let me get this straight. there was a hug scripted for the ep “vendetta”. let me say that again: there was A HUG SCRIPTED!
WTF, JACK KENNY, W. T. F.?
HOLD THE MOTHERFUCKING PHONE! WHAT?! WHAT IS THAT?! A HUG?!
WHY FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY DID THIS NOT HAPPEN ON THE SCREEN?!
But, you know what? I’ll be okay. Because, I know in my head!canon now that this occurred. They hugged. It was a hug full of promise and emotion and sympathy and love, because Myka needed it and H.G. would never deny her what she needed. And in that hug, they turned their faces toward each other with Myka burying her head in H.G.’s shoulder and they both held the back of each other’s heads close and meaningful in so many ways. Myka let herself be enveloped in that hug because in the contact it made her feel safe, secure, and she let a few tears fall because in H.G.’s arms she knew she’d found a heart true-enough for her to give herself over to whatever pain she felt. H.G. held her and comforted her until the tears were over and Myka’s hands began to slide down her back - giving her so many unwholesome thoughts that she needed to pull away before she turned that one single moment of pure caring into something not suitable for the setting. But H.G.’s heart burned in her chest and she decided to wait for Myka back at her hotel - hoping she could get her alone for even a few moments so she could act on those feelings and bring Myka the comfort and contact they both really wanted from each other.
Yes, I can see why Jack chose to remove that hug…
Unpopular opinion time (I’m going to get shot for this but)
… I agree with Kenny on this one.
In the timeline of the show, Myka letting H.G. hug her at this point just does not work. I can see Helena perhaps wanting to hug Myka, but Myka would never have allowed it. Not yet. Remember that Myka - unlike Pete - is still emotionally very controlled at this point in the series, and even though its clear from the start that there is something about H.G. that draws her, she hasn’t figured out what it is. Not here, not yet. If you ask me, what should have happened is Helena handing Myka her card…
“Here’s how to reach me in D.C.” Helena said softly as she handed the slip of paper to Myka. The younger woman took it and as she did, their fingertips just brushed. Just the merest accidental contact but took all of Helena’s formidable will to hide the hitch in her breathing as her heart leapt in her chest. Silently the artificer damned herself for her own weakness and yet…Helena Wells allowed herself a moment of brutal honesty to admit that her feelings toward Agent Bering had moved past professional respect and admiration almost from the moment they first met. It was ridiculous, she told herself. There was no reason to feel as she did.
Yet of all the mysteries of this world and those she had crafted in her imagination, H.G. Wells had never managed to solve the riddles of the human heart.
She could, and did however, ruthlessly suppress her desire to reach out and gather the woman in front of her into her arms and offer what little comfort was possible in the face of Death’s harsh truth.
Well, tried to suppress it.
Unable to completely bar her own selfish need, Helena reached out slowly and covered Myka’s hand with her own. The agent - who had been staring at Helena’s card as if it held some kind of answer to the painful unknown - started.
But she did not pull away, and Helena’s heart soared, if only for an instant before she reigned it viciously back in.
“I”m sorry about your friend,” the artificer spoke softly, trying to convey the truth of her meaning with a gentle squeeze of the slender fingers below her own.
For the space of too many heartbeats, Myka just stared at her. Those remarkable hazel eyes searched Helena’s own - for what, H.G. could not fathom, perhaps the same things any person looks for when seeking comfort, perhaps some indication that the older woman was mocking Myka’s loss.
Whatever she found seemed to satisfy the younger agent, however. Slowly, Myka turned her hand in Helena’s and gently returned the subtle pressure.
“Thank you.” The words were breathy, rich and laden with a tangle of emotions Helena felt echoed in her own embattled heart. And in that moment of weakness came the knife-edge of want once again. Oh how Helena wanted: To take fierce hold of the hand in hers and never let go, to watch the brilliant eyes in front of her sparkle with laughter and passion, to taste those full soft lips…
The sheer immensity of that desire was like a spear to her gut and Helena jerked back as if burned.
This wasn’t supposed to happen; she wasn’t supposed to feel this much, so soon…and so she ran, walking briskly from the cemetery as fast as the tiniest shred of decorum would allow.
She did not look back over her shoulder to see Myka staring after her. If she had, Helena would have all-too-easily recognized the conflict etched on the younger Agent’s face and the yearning clouding her eyes…