"Duuuuuuuuuude," Claudia whined. "Move already, it' s my turn!"

"Nu-uh!" Pete cried. "I just got here! Make HG move."

Claudia scoffed. "Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen."

Myka felt her feet fly up and land back on the cushions as Claudia forcefully yanked Pete from the lounge. She opened her eyes just in time to catch the glare Pete gave his usurper. Claudia carefully lifted Myka's stockinged feet, slipping her lap between them and the lounge. Myka had sat there, her head in Helena's lap like she had done countless times before, but it had not been long before the others had formed their odd rotational foot massage. Not that Myka was minding terribly much.

They had all been delighted when Helena and the newly rehumanised Myka entered the Warehouse office. Claudia had barrelled across the room, this blurred ball of colour and energy, nearly wiping Myka out with the force of her hug. Pete, unable to break through Claudia's squirming glee, had settled for wrapping Helena in a giant bear hug, picking her up as he did so. Myka caught the manoeuvre out of the corner of her eye, pleased to see the affection between them - she did not hear Pete's quiet words of gratitude, the whispered 'we got our girl back' passing between them.

Though Claudia's hug would not end anytime soon, the intensity did diminish enough for Pete to grab Helena once more and pull her into the group hug. Looking through the amassed collection of shoulders Myka saw Artie looking upon them all with relief and joy; nothing made him happier than having all his team together. Myka's absence had affected them all greatly, and he had been far from immune to the grief they had endured.

Myka had been hard pressed to shuck them off long enough to get home, with them all trying to pile into the same car - much to Helena's frustration and Myka's amusement. Eventually, however, they had made it, and they revelled in their first evening gathering with Myka in attendance.

Having been forcibly removed from prime Myka petting position (Myka wasn't thinking about it too hard, she was just going with it), Pete had disappeared into the kitchen. Fully anticipating his move, Myka was not surprised to see him return with the cookie jar under his arm. She was not, however, expecting the saucer of milk that was unceremoniously shoved under her nose. "Thirsty, Myka?"

She glared at him over the rim of the saucer and spoke matter-of-factly, "Cats are lactose intolerant Pete, they don't drink milk."

"Huh," he said, lowing the saucer. "Didn't stop you from drinking the milk from my cereal every morning."

Myka closed her eyes on the memory. If she shut them tight enough and didn't look at Pete directly then she could pretend that that hadn't happened. She didn't expect this to truly work, she had quite clear memories of laser pointers and yarn - and she was fairly certain she had eaten three of Artie's socks. If there was one thing she could count on her friends for it was to torment her mercilessly over the coming weeks - Leena got quite used to checking every room for the abandoned saucers of milk Pete taunted her with and confiscating the laser-grappler from Claudia's mischievous hands.

Deciding to simply ignore him for now, Myka snuggled deeper into the lounge enjoying the warmth of Claudia's hands through her socks, kneading the flesh gently in a steady calming rhythm. Helena threaded her fingers through Myka's curls, studying the way they straightened out to twice their length with her gentle tugging. She could hear Pete and Artie discussing something, but could not summon up the energy to focus in on whatever it was. Leena's voice floated over the gentle din, her happily amused tone saying something about purring. Myka could not remember a time she had been more content.

Sliding further and further into her cosy rest, Myka fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist, the still new leather starting to soften as it twirled around and around, gently scraping her skin. Helena had been bought to tears when she had seen the collar now wrapped around Myka's arm, the gravity pulling the bronze medallion to hang at the back, the etched 'Helena's' pressing always against Myka's pulse point. She had offered to have something made for her, something more 'fitting', but Myka had refused point blank to even let her touch the bracelet. It was there to stay.

Seeing Myka fiddle with it fondly, a habit in the making, Helena leaned over her, kissing her from above. Not a word was said from anyone, the teasing of them (however fondly it has been made) had now ceased. Myka was home.


For everyone who has read along and left wonderful comments on this fic, I thank you - I hope you noticed when I picked up your ideas and suggestions and folded them into the chapters. Despite the fic now being finished, there are still several MykaCat scenarios that I have drafted out (most coming out of late night conversations between mynameisme91 and myself, so be warned) - eventually I will write them out so if you're interested, there will be MykaCat!verse ficlets popping up occasionally.