Author's notes:
I know in the game Hunnigan says "That's Helena Harper, she's been with the Secret Service since last year", which makes the timeline I am presenting here inconsistent with the game, but call it artistic liberty. Plus if you really get into Helena's background, you'll find that a lot about it is half-assed (realism-wise) in the game anyway... Everything Resident Evil-related belongs to Capcom and pals. The original storylines, bad puns, and other utter nonsense is mine. Suing me would really be a waste of time, I got nothin'.
Although they called it "Sister Sundays", the event didn't always take place on Sundays. Mostly because both Helena and Deborah were usually working during the weekends.
After their parents had passed away, Helena had wanted to come home and look after Deborah, so after her tour, she'd transferred from the military to work for the CIA, and was currently hoping to land a job at the D.S.O. They could use the few extra bucks a job at the D.S.O. would bring to the table. Deborah's tuition wasn't cheap, and despite working and student loans, she was barely making ends meet. That was when Helena came into the picture, and to Deborah's rescue. Some put their trust in God, saints, angels... Deborah believed in Helena; whatever happened, the older sister was always there to save her.
All the way from defending Deborah in the schoolyard from a bully when they'd been kids (Helena had turned up, tackled the boy and shoved his head into a puddle of muddy water, holding him down long enough to make him believe she truly intended to drown him), to picking her up from boyfriend of the week now when she called in the middle of the night, still a bit high, and having no idea where she was exactly. Deborah had gone through life firmly believing that whatever happened, she'd always land on her feet one way or another. If she couldn't figure it out herself, Helena would fix it. She always did.
This week's "Sister Sunday" happened to take place on a Friday. Helena had fallen asleep on the couch with folders of paperwork regarding stolen weaponized anthrax samples in her arms. She cursed when she jolted awake as her phone rang and the folders fell to the floor, the papers fluttering from them. Rolling her eyes, she didn't even bother trying to pick them up now. Instead, she answered the call.
"It's your favorite sister calling!" Deborah's voice announced cheerfully.
"You're my only sister," Helena pointed out.
"Exactly, so I have to be your favorite. You know what day it is!"
"The day you mess up my kitchen, eat everything in my fridge, and occupy my bathroom for half a day?
"Hey, it's not my fault we don't have bath tubs in the dorms, if we did, I wouldn't need to take over yours every chance I get. Can you pick me up from campus? Jason doesn't feel like driving and my car's making that stupid noise again."
"Ah, so this week's boyfriend is called Jason. Good to know," Helena muttered, and Deborah groaned.
"Don't give me that tone of voice, at least I have a boyfriend, which is more than can be said about you."
"Boyfriends, plural. You change men more often than you change your bra!" Helena scoffed, reaching to the floor and slowly beginning to gather up the papers that were scattered over the carpet.
"And your endless string of one night stands is better how?" Deborah challenged, and Helena already regretted what she was going to say to that, but was unable to stop herself.
"At least in my case we both know exactly what the deal is, you on the other hand call yourself someone's girlfriend and have them feed you until someone cuter comes along. You're practically prostituting yourself."
"Is that what you really think of me?" Deborah breathed and Helena bit her tongue.
"Well, could you blame me if I did?" she then grumbled, slamming the papers on the table and throwing herself to lie back on the couch. This conversation wouldn't end well. They'd had similar ones before, and it had never made a difference, she didn't know why she bothered.
Usually in situations like this Deborah did admit Helena had been right... but she did it only in hindsight, never learning from her mistakes. Instead she became agitated when Helena tried to talk sense into her, remind her that she had told her so before, and that she'd been right then too, and that she would be now.
But this is different! Deborah would always insist, and it was never different. From running off with the weirdest groups of people without even considering that maybe, just maybe they weren't all nice guys, to deciding it was a great idea to spend her last bucks on a bottle of nail polish and a pack of cigarettes rather than save it for food.
She never had to stop and think, to take responsibility. She had Helena; her personal guardian angel and general problem solver. Helena admitted she was more than tempted to let Deborah crash and burn just to teach her a lesson... but the truth was, she knew better. If Deborah would hit rock bottom, she'd make her way back up from there for sure, but she'd also completely forget and ignore the hows and whys of getting there in the first place, and she'd just repeat it, having learned nothing.
"Get off my back, Helena. I might need to lie on it!" Deborah spat, and Helena sighed.
"I'm sorry! I'm just worried about you. Just... don't get an STD. Or pregnant, I can't afford to pay for an abortion, let alone a damn kid."
"Don't worry, throwing myself down the stairs is still free. Hell, if I do it at the right place at the right time, I could even sue for damages, and get paid."
"Oh God," Helena laughed, and Deborah chuckled as well. "All right, here's what we'll do. Drive that junk car of yours over here and I'll take a look at it while you occupy my bathroom, okay?"
"You're the best big sister ever."
"I know, I'm awesome."
The damn exhaust pipe had practically fallen off after rusting through. Helena let out a resigned sigh and muttered obscenities under her breath. She'd given Deborah the money to have it replaced, twice. Apparently something more important had come up. Frankly, thoroughly fixing the ancient 4Runner would probably cost more than buying another car would, but still somehow, a few bucks on random patch jobs and miscellaneous parts always seemed like the most sensible option despite the obvious flaw in logic. Helena went with the old pattern and invested about ten bucks on hose clamps and repair paste. It would be a temporary solution at best.
She should fucking sell this piece of junk for parts while there are any salvageable ones left, Helena thought in annoyance as she slid herself underneath the car and dragged her tools with her. Sighing, she stopped when she found the break and put on her sunglasses that would have to do in lieu of decent safety goggles. They made it a bit harder to see, but the last thing she needed was rust and dirt in her eyes.
Sweating, grunting and swearing, she cut open an empty tin can, folded it and stuck it into the steady part of the exhaust pipe, tucking the other end into the loose part before screwing on the hose clamps and finishing up by smearing a ridiculous amount of the repair paste on it. It wouldn't last long, and it sure as hell wasn't a fume tight patch, but it would do for now, and the next time it broke, she'd tell Deborah to freaking get rid of the car and just walk.
Helena was covered in dirt, rust and a copious amounts of toxic chemicals, and Deborah would undoubtedly be still be occupying the bathroom. She was already in a foul mood and it got only worse when her phone rang and startled her, causing her to jump a little and hit her head on the bottom of the car.
"What!" she practically roared into the phone. The person on the other end of the call was silent for half a second before inquiring, "Helena Harper?"
"None other, what can I do for you? Mind you, if you're selling something, I ain't buyin' shit."
"I'm Ingrid Hunnigan, and I'm calling about your transfer request."
"Oh!" Helena gulped. Great, I'm sure I've already made a wonderful impression, she thought, mentally giving herself a slow, sarcastic applause.
"I am calling to schedule your interview, I could pencil you in for June 3rd , two weeks from now, if you have the time?"
"Wait, you're saying I'm actually being considered for the job?" Helena then frowned.
"Admittedly I had to do some arm-wrestling with the higher ups because the recent... indiscretion, but I consider you a prime candidate. There are six other candidates that I will need to interview and I'm going to be booked for the most part because of that, but if the third won't work for you, we can look into..."
"I'll clear my schedule!" Helena said eagerly. She had nothing to clear thanks to still being suspended from the CIA for smashing a suspect's head through a window. Truth was, she'd only done what everyone else had wanted to... but of course, the agency couldn't publicly condone such behavior from its agents. It was kind of ironic considering the CIA's reputation regarding their interrogation methods.
"Excellent. I'll see you June 3rd then, nine-thirty A.M."
"I'll be there!" Helena promised before ending the call.
When she got back into the apartment, Deborah had thankfully finished her bath and was sitting on the edge of Helena's bed, the towel pooled in her lap. She was helping herself to a handful of Helena's body lotion, without asking as per usual. She paused and frowned at Helena upon noticing her expression.
"You're actually smiling, what happened? Did you witness a car crash?" Deborah teased.
"No, it was a homicide," Helena jested back. "I got a call from the D.S.O. They're actually gonna interview me for the job, and the woman who called said I was a prime candidate!"
"That's awesome!" Deborah exclaimed happily, stood up and went to give Helena a fierce hug.
"Okay, this is weird, please put your clothes on," Helena finally commented after enduring the naked hug for full three seconds.
"It's only as weird as you make it," Deborah shrugged, letting go and proceeding to go grab her clothes. In a way Helena envied Deborah's carefree attitude toward life, her ability to just live without overthinking everything. At times it got her in trouble, that was a fact, but Deborah just shrugged it all off as an adventure. When you don't have a set destination, you can't get lost.
Helena was certain her life would be easier if she could be more like Deborah in that sense, if she'd know how to let go of some of her responsibilities, but then what? She wouldn't know how to be like that, she would just spend the entire time worrying about things not being done her way, in other words they'd get done the wrong way. She couldn't let go of the responsibility because unlike Deborah, Helena didn't have a big sister, always prepared to pick her up and dust her off when she landed flat on her ass after an "adventure".
"Do you have anything to eat? Oh, could you make egg in a toast with bacon?" Deborah inquired then, after having dressed.
"Make it yourself, I have to take a shower, I'm filthy from having crawled under your car," Helena told her.
"But the ones you make are always so much better!"
"Flattery won't turn me into your slave!" Helena laughed as she headed to the bathroom, pulling her shirt over her head.
"Why not, it works with everyone else!" Deborah called out after her.
"I've grown immune to you," Helena responded, locked herself in the bathroom and left Deborah to fend for herself.
Deborah rummaged through Helena's kitchen and found the ingredients she'd been looking for. Instead of cutting the toast, she folded the piece of bread and bit off the middle, and let out a muffled chuckle when she heard Helena singing in the shower. As kids, they'd spent hours singing in the bathroom of the old house they'd grown up in, the acoustics had been marvellous. Apparently Helena hadn't grown out of it.
After having showered and dressed, Helena treaded to the kitchen and reached to grab one of the toasts Deborah had made.
"Hey! Make your own, beetch!"
"Seriously, Deb? We're gonna fight about toast?"
"We're sisters, we're supposed to fight about stupid things, like boys and clothes."
"You have horrible taste in men and clothes, nothing to fight about there," Helena teased, slid the toast slightly over the plate's edge and took a bite of the bread.
"You're such a bitch sometimes," Deborah narrowed her eyes, and followed Helena into the living room with her plate.
"Nonsense, I'm awesome and you know it."
"Well, you have your moments," Deborah agreed then, and poked her elbow into Helena's ribs. "So if you get transferred, will need to travel more?" she then asked.
"I don't know, maybe," Helena shrugged.
"That would suck, I like you close-by."
"You just like having a slave."
"That's merely an added bonus," Deborah jested.
"I don't know what'll happen exactly if I get the job, we'll just have to wait and see."
"You'll get it, the woman said you're a prime candidate! We should celebrate! Let's go out!" Deborah then gasped at her grand idea, and Helena groaned.
"It's a doomed attempt, I hate clubs, and you hate small pubs."
"Oh, live a little, would you? Clearly things are starting to look up for you, who knows, maybe you'll finally meet someone you'd want to stick around even," Deborah quirked an eyebrow.
"What makes you think my life needs improvement? I like it the way it is, without anyone cluttering up my place, eating my food and drinking all of my beer. Well, anyone other than you," Helena poked her tongue out at Deborah.
"Your life consists of going to the gym and going to work, rinse and repeat. I mean, you're a cat away from being a cat-lady! We're going out, and that's that!" Deborah decided for the both of them and went on to rummage through Helena's makeup and wardrobe.
Helena noticed the bouncer at the club hadn't checked Deborah's ID, or marked her under twenty-one. When they got inside, Helena understood why; everyone in there looked like they were barely twelve. Helena felt uncomfortable and ancient, which was ridiculous considering she herself was only twenty-four. She'd always been told she had an old soul, and she had never felt like that more in her life. But, since Deborah seemed to like it here, she decided to stay for now.
Anything for Deb, she's the baby, you gotta love her and look after her, Helena thought, sighing a little when Deborah made her way to the bar and returned with drinks she shouldn't have even been served with.
It took barely fifteen minutes for Deborah to spot a group of her friends at the club. Helena told her to go join them, that she wouldn't mind, but Deborah insisted that Helena go with her. She really didn't want to, there was no way to carry out a decent conversation with the volume of the music being as high as it was... provided she'd even want to try and have a conversation with any of these people. Odds were she wouldn't.
Deborah grabbed Helena's arm and pulled her with her across the dance floor and to the table where her friends were. Helena offered a fake smile and held up a hand in a "Yes, hello, I am the infamous big sister"-gesture as Deborah reached to speak into everyone's ear to introduce Helena. A tall guy wearing a tight T-shirt that let everyone see he had muscles made his way to them with a tray full of shots. He glanced at Helena, having missed the introduction, but offered her a shot and a smile. She declined both of them.
She'd known him for full two seconds and had already decided she didn't like him. Something about him just screamed that he was a jerk. He shrugged his buff shoulders at her obvious hostility, knocked back his drink and went to Deborah. Judging from the way she pressed herself to him and wrapped her arm around his waist as he leaned to kiss her temple Helena deduced the guy had to be Jason, the boyfriend of the week.
Sipping her beer, Helena turned to watch the people on the dance floor. A mass of overheated bodies, squirming and writhing, reeking of cheap perfumes and bodysprays, both of which failed to cover the stench of amphetamine sweat. All convinced they were now more alive than ever, and that they'd remain in that state of false immortality even the morning after. Helena couldn't understand how or why anyone would ever come here voluntarily.
She supposed enjoying this was a privilege reserved for those drunk on mere foolish youth, always firmly believing nothing bad could ever happen to them and that someone would come to their rescue if the unthinkable actually did happen. Someone with an ancient soul.
"Deb, I'm gonna go."
"No, we just got here!"
"You stay, I wanna go home, okay?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah, it's fine. You know the drill!"
"Yes ma'am, I'll report in regularly to let you know I am alive and well!" Deborah said, offering Helena a salute.
"At ease! And call me if you need anything, you know I'll come get you."
"I know, I'll be okay."
"Stay out of trouble."
"When don't I?" Deborah chuckled and waved a goodbye to Helena as the older sister made her way toward the exit, leaving behind almost a full pint.
Helena had been meaning to walk home, but she found herself not really wanting to go there. While she didn't exactly feel like celebrating in the sense Deborah had suggested, she did feel like doing something other than curling up and binge-watching bad reality-TV. She had a craving she couldn't quite put her finger on at first, but when she could practically taste Coke, peanuts and whiskey, she figured it out. Coke, peanuts and whiskey was what her friend Trinity called her signature cocktail.
She'd known Trinity a few years, they'd met while they'd been in the army. After service, Trinity had opened up a nightclub, the kind which had no signs of neon lights and loud dance music. Deborah would've called it a museum rather than a nightclub had she ever had a reason to visit. It wasn't only an elegant club, it was also exclusive.
Helena knew someone with her social status and pedigree wouldn't have had anything to do in there had she not known the owner. Trinity had once confessed to her that she hadn't planned any of it, that the place had just... naturally evolved into what it was now. Somewhere along the line it had become an exclusive club, with a strict "no boys allowed"-policy. A policy which the owner hadn't really had anything to do with, it had just become a silent law she hadn't challenged.
Helena didn't visit very often, frankly she felt slightly out of place here. Most of the women frequenting the club were older, usually in positions of power, or at the very least married to men who were. Most of them were also so deep in the closet they could've reached Narnia had they wanted to. Helena preferred them that way, those were the ones who weren't looking for anything long-term. They'd spend the night, and go back home, no fuss, no drama, and should they ever run into each other again afterward, they knew they should pretend to be oblivious.
"Helena! Long time no see!" Trinity greeted her as she took a seat at the bar. Without a word, the bartender made her signature cocktail, almost as if having read the younger woman's mind.
"I decided to celebrate a recent job prospect that's looking kinda good," Helena smiled as Trinity slid over the glass filled with Coke, peanuts and whiskey.
"Congrats! First one's on me," Trinity winked. "You don't come around often enough!" she then scolded.
"You know how it is, work and stuff," Helena shrugged, and Trinity quirked an eyebrow.
"I'm beginning to think you're seeing other bartenders!" she pouted, and Helena laughed.
"You know you're my one true bartender, and if you weren't so damn straight, I'd gladly show you just how much I appreciate you," Helena flirted, and Trinity chuckled.
"I'm almost tempted," she grinned, then glanced over Helena's shoulder and offered the younger woman a knowing smile.
"Buuut... I'm thinking you're already spoken for," she winked and went to serve the customers at the other end of the bar. Helena frowned but didn't ask. It wasn't unusual for her to get attention relatively quickly over here, she kind of stuck out. Question was who was giving her the attention.
Helena waited for a moment to see if someone would approach her, but since no one did, she glanced over the room, trying to look like she wasn't looking. Perhaps Trinity had been mistaken? No, that wasn't it; as she glanced around, Helena noticed several pairs of eyes fixed to herself, but no one was daring to make move.
Do I look that intimidating? she wondered, amused. When she finally located the person Trinity must have been talking about, Helena realized she was the intimidating one, not Helena. The way she stared at Helena silently screamed "Mine", it would be foolish from anyone to try and come between her and Helena.
She glanced over the woman, deciding she quite liked the way she looked. The tied back hair combined with the glasses and the formal collared shirt gave her the "sexy secretary"-look, but judging from her demeanor, she was far from a secretary. No, this was a woman who was used to making decisions of her own rather than blindly following orders.
Normally Helena was the one giving that look to whoever she had decided to take home with her. Anywhere else these women could've been in positions of power, they could've ruled the world for all Helena cared, but for as long as they were with her, she was in charge, she was the alpha. Except now she was being challenged, and the challenger was quickly shoving Helena off the throne.
The woman staring at her offered a small smile when she became aware of having caught Helena's attention. A silent invitation to come over, making it clear that Helena was the one who would come to her, she wouldn't go to Helena. She admitted she was quite enjoying this subtle power struggle.
If you think I'm just gonna give in and be your bitch without a fight, you're mistaken, Helena thought, returning the smile with a hint of defiance in it. Her bravado was met with mirth, and Helena's eyebrow quirked. The woman across the room was obviously interested, but at the same time she made it clear that even though she wanted Helena, she didn't need her.
How infuriating, Helena thought. She turned back to face the bar and nodded at Trinity, who dutifully returned to refill Helena's glass.
"I would've thought you'd already be ravishing her, why are you two still on the opposite sides of the room?" Trinity teased, subtly indicating the woman sitting at her table.
"I'm used to being the alpha, and she's... challenging me. I'm not sure how to behave," Helena chuckled.
"Aw, is widdle Hewena skewrd?" Trinity taunted and slid the drink over to the young woman, who laughed, nodding her head.
"A little intimidated, it's not every day I find myself in a situation with the tables turned on me," she grinned.
"Well, don't wait too long," Trinity said, quirking an eyebrow and Helena turned to glance over. A woman stood by the table, talking to the one Helena had nicknamed "Alpha", she hadn't been invited to take seat... yet anyway. The Alpha listened to the other woman, a polite smile on her lips, but Helena noticed the smile didn't reach all the way to her eyes. Helena wasn't surprised, she recognized the woman talking to the Alpha. Her name was Christa, or Christi, or Crystal, or something like that. Kinda cute, but ridiculously boring both inside and outside the bedroom, Helena recalled.
"Trinity, you wouldn't happen to remember what she ordered?" Helena inquired then.
"Sorry no, but I'm guessing it was a Manhattan," Trinity offered after taking a long look at the glass on the Alpha's table. "And even if it wasn't, you can't really go wrong with a Manhattan."
"Two of those then," Helena grinned, and the bartender proceeded to make the drinks. Moments later, Helena made her way across the room and smoothly slid to sit next to the Alpha.
"Sorry it took me so long, the line at the bar was ridiculous," Helena rolled her eyes as she put the drinks down and pressed her side against the Alpha's, pretending they'd been here together for the entire evening.
"Hey don't I know you? Christi, was it?" she then asked the woman who still stood there, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.
"Christal actually. Uhm... I should get going. Was nice seeing you again," she muttered awkwardly before making a hasty exit.
"Cheeky," the Alpha commented at Helena's stunt.
"Believe me, I did you a favor."
"And to whom do I owe my gratitude?"
"Name's Helena."
"Leigh," the Alpha introduced herself.
"You don't look like a Leigh. I prefer the nickname I gave you better," Helena shrugged, and the other woman quirked an eyebrow.
"You've already presumed to give me a nickname? You really are cheeky."
"I've also decided that after we've finished these drinks, we're going to my place. How's that for cheeky?" Helena grinned.
Leigh chuckled softly at her confidence, and sucked on her lips as she glanced over Helena once more as if trying to decide if she'd be worth taking a bite out of.
"All right, I'll call your bluff," Leigh said, offering a lopsided grin before finishing her drink and standing up.
Leigh was... different. She wasn't in a hurry like people usually were, frantically seeking for release, almost as if afraid Helena would suddenly disappear unless they hurried. Instead, she explored Helena's body patiently, taking the time to trace the contours of the well-muscled arms, sliding her hands up and silently appreciating the beautifully shaped deltoids. Her touches were soft, slow, warm... driven by desire, not lust. A small detail that made all the difference, the difference between fucking and making love.
With every person Helena had been with, at some point, she'd always taken a moment to look into the other person's eyes, and tried to imagine looking into them later. She wasn't afraid of commitment like Deborah had implied, she just hadn't found anyone she'd genuinely want next to her for several mornings after, one would be enough.
But looking at Leigh, Helena found herself not wanting to let her go. She regarded her with affection that passed for genuine even if it probably wasn't. She kissed differently, she touched differently, she was... so very different. She did the same things everyone else had done before, but when she did them, they felt like they really meant something.
Leigh's alarm went off at four-thirty in the morning, they'd managed to get barely a couple of hours of sleep. Helena groaned in protest when the warmth left her side, she would've preferred having Leigh spoon her for a lot longer.
"Getting up at this hour is inhumane!" Helena complained, rubbing her eyes, and Leigh chuckled.
"Go back to sleep, I can find my way out fine," she said, and Helena sat up.
But I don't want you to leave.
"Sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast? I make an awesome egg in a toast," Helena tried, and Leigh smiled.
"Can't, early morning."
"Who has an early morning on a Saturday?" Helena challenged the excuse.
"Someone who works the weekends obviously," Leigh responded with a chuckle as she dressed. Helena couldn't think of anything to argue with the logic of that, so she sat up silently and grabbed her shirt from the foot of the bed, slowly pulling it on.
Usually at this part of the one night stand, she was glad to see the other person understand they shouldn't overstay. Helena wasn't a jerk about it, she always made an offer for breakfast, half-hearted as it was at times depending on the other person. Some people lingered, expected a phone number and a promise of doing this again. This was the first time Helena wanted someone to linger.
Oh my God, I'm that girl, she then thought when she found herself contemplating on offering her number to Leigh.
"Uhm... I'm sorry if there's been some misunderstanding, I thought we were on the same page about this," Leigh then commented, as if having read Helena's mind.
"No, no, you're right, we are," Helena stuttered.
"...all right then," Leigh said slowly as she buttoned up her shirt, tied her hair back and reached to grab her glasses from the nightstand. Helena got out of bed as Leigh slipped her heels on and began to make her way out of the bedroom.
"I had a great time," Leigh said at the door.
"Me too," Helena nodded in agreement. Leigh leaned in to kiss her, pressing her lips onto Helena's softly, letting the tip of her tongue lightly touch Helena's lower lip and taste her breath, retreating then rather than deepening the kiss.
"Bye," she whispered smiling, opened the door and stepped outside, and walked out of Helena's life without looking back. When the door closed behind her, Helena leaned against it and inhaled deeply, letting it out in a slow sigh.
That's it then, she mused, swallowing hard, realizing she suddenly felt pretty lousy when she thought about the fact that she'd probably never see Leigh again.
Ridiculous, she scolded herself, shaking her head and heading back to bed, trying to get a few more hours of sleep. She pulled the pillow to her chest and cuddled it, inhaling the other woman's scent which was still lingering on the sheets.
Helena woke up to the sound of her phone ringing around nine in the morning. Groaning, she reached to pick it up and grunted a hello of sorts.
"Helena? Uhm... could you come get me?" Deborah requested. Helena perked up at the tone of her voice immediately, something was wrong.
"Where are you?" she asked, already getting out of bed and shoving her legs into her jeans.
"I'm at the hospital."
"What happened?" Helena frowned.
"I don't wanna talk about it, just please get me home," Deborah pleaded.
"If someone hurt you, I swear I'll—"
"Please, just... We'll talk about it later okay?"
"All right... Which hospital?" Helena then gave in.
Twenty minutes later they were making their way back over to Helena's. Deborah's forearm was in a cast, she had a small fracture which fortunately wouldn't take too long to heal, but still. Reluctantly she explained to Helena that she'd gotten into an argument with Jason, she couldn't even remember what it had been all about, they'd both been drunk. At some point he'd lost his temper and shoved her out of his way, and she'd fallen against a table, hitting her forearm on it hard enough to fracture the bone.
When they got to the apartment, Helena offered Deborah a painkiller and made a bed for her on the couch. She was a bit out of it still, not due to painkillers but because she was still a bit drunk.
"Try to sleep it off, okay?" Helena said quietly as she sat on the edge of the couch and reached to run her fingers through Deborah's hair gently.
"Okay... And Helena..? Please don't do anything stupid."
"I never do," Helena grinned.
The moment the younger sister was asleep, Helena reached to grab Deborah's phone and went through the phone numbers. After finding Jason's, she did a reverse search, and after getting his address, she headed out. Jason was a dead man.
Helena ran her hand over the white surface of the door, and it practically caved in under her touch. Cheap, not much better than a piece of cardboard. All the better for Helena. She then pressed her ear against it, listening quietly for a moment. The TV was on, Jason was home.
Helena retreated as far back as she could in the narrow hallway before launching herself against the door, easily knocking it off of its hinges. She marched to the young man sitting in an arm chair, his mouth hanging open in disbelief as he witnessed the furious woman invade his home. When he was finally able to move and began to stand up, Helena immediately threw him back with a roundhouse kick that sent him stumbling over the coffee table.
"Let's see you take on someone your own size," Helena growled at him, gripped the front of his shirt with her right hand and balled the left one into a fist. She drew it back and punched his cheek at first, then furiously delivering frantic blows with less precision. When her fist began to hurt too much, she drew her gun and cocked it.
"Please," he groaned, blood and saliva spluttering from his mouth and broken nose as he spoke. She pressed the muzzle of the gun against his ear and pulled the trigger, the bullet tearing the thin flesh and cartilage, destroying his ear. He screamed, she slowly stood up, the gun still firmly pointed at his head.
"Police! Drop the gun! Drop it now! Get on the floor! Hands behind your head!" an officer yelled at her.
That was quick, Helena thought. She put the gun down and was about to comply with the rest of the orders when he tackled her and pressed his knee on her back, cuffing her arms behind her back before yanking her up.
Helena was charged with aggravated assault, and she was fully expecting to be sentenced to do some serious jail time and pay ridiculous amounts of money to compensate for the damages she'd done to Jason, but her defense attorney turned out to be a particularly slick one. She didn't know who'd sent him, he'd only told her that "the agency" had hired him.
He argued Helena shouldn't be held liable for her actions because she hadn't been able to control herself. He reminded the jury that Helena was a decorated veteran, and a government agent, that she'd only reacted this way to protect her sister. He was convincing enough to cause the jury to deadlock, leaving the judge no other choice but to declare a mistrial. The look on Jason's face was worth seeing when the prosecutor said there wouldn't be a retrial. He knew it was a wasted effort, any defense attorney would know how to utter the words "decorated veteran", and bring up the battered younger sister, odds were at least one of any jury would side with Helena.
All right... that was too close. I need to... chill before I fuck everything up for good, Helena thought to herself as she was leaving the courthouse.
"Yay for mistrial, let's go celebrate!" Deborah said when Helena got back to her apartment (which Deborah had recently practically taken over) and told her how it had all gone.
"Oh God, Deborah, haven't you learned anything?" Helena groaned in exasperation, and Deborah laughed heartily.
"I was just teasing you! Besides, celebrating doesn't always have to mean getting wasted and going out clubbing. I was thinking we could celebrate by eating too much pizza and peanut butter cups, and binge watch America's next top model," Deborah smiled happily.
"Now that I can do," Helena nodded in agreement and slumped on the couch, running her hand over her face.
"Great! Now, you just wait here and relax, I'll get the goodies! ...er, provided you give me money, I'm broke."
"What else is new?" Helena laughed sarcastically and dug into her wallet.
Monday, June 3rd, nine-twenty A.M. Helena made her way across the parking lot and toward the D.S.O. headquarters. It was cutting close, but unless she got lost, she didn't think she'd be late for her interview with Ingrid Hunnigan. Her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as she treaded across a shiny marble floor and toward the elevator.
She'd been expecting the place to be crawling with busy agents rushing back and forth, but it was oddly quiet, just a few security guards and checkpoints at the entrance. Perhaps all the action was taking place somewhere deeper in the building, or logically most action was happening in the field where the majority of the agents worked.
"Hold the elevator!" a voice requested and Helena stuck her arm out to keep the doors from closing.
"Thank— oooh dear."
"Leigh!" Helena breathed at the sight of the woman in a pinstripe pantsuit, a laptop bag over her shoulder, and a phone in her hand. She thumbed the screen to rudely hang up on whoever had been on the other end of the line.
"Well, this is awkward," Leigh commented and reached to push a button on the wall at the same time as Helena did, realizing they were headed to the same floor. Helena didn't know what to say, what the hell was there to say? This was definitely the longest, and the most awkward elevator ride she'd ever been on. To her disappointment, the uncomfortable situation stretched on as they headed in the same direction after arriving to their floor.
Helena felt like she was somehow about to throw up her heart. She swallowed hard to chase away the phantom lump in her throat and inhaled deeply. Once they reached the end of the hallway and she saw the silver colored plaque on the door, she could've fainted.
I. L. Hunnigan... I bet my tits and pack of cigarettes I know what the L stands for, she thought.
"Welcome to my office," Leigh, or Ingrid Hunnigan to be precise, said and opened the door, offering Helena a silent "after you"-gesture with her hand.
"Well... this is terribly uncomfortable," Helena muttered. Hunnigan didn't have a chance to comment, there was a knock on the door and the other officer interviewing the candidates, and Helena's current superior officer entered the room.
"All right, since we're all here, let's get started," Hunnigan said, opening her laptop and logging on.
"Actually, that won't be necessary," officer Locke said.
"What are you talking about? You can't presume to be making a decision already, we haven't even interviewed—" Hunnigan began to say, but Helena's superior Cassidy chimed in, interrupting her.
"We're dismissing agent Harper as a candidate," he said.
"What, why?" Hunnigan demanded, and Helena briefly wondered if it was because they'd somehow found out she'd accidentally slept with a superior officer before even getting interviewed for the job. Had she been thinking logically, she would've been able to deduce the real reason with ease.
"We were updated about an incident agent Harper was involved in, I've emailed you the report," Locke told Hunnigan.
"Wait, that's a closed matter, I wasn't convicted of anything!" Helena argued.
"You shot someone's ear off," Hunnigan groaned after reading the main points of the report, pushed her glasses to her forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose. Well, this was certainly going splendidly.
"He broke my sister's arm!"
"We're not here to debate the case, as you said, it's done and dealt with as far as the courts go. But this agency cannot condone such behavior from its agents. I'm sorry, but your candidacy for the D.S.O. is no longer considered. You will be transferred to the Secret Service," Cassidy said.
"But, sir, that's..!"
"Not negotiable, agent Harper!"
June 26th 2013.
Helena sipped her coffee and cringed at the bitterness of the beverage. She figured she'd lost track and had accidentally added an extra scoop while preparing the coffee. She accepted she had no time to make a fresh pot; the President was scheduled to give a speech at the Ivy University in three days which meant the Secret Service was busy, and that in return meant she couldn't afford to be late. Especially not when considering her reputation was already lousy, adding tardiness to that wouldn't help.
Helena was about to step out of the door when her phone rang. Grunting in annoyance, she dug it out of her pocket and sighed when she saw who the caller was.
"Deborah, I really don't have the time right now."
"Help me!" the younger woman's voice pleaded, and Helena tensed up.
"Where are you?" she asked, but the only response she got was a series of hysterical, shallow breaths.
"Deb, listen to me, listen to me..! Calm down, okay? Just... try to calm down, and tell me where you are, and I'll come get you home, I promise," Helena tried. There was a scratching sound when the phone was taken from Deborah and handled by someone else.
"Agent Harper," a male voice greeted.
"I don't know who you are, or what you want, but if you don't let my sister go right now, I will find you, and I will kill you."
"Well... I can certainly make the finding me part of that easier. I want you to come to the Tall Oaks cathedral. We can discuss the terms of your sister's release then," the man said and ended the call.
July 11th 2013.
Contrary to the common belief, Ingrid Hunnigan wasn't untouchable. She was close to being, but not quite. Harboring two agents who'd been considered domestic terrorists was a serious charge even she wasn't immune to. As was the charge of conspiracy to commit treason. Of course she'd known two weeks ago that should this operation go tits up, she'd certainly get her share of blame.
My parole officer hasn't even been born yet, she remembered thinking when she'd submitted a report in which she'd stated that agents Kennedy and Harper had presumably been killed in action during the sterlization of Tall Oaks.
She'd watched. She'd waited. She'd put together reports, gathered little bits and pieces of data from various sources and agencies, slowly and meticulously putting together a timeline. She'd looked for evidence, and for what little she'd found, she'd looked for the original sources to try and confirm was the data reliable or not.
While she'd never had a reason to doubt Leon and Helena's word, she'd known it would take more than that to convince the agency, the White House and the people of Simmons's guilt. The data Leon had brought back from China had proven Simmons was the one behind it all, but while the data, the reports, and the timeline all matched, it bothered her that Leon refused to tell her where he'd gotten the data from.
"Does it matter?" he'd asked when she'd wanted to know. No, it didn't matter since it all added up, but it would've made it easier to accept and present to the various agencies demanding evidence had she been able to provide a credible source. Or any source for that matter.
Fortunately the investigating commission accepted the evidence, and thus Leon and Hunnigan were cleared. Helena's charges however were still being considered. As strong as the evidence was, and as loudly as Hunnigan and Leon argued for her defense, the fact that she'd abandoned her post and allowed the President to be infected still remained. The fact that she'd been coerced didn't seem to weigh as heavily as one would've expected.
Helena sat on the steps leading to the headquarters and leaned back, wrapping her arms around her knees. She closed her eyes, taking a few moments to enjoy the warmth of the early evening sun on her skin. The commission had said they'd make their decision by tomorrow, she was relatively certain these were her last chances of doing this. The standard sentence for high treason was still life in jail, wasn't it?
Not that it matters where I am, I'm not needed anywhere anymore, she thought grimly. She opened her eyes and glanced to her side. An agent in a suit stood in the shade, and she chuckled. He wasn't trying to hide, she was more than aware of having agents trailing her, a condition she'd agreed to over waiting for her sentence in jail. He was trying to stay cool, and Helena didn't envy the poor guy. Having to wear a black suit in July should've been considered a form of torture.
Helena turned her attention to her other side when Hunnigan walked to her, took a seat on the steps as well and mimicked Helena's position, tucking her laptop bag underneath her thighs.
"I can see your underwear," Helena commented, glancing at the skirt which hitched halfway up Hunnigan's thighs.
"No you can't," she stated in amusement.
"Could I be seeing your underwear?" Helena inquired then.
"You are incorrigible," Hunnigan chuckled.
"Naw, I'm full of hot air and stupid jokes are all I have to offer at the moment," Helena sighed, more depressed than amused.
"It'll be okay," Hunnigan assured her, managing to sound rather convincing. Years of experience telling that to anyone ever requesting for backup made sure of that. Whether or not she genuinely believed her own words didn't affect the confident tone with which she delivered them.
"I doubt it. But at least my last day as a free woman is a nice one," Helena murmured.
It doesn't matter. It doesn't have to be okay. I'm tired of fighting... and I don't even have anything to fight for anymore. So what's it all supposed to be for? she mused privately, not wanting to tell all this to Hunnigan. Not wanting to admit out loud that she'd given up. That she didn't even give a good God damn anymore.
Hunnigan stood up, shouldered her laptop bag and offered her hand to Helena. The younger woman quirked an eyebrow, half expecting Hunnigan to say something along the lines of "Come with me if you want to live". She didn't say anything though, and once again Helena found herself in a position where she was willingly giving in to Hunnigan in a way she usually never would've done with anyone else. She took Hunnigan's hand, stood up and followed the older woman as she led her across the yard to the parking lot, her hand still in Helena's.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Well, since you're so convinced this is your last day as a free woman, why not make it count?" Hunnigan smiled.
"You do realize I have a bunch of agents tailing me, your reputation will be shot if they see you hang out with me," Helena quirked an eyebrow and Hunnigan laughed, shaking her head a little.
"Wolves don't lose sleep over the opinion of sheep."
The small Irish pub best known for being what one would call "a cop bar" was bustling with off-duty officers and government agents enjoying their Friday night. Helena had been declared innocent and she'd not only been reinstated, but also finally transferred to work for the D.S.O. The thanks for her transfer actually going through belonging in no small part to Leon and Hunnigan, who'd vouched for her skills and determination. She figured she should've been celebrating the promotion and avoiding a prison sentence, but her mood was anything but cheerful.
"My God, woman, you look so sour you make lemons seem sweet," Leon commented when he walked up to her and took a seat next to her at the bar.
"You could say I'm the lime to life's lemons," Helena shrugged, and he laughed, a bit too loudly. He wasn't drunk, but he was definitely tipsy.
"Look at this, it'll cheer you up," Leon said and took out his phone.
"If you show me a dick pic, I swear to God..."
"Don't be ridiculous, if you want the D, you gotta at least buy me a drink first!" he laughed and proceeded to show Helena a series of pictures of sharks. Only someone had Photoshopped them and replaced their jaws with buck-toothed human mouths.
"All right, you win," Helena said, unable to keep herself from giggling a little with him.
"Take it from someone who has been there and done that more than once... It gets better in time. Take the furlough, spend a week binge drinking, another recovering, and you'll be good as new," Leon then said more seriously.
"That's your professional advice?" Helena asked, offering a lopsided smile.
"You can bet your boobs it is!" he said and raised his glass, clinking it against Helena's and took a big gulp of his drink.
"Cheers," she chuckled and mimicked his gesture.
He sat with her, offering to get wasted with her, and she accepted the offer. Right now getting drunk sounded like a good idea to be honest. It wasn't a solution, but if anyone ever needed an excuse to get drunk, she and Leon certainly had a plethora of them.
"So, you never told me story of Leon and Ada," Helena then prompted, and he offered a rueful smile.
"Ah, well. We keep bumping into each other, and she never stays for long," Leon said, chuckling a little then before continuing to tell the story of how he'd met Ada in Raccoon city a long time ago. Helena listened, wondering just how two people could keep playing cat and mouse like that for such a long time. It was obvious they had feelings for each other, why didn't they just... Well, Ada was an international spy, Leon was a government agent. Helena imagined the difference in their line of work alone would've made the usual "and how was your day, honey?"-conversation a bit complicated.
"Okay, okay, but... what if she's the love of your life, and you never chased her?" Helena questioned, slurring a little, and Leon laughed. Obviously the young woman didn't know Ada. Then again, who really did?
"If I had a quarter for every time I chased her and ended up with nothing to show for it, I'd be able to buy this bar," he chuckled, and took a sip of his drink. "It doesn't work that way, you don't catch Ada unless she wants you to catch her," he continued, shaking his head.
Kind of like Hunnigan in some ways. She doesn't come to me, I go to her, I play by her rules, and the most disturbing part is that I don't even mind being her toy, Helena mused privately, inhaling sharply as arousal lanced through her when she thought about what she'd assumed would be her last night as a free woman. A night she'd spent with Hunnigan, doing things that would've made Hugh Hefner blush. And yet, when they'd met earlier today when she and Leon had delivered Helena the news of her reinstatement, Hunnigan had acted as if nothing had happened.
"Hello? What are you thinking?" Leon tried waking her from her thoughts. Helena cleared her throat a little and shook her head.
The way the muscles in Hunnigan's thighs tense up, how her back arches and her hips buck when she's about to cum... How quiet she is aside from those few, soft breaths... How fucking exquisite she is, I'm almost tempted to tell you just to brag. That's what I'm thinking about, agent Kennedy.
"Nothing," she shrugged, but Leon wasn't convinced. He stared at her, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes.
"What?" Helena frowned.
"Are you blushing?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Helena snorted, and felt the heat rise to her cheeks, becoming even more profound now that he'd drawn attention to it.
"Oh, you're totally in love with me, aren't you?" Leon grinned, wiggling an eyebrow, and Helena chuckled.
"Yeah, I can barely contain my orgasms when you're near," she gasped dramatically.
"So if it isn't me... although I cannot see how you could possibly resist all this... who is it?"
"It's Nonya Biznes!"
"Why is it okay for you to interrogate me about Ada, but when we brush the subject of your love life, you shut down?" Leon pouted.
"Because I asked first."
"How is that fair?"
"Didn't say it was," Helena shrugged.
"Tell me"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Because no!"
"I'm getting the strangest feeling of déjá vu right now. Tell me!"
"I'm in love with Hunnigan!" Helena snapped finally to shut him up, and Leon's eyebrows rose so high they were practically reaching his hairline.
"Say what! How'd that happen?"
"I didn't plan it, okay? I accidentally slept with her before..."
"How do you accidentally sleep with someone?" Leon interrupted, now frowning deeply. "What, did you trip and land face first between her legs or something?"
Well, you're almost correct, Helena mused, closing her eyes briefly as she took a second to relive the moments when Hunnigan had straddled her face. That, and a few other moments she felt best kept private from Leon.
"No, I mean I met her before I knew who she was. It was supposed to be just a one night stand, but..." she said out loud.
"Well, I'm surprised."
"Imagine how fucking surprised I was when I walked to the HQ for my job interview and saw her."
"You got hired, I guess you made a good impression," Leon laughed, leaning his elbow to the bar and resting his cheek in his palm lazily.
"It was definitely the best sex I've ever had, and judging from the handful of times she came thanks to yours truly, I'm guessing she has no complaints either," Helena shrugged, and paused then, her eyes widening a little. "Shit, I didn't just say that out loud, did I?" she groaned then, and judging from Leon's lecherous grin, she had.
"Yeeeeah, well, think of that the next time you're jerking off," she then told him, and finished her beer.
"Oh, I will, I will," he promised. "Does she know about your feelings?" he inquired then, and Helena shook her head.
"Hunnigan is... I mean... She'll rock your world, but she won't take you home to meet mom and dad, you know? No way I'd ever tell her."
"But what if she's the love of your life and you never chased her?"
"Don't you fucking dare use my own words against me!" Helena gasped and slapped his shoulder as he sniggered at her. He then leaned closer to her, swaying a little due to his drunken condition, and whispered, "I think we should call her!"
"No! Leon, wait! LEON!" Helena yelled and chased after him as he rushed out of the bar, laughing like a bratty brother fully enjoying emotionally torturing his sister.
Hunnigan put her glass of wine down on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch, thumbing through the pages of Neil Gaiman's latest. She'd just found her spot and opened the book when her phone rang.
Oh, for the love of... she groaned internally and reached for the object causing her annoyance. Frowning after seeing Leon's name, she answered the call. The first few seconds of the call he didn't speak, merely breathed heavily, and Hunnigan's frown deepened.
"You know, in some states obscene phone calls are considered a class one misdemeanor, you could even go to jail for it," Hunnigan commented.
"Hah! Well, if I'm already in trouble, at least tell me what you're wearing," he laughed, still out of breath, and Hunnigan was certain she could hear Helena screaming at him from a distance.
"My glasses," she answered dryly. "What the hell is going on, are you in trouble?" Hunnigan then asked when Leon finally got back on the line. She sat up straight, and put the book down, half ready to rush to the HQ and to his rescue.
"Not yet, I might be if Helena catches me," he laughed.
"Are you drunk?"
"...maybe."
"Seriously, Leon, what the hell are you doing? Why are you drunk-dialing me and running away from Helena?"
"I'm running away from Helena because she said she'll kill me if I—"
His voice was drowned by a loud crash, and the call ended soon after. Hunnigan stared at her phone for a moment, trying to decide should she call him back to make sure he was okay. Either he'd been hit by a car or Helena had caught up with him. Surely he was fine, he'd survived more serious situations. Then again, it would bother her if she didn't check up on him.
Sighing, she dialed his number. The operator informed her that the person she was trying to reach wasn't available at this time. She ended the call and dialed Helena's number then.
"Yes?" she answered almost immediately.
"I just got a very confusing call from Leon and wanted to make sure he's still alive, I got the impression you were together and since his phone is off..." Hunnigan explained her business. Judging from Leon's drunken rendition of The Beatles' "She loves you" Hunnigan could hear from the background, she deduced the man was all right.
"He is fine," Helena confirmed tensely. His phone wasn't, she'd snatched it from him and thrown it into the traffic and it had been run over by a truck, but that wasn't something Hunnigan needed to know... unless she'd end up being the one to put in a requisition order for a new one for Leon, and he'd tell her what happened to his old phone.
"Okay... Well, good."
"...was there... anything else?"
"Uhm... no, carry on."
"You too, good night!" Helena said, hastily ending the call.
"G'night..." Hunnigan muttered at the dial tone. Rolling her eyes in annoyance at the agents' shenanigans, she tossed her phone aside and returned to her book.
"Hey, I was just trying to do you a favor! Imagine how horrible it'll be for you to have to work with her every day, knowing you never even tried," Leon defended himself when Helena threatened to brutally murder him for the hundredth time.
"And you imagine how horrible it would be if I told her and she'd tell me to fuck off, and believe me, she'd definitely tell me to fuck off."
"Fine, keep figuratively chewing on tinfoil, but don't say I didn't try to help you."
"I'd rather you dropped a bowling ball on my toes than 'helped' me!"
"I'll remember that," he laughed.
"I'm going home, and I refuse to ever discuss this with you again," Helena informed him and hailed a cab.
"Women," he chuckled as he watched her disappear into the backseat of the yellow car. Helena gave the driver her address and leaned back, sighing deeply.
Why the hell did I have to go and fall in love, and with her out of all people! Why her? she questioned herself.
Because Hunnigan was different. Because she'd challenged Helena, and that had surprised her and excited her in a way no one else ever had before. Because she'd made Helena the one who was begging for the slightest touch. Because she kissed better, tasted better, felt better than anyone else before her had. Because she was like white hot iron Helena couldn't keep her hands away from despite knowing she shouldn't touch or she'd burn herself worse than ever before. Because it was nature's law to want something you knew you couldn't have.
Look, don't touch. Touch, don't taste. Taste, don't swallow.
Helena felt like she was speeding toward a head-on collision, aware of it but unable to do anything but wait for the inevitable crash, and anticipate the pain that would follow the accident. Pain she would love feeling just to be able to feel anything in lieu of something better than hurt.
The little bit of optimism living in a drop of blood tucked away in the corner of her heart suggested she should take Leon's advice. Tell Hunnigan, suggest she tried Helena on for size; who knew, maybe for her she'd be just right, the one whose side she wouldn't want to leave. That argument was quickly trumped by the loud voice of realism which reminded her that Hunnigan hadn't had any trouble leaving Helena's side. Not last night, not the one they'd shared before that, and should they share a third one in the future, she'd leave just as effortlessly as she had before.
And still I want to go to her, let her burn me and hollow out my heart, all just to see her back arch in that exquisite way it does. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
"It's three in the morning, this had better be a booty call," Hunnigan grumbled into the phone. She'd just begun drifting to sleep when it had rang, startling her awake. Her heart rate still hadn't returned to normal levels.
"I need to talk to you," Helena muttered.
"Right now?" Hunnigan sighed, and sat up in bed.
"Yes. Can I come over?"
"Usually if I want guests, I'll invite them..."
"I really need to see you."
"Fine," Hunnigan caved in and gave Helena her address. Twenty minutes later, the young woman was knocking on her door, and Hunnigan went to let her in, but when she opened the door, Helena didn't move, just stood there, eyes cast down, refusing to meet Hunnigan's.
"You came all this way just to stare at my doorstep?" Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow after a long moment of silence. Helena finally moved, taking a step closer and leaning to wrap her arms around Hunnigan, slumping against the other woman. She rested her hands on Helena's hips, not really returning the hug, but not denying it completely either.
"Sorry," Helena mumbled against Hunnigan's shoulder.
"Okay..."
They stayed still like that for a long moment, Hunnigan indulging Helena's want for affection despite feeling somewhat awkward, knowing that she shouldn't encourage her. Finally, she cleared her throat and slowly pulled back a little.
"You said you wanted to talk to me?" she asked.
"I did, but now I kind of don't."
"Look, Helena... We have to stop doing this. We need to be able to work together, and while I know for certain that there are a few people at the agency who can make it work as fuckbuddies, I don't crap where I eat, you know?"
"Yeah, I know, and I agree."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because... I've been thinking about you, and I want you," Helena whispered, tilting her head back, letting her lips brush against Hunnigan's.
"When we first met, why'd you pick me?" Helena then asked, and Hunnigan's eyebrow rose at the question. She offered a lopsided smile, and chuckled.
"You have this aura of determination I appreciate. I've never met anyone like you, and I wanted to find out if you lived up to what you came across as," Hunnigan replied, her fingers instinctively making their way underneath the hem of Helena's shirt, seeking out warm, bare skin almost as if they had a will of their own.
"And did I?"
"You exceeded my expectations. That doesn't happen very often, I'm impressed with you... which is why you're allowed to stand there right now, but don't push it," Hunnigan warned.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Helena murmured, pressed her lips to Hunnigan's and kissed her hard.
Hunnigan sat on her legs on the bed, leaning her against the headboard. Helena lied on her back, her upper body stretched to rest over Hunnigan's thighs.
"I have a problem," Helena muttered, arching a little as Hunnigan moved her hand down along Helena's chest, from the valley between her breasts toward her navel, the soft fingertips sliding smoothly on the pale skin still damp with sweat.
"What kind of a problem?" Hunnigan inquired, circling the younger woman's navel with her index finger.
"I really don't want to stop doing this," Helena confessed, turning her head to the side, reaching to plant soft kisses over Hunnigan's hip bone.
"That is a problem," Hunnigan agreed, slipping her hand further down, teasing the already sensitive flesh further, making Helena inhale sharply at the contact. She slid a finger inside the younger woman, curling it as Helena arched her back high and reached to wrap her arms around Hunnigan, her fingernails digging into her back as she frantically gripped the older woman. Hunnigan leaned over her, smiling when she whimpered and bucked underneath her touches.
Helena came hard and fast, the intensity of it taking her by surprise. A very pleasant surprise at that. No, she definitely didn't want to stop doing this.
Hunnigan cradled Helena in her lap until the after shocks were over, then moved to lie next to her, the younger woman still clinging onto her. Helena nuzzled into the hollow of Hunnigan's throat, letting out a content sigh when she ran her fingers through Helena's hair, bringing her fingers to softly caress the back of her neck then.
Don't get your damn hopes up just because she's cuddling you, it doesn't mean anything. How many times have you been where she is now, indulging someone clingy just to spare their feelings? Helena questioned herself, and her euphoria vanished quickly. She'd been there more times than she wanted to admit. Sighing deeply and almost inaudibly, Helena pulled away from the embrace and sat up. She leaned to gather up her clothes from the floor, hoping against hope that Hunnigan would ask her to stay, but painfully aware of the fact that she would not.
"Helena?"
"Yes?" she turned around quickly, her heart skipping a beat.
"I know you're disappointed, but this has to stop. I've already broken practically every rule with you, and I can't let this go any further. I don't mix my personal life and my work, you understand, don't you?" Hunnigan said, her apology sincere. Helena nodded slowly, and swallowed hard.
"I get it, besides it's not your fault, I'm the one who broke the most important rule and fell in love with you," Helena muttered, and Hunnigan's eyebrow rose in surprise.
"Aw, shit, I didn't mean to say that out loud. Could you pretend you didn't hear that?"
"Helena, I could never give you what you'd..."
"I know, I know! I get it, I really do! I should go now before I make this worse," the younger woman grumbled and began to dress.
Hunnigan walked her to the door, and they paused by it. Helena wrapped her arms around the older woman, hugging her tightly, and this time Hunnigan mimicked the gesture, holding onto Helena, waiting until the she was willing to let go first. After a long moment, Helena finally released her grip, kissed Hunnigan goodbye and stepped outside.
So this is what it feels to lose everything I don't have, she thought as she exited the building. Deciding she'd learn to love the scars one day, she lit a cigarette and began walking home in the early morning blue.
End