Final part of this little angst-fest. Thank you all for reading, and to beatricethecat2, for giving me the idea :)

Three days later it was time to decide. And she still hadn't. She couldn't. She was paralysed with fear, with indecision – with cowardice. She was sitting in her room looking out the window, thinking back to when this had all started – when Helena had swept her off her feet with the grappler. The way Helena had looked at her. She'd known then, right away. Known that Helena was not straight, known that there was an attraction between them. She had known, and she should have run, right then, right that moment. Because then she wouldn't have fallen in love with the wrong person.

She didn't hate Helena. She didn't think Helena was sick. She remembered the "many of my lovers were men," thing, just before Egypt. She had smiled to herself that day, she remembered, because Helena was nothing if not dramatic. But she didn't hate Helena for being bisexual or however she might identify herself. She didn't hate Helena; she didn't judge her. She didn't think Steve was disgusting for sleeping with that other agent, Liam something. She didn't think anyone else was wrong or bad for falling in love with someone of the same sex. If anything, she was envious of those who did, of the luminous joy she saw in them from just being their true selves. It was only herself she judged harshly; only herself that she blamed for not being able to control herself enough to stay away from Helena. Probably thanks to her dad, she figured, who had drummed into her head before she could even speak that she was a disappointment, that she wasn't wanted, that she was all wrong. Why couldn't she get it out of her, this disgust, this hatred of who she was, how she felt? Why couldn't she have the courage to stand up and say that she loved Helena? Why couldn't she be as brave as everyone else was? She shrank back into herself at the thought, at the idea of her father's face if she told him that she was in love with a woman. She was thinking that maybe she could get through this, could get by this if she just gritted her teeth and ignored Helena's deadline, when Pete knocked on her door and came in without waiting for an answer.

"Hey, Mykes," he said, softly, and he walked over to her and took her hand, tugging her gently so she'd follow him. She followed him downstairs dumbly and he led her to his car. He started driving, not speaking, and before she knew it they were in Featherhead, and then outside the hotel. The hotel.

"What are we doing here, Pete?" she asked, completely confused.

"I'm dropping you off, Myka. She's waiting for you," he explained.

"What?"

"Helena is waiting for you. Helena, the woman you're in love with. I'm sorry, Myka, that I didn't figure all this out sooner. Your Dad, Kurt Smoller, all that stuff you told me about how he is with gay people. Your mom, Tracy. I should have figured it out. But I thought I was in love with you, and it would have been so perfect, you know? Like Moonlighting or Castle, or whatever, with the snappy dialogue and the crime-solving. But life's not like that, I guess. You don't love me, and that kinda sucks. What you are doing here, to me, kinda sucks. But I can't say that I don't understand. If I was gay or bi and I had your Dad as my Dad, I might have used you as a beard too. But Mykes, you love HG. And she loves you. It's time to decide, once and for all, okay?"

He was looking at her in that way of his, when he was being totally sincere, and it was heart-breaking to see him so cut up, but so determined. Determined to see her happy. And she'd been using him.

"How?" she asked, and he smiled, but it was a sad smile.

"Artie and Claudia talked to me. Yesterday. Claudia's been talking to HG, and I guess she told her about this – her ultimatum. And she said she didn't think you were going to come. That you were going to hide away and marry me. So Claudia talked to Artie, and they both talked to you. But then you still didn't do anything, so they told me. They said it was for two reasons – first of all, because you were using me, and they didn't think that was okay. And secondly, because you love Helena and she loves you, and that kind of love – a person who would die for you, who has died for you? That doesn't come round more than once, partner."

His face was crumpling, and it was clearly an effort for him to get himself under control. She didn't know what to say. Her deceit had caught up with her, and she had hurt the person she probably loved more than any other. Except maybe Helena. Her heart was still warring within her, and she couldn't decide, even now, when her relationship with Pete was plainly over.

"Look," Pete said, clearly exasperated with her failure to move, to decide, to do or say anything. "I told you, I understand, Myka. It was a shitty thing you did, letting me think you loved me, but I get it. But you need to grow a pair now, partner. Cowboy the fuck up. Get up there and tell her you love her, and start moving on with your life, instead of staying here, lying to yourself and everyone else just to fit in. It's not you, Myka. You're stronger than that. You're my freaking hero, Myka Bering. So go up there and be brave."

She cried. For the first time, she looked at Pete with honest eyes and she saw what she'd done. She saw that he still loved her, even though she'd used him. She saw that he wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn't with him, and she felt shame course through her. Her tears were half for him and half for her own pain. She had always thought of herself as strong, as brave, as good. And up until now, this thing with Helena – she'd been anything but brave. But she could be. She could be strong enough. She didn't feel strong, but she could fake it til she made it. She could be who Pete saw, who Artie saw, instead of this pathetic excuse of a woman she'd been since she realised she was in love with Helena.

"Thanks, Pete," she said, and she leaned across and set a soft kiss to his cheek. "I don't deserve you," she said, and he nodded.

"You're right. And you're gonna make up for it in cookies and other baked goods, believe me. But for now, Mykes, just make this right, okay? We're all rooting for you."

She slipped out of the car silently and made her way to the same room she'd met Helena at last month. She took a deep breath and knocked, and after a few minutes she heard footsteps. The door opened, and Helena stood there staring.

"You came. You actually came?"

"Yeah. I'm here," Myka said shyly, and Helena pulled her into the room by her shirt front, slamming her against the door once she'd closed it, and then they were kissing, hands and mouths moving together and tears falling between them unheeded.

"I love you," Myka managed, in between kisses, and Helena said it too, in between kisses, and they said it so many times that afternoon that Myka lost count after the tenth time. And she lost count of how many times they made love after the fourth time. She woke a lot later in the hotel room that was now swathed in darkness. She got out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb Helena, who looked more peaceful and happy than Myka had ever seen her. She went to the window, where there was a view of a dumpster and an alleyway, but also of the stars and the moon. The moon was almost full and it was bright and beautiful, and she let the light wash over her as she closed her eyes. This was going to cost her, she knew. This relationship, her happiness, being herself – it would most likely come at the cost of her family. But she had been screaming internally this whole time, trying to escape the trap she'd made for herself, and she had been miserable. Maybe the cost of happiness was always this high. But Helena was worth it. This was worth it. Her Warehouse family had always been there for her, and they would stand behind her, behind Helena.

"Myka?" Helena said, sitting up in confusion. "What are you doing? Are you leaving?"

"No, Helena. I just woke up and I was looking at the stars. That's all." She turned to smile at Helena and Helena's face lit up.

"I thought you were going again. But you're not, are you? You're really staying."

"Yeah," Myka said, almost shyly. "I'm here to stay."

"Good. Then order some room service and come back to bed," Helena said, playfully. So Myka did.

"I love you," Helena whispered, searching Myka's eyes. She was so beautiful, her hair dishevelled, her head thrown back, her eyes pools of black. The room was dark but she was lit by a shaft of moonlight. Myka thought she'd never seen anything as lovely. She dipped her head and kissed Helena, trying to let her heart speak through her actions. Because she couldn't say the words. She couldn't be in love with a woman. Not even this woman, a time-travelling HG Wells. She couldn't. Her family would disown her.

Helena kissed her back fervently and Myka let go of her thoughts, of her fears, and let herself sink into the moment, the way it all felt. The way Helena felt against her, inside her. She'd thought Helena was gone, the day before, when Pete was going to smash up the Janus coin. She'd been glad, head wound notwithstanding, that Steve and Marcus had found the coin first. And today – they'd won, they'd managed to stop Sykes from destroying the Warehouse. So why couldn't she get the image of Helena in flames out of her head? She swallowed a sob and fell on Helena, their bodies moving together as one organism. She couldn't love Helena – she kept telling herself that - but she was so afraid that she already did. Steve was dead, and every time she thought about his white face and staring eyes, she could just see Helena. Helena dead, Helena gone. The thought spurred her on, and she made love to Helena with an intensity that frightened her. All of her actions said, "I love you," over and over again, and Helena's smile as she looked at Myka, her muscles slack in the afterglow, said that she knew it.

When Helena fell asleep in her arms, she cried silently, her face turned away, as she realised how truly screwed she was. She could choose this, the woman in her arms, or she could choose to be 'normal', and keep her family and friends in Colorado happy. There was no in between; she knew that. And she cried her heart out into the darkness as she tried to think of a way to have both.

A few months after Pete had taken her to the hotel, things had finally settled. Helena had moved into their new room, and Myka and Pete were able to be in the same room again, after a few shouting matches that had ended with them both in tears, then holding each other. Myka's family had, predictably, sent the rest of her belongings back with the letter she sent to them explaining about Helena. There was a note attached that said, "Return to Sender – Myka Bering no longer at this address". That made it pretty clear, Myka thought. She had cried for days, and it was Pete and Helena who'd managed to get her up, out of her sweatpants, and back to work. She missed talking to her Mom. She didn't miss her Dad so much; he'd always been someone she feared more than depended on. And Tracy – well, Tracy had surprised her. A few weeks after the letter had come back, Tracy called Myka to say that she'd only just found out from her parents what had happened, and that she was appalled – at their parents.

"You really thought I would turn on you because you fell in love with a woman?" she asked, her tone hurt.

"I didn't know what to think, Trace. Dad… he told me about Kurt, and he was so… vicious, you know? I didn't know how you would feel, and I was afraid to find out. I almost lost Helena because I was too scared to be with her," Myka admitted.

"I'm just glad you found someone, Myka. You deserve to be happy, sweetie," Tracy said, and a gruff female voice in the background called her, telling her it was time to get back to work.

"Did she just call you Root?" Myka asked, confused.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it, Myka. It's just a nickname. Anyway, I need to get to work. You call me anytime you want to talk, sis. I promise you, I will never judge you. And maybe we could get to talk face to face, sometime soon. I have a few things to tell you too."

Myka felt so much better after that conversation that she couldn't quite put it into words. Helena came through into the library with some tea a few minutes later, to check how Myka was after speaking to her sister, and was pleasantly surprised to see how much better she looked.

The pain of admitting who she was, what she was, who she loved – it had been intense. But it was so much easier than the pain of hiding it all, of suppressing it, of pretending to fit into the narrow box her parents wanted to put her in. She didn't deserve Helena and Pete and the rest of the guys; they'd been too patient with her. But she was endlessly grateful for that patience. Helena had let Myka hurt her; had let Myka pretend to be indifferent. Of all the people in the world, Helena was for her, and she was for Helena. Her parents might get used to it or they might not. She found that she didn't much care, either way. Because if they didn't come round, they didn't love her the way she deserved to be loved. Love shouldn't come with conditions; no-one should have to conform to a standard that they didn't fit just to suit their mother or father or anyone else. She was Myka Bering, and she was in love with Helena Wells, and they could damn well take it and shove it if they had a problem. She was done hurting the people who really loved her to satisfy those who didn't.

"I love you," Helena murmured, without looking up from her book. Myka put her own book down and lay stretched out on the couch, her head in Helena's lap. Helena dropped one hand to her head, playing with her hair gently.

"I love you, too," Myka said, and with those words, she let go of all of the expectations she'd held on to her whole life, the husband and 2.4 kids, settling down to be a full-time mom. She didn't need or want those expectations. Her life would be what it would be. If she wanted kids with Helena, she would have them, and screw her parents if they didn't ever get to know their grandchildren. The kid or kids would have family to spare, here at the Warehouse. Her life was just beginning, and as she lay with Helena's hand gently pulling through her hair, she felt like she could breathe for the first time in her life.