Title: Sheer Folly
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any profit yada yada yada
Summary: Written at the prompting of the delightful lovesthesoundof who gave me this: "Helena never cared for traditional feminine attire, but after Myka openly marveled at an old photograph of her wearing a dress she went looking for a seamstress to recreate it."
Just a little moment, probably during season 2.

If there was one thing Helena Wells never expected, it was to be lacing herself into a corset once again in the twenty first century.

The things one does for love, she mused. There was irony, but no bitterness in the thought, however. The look of pure delight and desire on Myka's face as the agent stared at the faded photograph of Helena in her Warehouse 12 days was more than enough to make up for the ridiculous effort the artificer had put into having this particular dress recreated.

And the even more ridiculous effort of getting it on without proper help.

There was a reasonthe British upper-class all had servants. They wore stupid clothing. In fact, Helena had said as much to Myka when the younger woman had inquired as to why Helena seemed in no hurry to recreate her former wardrobe.

"Stupid gorgeous clothing," was Myka soft reply, and the gentle, impish smile on her face would have melted a harder heart than Helena could lay claim to. At least anymore. Once upon a time, the author considered as she gave one last yank of the folds of fabric around her legs, she would not have been the kind of person to engage in such a frivolous activity simply because a woman asked her to.

Then again, Myka Bering was not merely any other woman.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror with its coifed hair, pale skin and breasts just rising above the scooped (but still proper) neckline of the deep blue gown, her corseted waist narrow above the yards of softly shimmering fabric, Helena made a rueful expression.

"You're a fool Wells," she murmured. "This is sheer folly."

And yet Helena could no more deny Myka's gentle request then she could stop the fluttering feeling in her chest that made her heart quicken every time the younger agent looked at her. Fool's errand this might have been, but Helena Wells would see it through nonetheless.

When she walked down the stairs of the B & B, skirts swishing with each step, and saw Myka's jaw quite literally drop, color staining her cheeks delicately before she managed to compose herself, Helena admitted – if only to herself – it had been totally worth it.