The rain lashed the windows, and pelted down on the roof. But the blonde laying in the bed made no move to close the curtains against the oncoming storm; Her slow-healing injuries kept her stuck in the large king sized bed. It had been 1 month since Atlantis, and Helga was still recovering, slowly, much to the womans distaste. Spending days on end in bed was driving her insane, and she longed to simply shoot a gun again. The simple things, of course. At the same time, Helga found herself wondering what had happened to Rourke; the man who had put her in this damn position. When she had asked Whitmore about Rourkes fate, the man had simply told her that it wasn't any concern of hers. That only made the curiosity worse; Helga had a feeling that Rourke had made it out of Atlantis, she didn't know why, she just had a feeling.
She was unsure of how she really felt about Rourke now. At the beginning, the anger had surged through her, and she wanted nothing more than to cause bodily harm to that damn man. Now, the anger had faded, but it had been infused with a sort of… Wanting. A wanting for an explanation about why he had turned on her. He'd promised her a percentage then thrown her off the zeppelin… One just did let something like that slide. Helga had never been the kind of woman to let things go, she tended to hold grudges and could become quite bitter when something happened she didn't agree with. Mind you, in this situation, who could blame her?
So here she was; Stuck in bed with all these thoughts flying around her head and no means of getting any answers, wunderbar. It was then, as she lay smoldering with anger in her bed, that Whitmore came in with a somber expression on his lined face. Approaching Helgas side, he lay a hand on her arm and took a deep breath.
"Sir? What is it?" She inquired, her curiosity piqued by the look in his eyes. She knew this man, he was like a father to her. She knew when he was worried about something and today was no exception.
Whitmore remained quite for a couple of minutes, and Helga waited patiently; There was no sense in rushing him in whatever it was that was going on.
"Helga, there is something I need to tell you, and something to ask you. Rourke didn't die in Atlantis, I can't tell you exactly what happened to cause this, but there you have it. He's here, in the mansion, has been since the return of the crew from Atlantis. Now, I don't have the time to let you get your head around this, there is something else." Here, he paused slightly, obviously collecting his thoughts. "Rourke wants to see you. He's saying he wants to apologize and try to right things with you. I'm leaving this entirely up to you Helga, as much as I would prefer to tell him to keep away from you, it's not my call to make, it's yours. So that's the other reason I'm here; Do you want to see him and hear what he has to say?"
Helga went still; The only movement other than her chest rising and falling with each breath, was the tear making its way down her porcelain cheek. Her thoughts were a storm, they were chaotic and unfathomable at that moment. Frowning, she looked up at Whitmore, her voice soft.
"Thank you for telling me… But, I-" Helga broke off, trying to settle her thoughts, "Yes. I'll see him. I have some questions for him…" As soon as she had spoken, she wished she could take it back, but her father had always told her to stick by her first decision, and that was exactly what she was going to do.
Whitmore said nothing, he simply nodded at her then left. Leaving her alone for a few minutes to gather her courage to face the man who she had trusted, who had gone on to almost kill her. Shuffling slowly into a sitting position, Helga grit her teeth as fire spread across her side. She shouldn't have moved, but she couldn't face Rourke laying down, her pride wouldn't allow it. Neither would her pride allow her to cry, no matter how much she wanted to. So she waited quietly, knowing that Whitmore had gone to get Rourke.
The sound of the door opening bought her out of her thoughts, her cobalt blue gaze shifting to the opening door. The man who stepped in hadn't changed since Helga had last seen him; Price and arrogance still rolled off him in waves, his face slightly lined but still attractive. Those hazel eyes glinting in the light, and his mouth set in a grim line. He was in a simple Army suit, sans the jacket with medals of Valour. As his eyes landed on Helga, his lips turned up in a small smile, which shocked Helga more then initially seeing him. Making his way over, Helga refused to break eye-contact with him and him with her. Once he was at her side, a small sigh slipped from his lips as he knelt down.
"Sinclair… I'm so sorr-" He cut off when Helga raised a hand in front of him, this was going to be done on her terms, not his.
"Don't say anything. Let me start this." Clearing her throat, Helga continued looking at Rourke, her eyes glittering in the lamp light. "I don't care that you're sorry, it doesn't change what you did to me! It doesn't change how you betrayed me for some damn crystal. You hurt me Rourke, you really hurt me…" Her voice had started to waver, and the tears were gathering in her eyes. Dammit, she had promised herself she wouldn't cry, not over him. Not in front of him. "I just-" She threw her head back, and cried out as once more the pain spread over her side, this time jarring across her lower back before finally subsiding.
Rourke had reached out and grasped her hand as she cried out, the blonde wasn't sure how she really felt about that, except that the comfort was welcomed… "God. Helga…" Tightening his grip on her small hand, not enough to hurt her, he used his free hand to brush her bangs back from her face. Helga had expected him to be hostile with her, but once again, he had confused her and not lived up to the expectations she had set. "Helga please. Just let me apologize… I know it doesn't mean anything, or change anything, but I need to get this off my chest. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for backstabbing you, for almost killing you, for everything. You didn't deserve it, and I should have known better. Helga, I've known you since you were 17, you mean more to me then you could possibly realize…" Helga simply stared as he raised his hand and brushed the back of it down her cheek; His touch sent a jolt of electricity down her spine, and she was as helpless as a newborn.
Logic flew out the window, and all she wanted was for him to put his arms around her, and tell her, like he had all those years ago, that he would never let anything hurt her while he was around. Flipping her hand up, she held on tight to his. She was still angry and hurt, but right now all she wanted was the reassurance that he was there.
"I hate you. So much, for what you did. But at the same time… I don't want you out of my life, and I want to build our friendship back up. I want to forget all this ever happened." It was hard, being this close to him yet wanting him to leave her alone. Cursing herself, Helga bit down on her lower lip. "You need to leave… Please. I want to be alone right now. I need to think…"
The older man nodded at Helga, beginning to stand. Once he was up, he bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, leaving without a word. As soon as he was gone, Helga pressed a hand to her mouth, and the tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her shoulders started shaking, causing her breath to come out in gasps as she made no effort to stop, letting herself fall apart…