she loves before we all reach our untimely conclusion?”

Helena smiles and Myka smiles. The officer takes a moment to regard them and chuckles uneasily. “No.”