Title: For the Enemy
Rating: PG
Date: 18/02/2012
Notes: Written as a comment!fic for DailyFandomCap.
Spoilers: General show up until mid season 2. One shot for For the Team.

Myka watched as Helena pushed herself up off the ground, long limbs gathering and stretching with a grace all of their own; a foal ambling with its own singular beauty. The room closed in around them, blacking everything, pulling at the edges of her consciousness, and Myka was reminded of the overwhelming force of an oncoming faint. And yet instead of disappearing, instead of the panic that would have normally accompanied her loss of control, the view in front of her got sharper, crisper, until all she could focus on was the woman in front of her. Gone was the underlying rumble of students moving about campus. Gone was the itch of Claudia's eyes, noting and analysing Myka's every move. Everything – everything – was Helena.

The weight of the tesla in her hand filtered through the fog to register with her brain. Shaking off the haze, remembering that HG Wells, despite the inherent fascination she induced, was in fact top of the Warehouse's wanted list, Myka felt herself propelling forward. Without thought, she felt her hand wrap around the cool skin of HG's neck. The move had clearly shocked the woman. The smirking attitude in her dancing brown eyes replaced by alarm – and was that a touch of fear? Fear at Myka's actions, at her speed and force? Fear that the person she had picked from those at the warehouse to be her liaison, her best chance, had turned on her so quickly?

What HG didn't know, what she couldn't know, was that the move had alarmed Myka herself just as deeply. She felt the words fall from her lips, the words Artie had arranged so carefully. She knew them to be true – and yet she didn't quite believe them. The words tumbled out, but all Myka could see were her fingers curled around Helena's neck. She was surprised at the paleness of Helena's skin against her own, at the red bloom starting to race up the slim neck. A few singular strands of hair had become entwined with Myka's fingers, the dark threads pulling and drawing white lines into her skin.

So mesmerised was she by her actions, by the visage in front of her, that she almost failed to realise the damage she was causing. It was the nervous shuffle of Claudia behind her that drew Myka's eyes to HG's gasping form, her eyes starting to take on a panicked sheen. Myka let go, watching still as HG doubled over, coughing and drawing ragged and much needed breath.

Myka felt her hand tingle with the loss of contact, with the guilt that was flooding her. She had not wanted to be the one to face HG Wells. She had not wanted to be the one who would have to take her in. She did not want to be the one standing here, as she was now, engaging in the defensive banter that HG did so well. But above all else, she did not want to be forced into considering why all this was.

Helena stepped forward deliberately, all smooth slides and knowing grins, to stand closer to Myka. Not simply closer, but directly in front of her. Myka told herself to stand her ground, to not show just how keenly she was aware of her proximity. She would not measure the distance with her eyes. She would not hitch her breathe, knowing full well they were sharing the same air. She would not bite her lip or touch her hair to expel some of the utter nervousness that had taken over her. She was a Federal Agent, for God's sake and she would not allow this woman to be her undoing.

And as HG Wells skipped past her, slipping out of their grasp once more, all cheeky grins and laughing voices, Myka willed herself to believe that it was not already the case.