Chapter 25

"Do we need milk?" Helena asks, standing in front of the supermarkets refrigerator.

You pull something down off the shelf and place it in the basket. "What does the list say, sweetie?"

She digs through her pocket and pulls out the sticky note you gave her. "It doesn't say anything about it…"

"Then no, we don't need milk," you say.

She runs a hand through her hair. "Are you sure though...?"

"Positive," you state, walking over to her.

"But-"

"Helena," you warn.

She shakes her head and sighs in the most adorable way. "I don't know how you do this, it's boring and confusing."

You laugh and intertwine your fingers with hers, dragging her away from the milk. She can build practically anything in the world, yet she can't do grocery shopping. "Oh sweetheart, promise me you'll never change."

She smiles at you, understanding exactly what you mean. "I promise, darling, as long as you do the same."

"It's a deal," you say with a confident nod.

"Hmmm…" She glances down at your joined hands. "I suppose that is close enough to a pinky promise…"

"But we have to make it official," you remind her playing along.

"You're right, but I don't see any wood," she pouts, acting defeated. No wood, no carving, and no official promise.

You swiftly set down the basket and back her up against the nearest stable shelf. "Who needs wood?"

And then you kiss her, hurriedly and rushed. After all, you are in the middle of a grocery store, in one of the more popular isles. Thought that thought fades from your mind the moment she buries her hands in your hair. Every conversation you have with her ends like this; it is a wonderful habit you never want to break.

"Why am I not surprised?" Your younger sister's voice comes from behind you.

You pull away from your wife reluctantly. Helena pouts and scowls at Tracy over your shoulder.

"Hey Tracy," you say, turning toward her.

"You know, you two might want to try setting up some boundaries. Something like, 'No making-out in public places'," she suggests with a disapproving tone in her voice. "You're just lucky Mom made me come to the store instead of Dad."

"I'm sorry, but what gives you the authority to tell us how to behave in public?" Helena questions.

Tracy purses her lips and crosses her arms. "I'm just saying you should have a little curtesy for those around you. Some people find PDA offensive. I'd think after how many years of marriage you'd know that..."

"And how long have you been married, Tracy?" Helena shoots back, knowing all too well that your sister has never even been in a serious relationship before. She does, however, have a point, but neither of you are going to admit it in front of her.

Tracy is silent, glaring at Helena with all she has.

"That's what I thought," your wife says pointedly before picking up the basket and storming out of the aisle.

You sigh. "Thanks a lot Trace, now she's in a bad mood."

"It's not my fault you married someone so high-maintenance," she snaps.

You take a step back shocked by her attitude. "What is up with you today?"

She turns away from you and grabs something off the shelf, not bothering to answer you.

Now you know what is going on.

"They're fighting, aren't they?"

"Not that you'd care," she says tensely.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you demand. "Of course I care."

"Then why did you leave, huh? The moment you turned eighteen you were married and out of the house, leaving me all alone with them," she accuses, her voice almost cracking.

"I'm sorry, really I am, but it's been almost three years for heavens sakes! It's not like I can just move back in."

"And why not?"

"I'm married, Trace," you remind her holding up your left hand. "Helena and I have our own place. I can't move in with mom and dad, that is not how it works."

"Whatever," she says stiffly as she stomps out of the aisle.

You groan and let your head fall into your hands. Then you feel two arms wrap around you from behind. "She's a brat," Helena mumbles.

"She's hurt," you correct, letting yourself lean into her.

"She hurt you," Helena says, kissing your temple. "It's not fair that she is acting this way, you can't blame yourself and there's really nothing you can do about it… unless of course, you'd like to move back in with your parents."

"Goodness no," you say quickly turning around in her arms. "That is never going to happen."

"Then stop worrying so much about it, she will figure it out," Helena assures you. "All you have to do is be there for her when she does."

You stare into her eyes sadly. "I love you," you whisper, kissing her again.

"And I love you, my darling," she says back between presses. "Forever and ever."

"I know I had it…" Helena says half to herself as she searches her pockets for her key.

You roll your eyes and shift the weight of the bag in your arms. "Helena, we can just use mine."

"No, I'll find it, don't worry," she says dismissively.

"Helena-"

"It has to be somewhere…" She runs her hand through her hair, with one hand on her hip.

"Helena-"

"No, I've got it-"

"Helena, back right pocket, now!" you say loudly, to get her attention.

"Fine," she grits through her teeth before slipping her hand into your pocket.

You both walk in the dark apartment and Helena, still mumbling to herself, flips on the lights right as you close the door.

"Mrs. and Mrs. Bering-Wells," a mysterious voice floats across the room.

Helena steps in front of you protectively as you grip the grocery bag tightly in surprise. "Who's there?"

A woman steps into the light, a woman you've seen before... at your wedding. Her hair is piled as high as ever, and her stare is just as disarming as it was last time. "My name is Mrs. Frederic, I'm with the government."

"The government?" Helena questions on high-alert.

"On a matters of national security," she continues. "There are two positions I need filled and you both seem to be the perfect fit."

"Okay…" you draw out the word, cautiously stepping out from around Helena. "Thank you, but were actually good at the moment, so…"

"So it's time for you to leave," Helena finishes in the most polite way possible. "Now."

"It wasn't an offer, Ms. Wells," Mrs. Frederic says calmly.

"Mrs. Bering-Wells, to you please," your wife corrects.

"Yes, I'm well aware of your marital status." Mrs. Frederic offers a small smile just to remind you she was at the wedding. That she made the wedding happen. "You are to be in South Dakota at these coordinates by noon to tomorrow."

A file is thrust out in front of you by a large man who wasn't behind you a second ago.

"Again, thank you, but we aren't going anywhere," you say politely pushing the file away.

"She's right," Helena agrees.

Mrs. Frederic regards you professionally before beginning again "I don't believe you understand-"

"And I don't believe you understand. You have just broken into our home, boldly refused to leave, and practically threatened us into taking a job we know nothing about," your wife accuses. "I am actually having trouble understanding why we haven't called the police at this point, do you know why dear?" Helena asks you.

"No, I don't," you say, pulling out your phone. "In fact, that sounds like an excellent reaction to the situation."

"I've already told you, I'm with the government," Mrs. Frederic reminds you, not even flinching.

"We don't care who you are with, we would like you to leave, right now!" Helena demands raising her voice, intent on protecting you at all costs.

Mrs. Frederic is silent for a moment until she speaks again. "I see you are going to need some time to think this over. I'll be back in a couple days, maybe by then you will have come to your senses."

"I'm at my senses right now, I'll have you know, and a couple days isn't going to change anything!" Helena shouts.

"Helena," you warn, knowing its time to establish boundaries on her words.

She glances at you quickly before turning back to a vanished Mrs. Frederic.

"Where'd she go?" you ask, stepping towards where she stood only seconds ago.

"No idea," Helena shakes her head.

"Well, now we know where your key went… but how did she get out?" you wonder aloud, eye brows furrowed in confusion.

"The real question is, what are we going to do when she comes back?" Helena says grimly.

"We aren't going. We aren't leaving our home, or dropping out of school to follow some mysterious beehive woman all the way to South Dakota," you tell her firmly, getting worked up.

"Trust me darling, I know. I could never work for someone who is obviously insane," she assures you.

"Good," you state. "Now, really, what are we going to do when she comes back? If she really is with the government... I mean what could they actually do?"

"Well at the very worst, I suppose they could deport me," she says with a shrug.

"Don't you dare joke about that," you snap, terrified by the thought.

"I'm sorry darling," she apologizes, pulling you towards her and wrapping her arms around you. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

You shake your head. "No, you are not."

"But Mrs. Frederic seems to think we are," she says thoughtfully.

"Well, we will just have to convince her we aren't."