Helena was relatively certain she was the only person in the world who could get bored in the city that never slept and was home to countless things to see and do. Granted, her desire to leave Nolan's loft was next to nonexistent thanks to the very persistent gaggle of reporters who were waiting outside just to get a comment or at the very least a glimpse of the by now notorious "rogue DSO agent". Going to buy a pack of cigarettes and noodles from the bodega had turned into a rather harrowing experience once she'd been recognized by the reporters, and so rather than deal with all that, she'd stayed in.

To pass the time, she'd looked over Nolan's bookshelf and discovered that he was apparently the family historian. Deborah had been the one in her family, collecting old photos, old stories. When their grandmother had been happily drunk, she'd gladly talked about things, named people in the photos Deborah had kept looking over, shown old letters. None of that all had interested Helena as much, what joy was there to be found in the fact that evidently she descended from a bunch of angry alcoholics?

"Huh. Well, who woulda thunk," Helena said to herself when she discovered Hunnigan's family had made their fortune producing a strong spicy rum, a brand Helena was more than familiar with but hadn't ever realized was connected to Hunnigan's family. It had been Helena's go-to drink ever since Jane had introduced it to her back when she'd opened her bar in D.C. and insisted she try it, the logo on the label of the bottle the same Helena now realized she'd seen on the large gold earrings Hunnigan's mother wore.

Helena put the book away and moved to look over the DVD collection. She hadn't felt like a snoop until she spotted discs clearly labeled as digitized home movies; when she made the decision to look at them her prying became undeniable.

Do you realize how weird you're being? Your obsession with Hunnigan is sick, Frances's voice spat in the back of Helena's mind, and she didn't bother arguing with it. It was weird, maybe indeed sick even, but then again, what was the harm? The only person she was actively hurting was herself when she dove into the history of the woman she was infatuated with and could never let her know as much.

"Would you put that away?" Isabela rolled her eyes at (presumably) Garrett who was holding the camera, the text superimposed on the lower corner of the grainy footage stating it was recorded November 11th 1984 to celebrate Isabela's 20th birthday. He stated he'd spent a fortune on his new toy and proceeded to list all the fancy (well, fancy by the eighties standards anyway) features and finished by telling her he intended to use the camera too.

"Twentieth?" Helena said out loud as she did the math and came to the conclusion that Isabela had been only 15 when she'd had the twins. If she remembered correctly what Hunnigan had told her about her parents moving to the US before having the kids, she couldn't help but wonder how they'd managed that if they'd been just teenagers. Not that it was unheard of but considering everything she couldn't easily imagine the couple making it on their own.

So, maybe someone in the family gave them the money, who knows, maybe they were sent to the US to hide Isabela getting knocked up, what better way to avoid a scandal, Helena mused, chuckling a little as she conjured up dramatic plot twists that were probably way off.

She considered Googling Isabela to see if anything regarding a family scandal would come up, but remembered then that she had no phone and therefore no means to Google anything.

Sighing, Helena turned her full attention back to the video playing on the screen. The video cut abruptly and awkwardly transitioned to display Garrett's foot as he'd evidently pointed the camera down while turning it on and hitting "rec" before aiming it at his children sitting on the couch, fighting over something which had apparently amused Garrett enough to break out the video camera.

"Mom, she's looking at me!"
"My eyes are closed, how could I be looking at you?"
Ingrid taunted in a singsong voice, leaning closer to Nolan to make sure she was in his face, and Garrett snorted loudly, trying not to laugh.

"Stop touching me!"
"I'm not!"

"You're in my space and breathing my air! This is my air!" Nolan yelled, red-faced and teary, and shoved at his sister who fell back on the couch, laughing loudly as Garrett turned the camera toward Isabela who stood at the entrance to the kitchen with her arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles.

"Someday I'm going to snap. But not today," she smirked and went to pick up her daughter and carried her to the other side of the room, Ingrid poking her tongue out at her brother as she was being separated from him.

There was another cut in the video, the quality of the footage improving a little, the time stamp letting Helena know they'd timewarped to 1996, and this time it was Nolan holding the camera, aiming it at people and introducing the members of the band, the crew, and their tour manager.

"Have you ever done this? You put your mouth over someone's nose and blow real hard and the air comes out of their mouth," the sixteen year old and still very babyfaced-version of Ingrid said as she stood by the drummer of the band, a petite brunette Nolan had introduced as Melissa, or Mel.

"Ew," Helena cringed when Ingrid leaned over Mel and demonstrated, clamping her mouth over the brunette's nose and exhaled forcefully, both of them bursting into laughter a moment later, Mel exclaiming Ingrid's breath was horrible.

"I know, I just had coffee," she laughed.
"The stench is in my sinuses now!" Mel complained loudly as she rubbed her nose.

"We've got an 18-piece orchestra performing with us, so just make sure we have all the equipment we need because I don't want to have to try and rent something five minutes before the show starts," the sound designer's voice spoke in the background and the video cut again to show a clip of the band performing on stage.

Helena couldn't help but smile seeing that, seeing Hunnigan in such a different environment. She certainly didn't come across as someone who would enjoy performing and be so energetic about it when comparing the younger her to the serious professional Helena had known Hunnigan as for the time they'd known each other. Then again, it made sense, Hunnigan was a detached professional at work, tough and serious. So was Leon, so was Hawke, and undoubtedly every other agent too, Helena herself included.

But when it was time to punch out, the masks of stoic government agents came off and their own personalities emerged, their fun-loving sides began to show. It was the same with Hunnigan, and Helena hadn't realized this until they'd ended up at the cabin together. There was so much more to Hunnigan than what she'd seen at work. Helena felt rather stupid at having assumed there wouldn't be.

"Oh, Lee's drunk. Daddy Del Rey is gonna be pissed off," Brian the bass player whispered while pointing the camera at Ingrid who was staggering toward the bus. She was being supported by Mel, their height difference emphasized by the fact that Ingrid was practically using Mel as a crutch despite being hunched over. They tumbled over and Mel tried picking Ingrid up, unsuccessfully. Brian went to wake Garrett and he took a few seconds to catch up on what was happening before getting out of bed and stepping out of the bus in his underwear and barefoot, Brian following him.

"I swear to God, Melissa, if I ever catch you getting her drunk or high again, I will arrest you, I don't care if she'll hate me for it, " he growled at the brunette as he knelt down to pick up his daughter, lifting her effortlessly over his shoulder and carrying her back to the bus.

The video transitioned again, from a brief clip of the band members chattering backstage after the gig to show Ingrid sitting on a bench inside the tour bus. Mel sat next to her, leaning her head on Ingrid's chest as she stroked Mel's hair, her free hand holding a book while Mel turned the pages.

"God, I wish that were me," Helena mumbled, envying Mel as she watched Ingrid's hand in the older girl's hair, the movement of it slow and smooth, almost hypnotic to watch.

"Lee, tell me one of your dumb jokes," Nolan's voice came from behind the camera, interrupting the sweet moment. Ingrid took a second to think about it, her fingers still brushing through Mel's hair.
"Why did Captain Janeway flush the toilet?"

"Why?"
"Because she took a shit."

It truly was a dumb joke but it made everyone laugh, Helena included.

"Cease and decist the lesbian activity unless you plan to include me!" Brian then proclaimed, jumping into the frame, and Mel kicked him in the thigh hard.

"That's not lesbian activity, this is lesbian activity," she laughed and reached to gently grip Ingrid's chin to urge her to turn her head, and she did, leaning over and closing her eyes when Mel planted a slow, deep kiss onto her lips.

"...now I really wish that were me," Helena said, her heart doing a little cartwheel when she realized that based on this, Hunnigan did swing that way too, which meant maybe...

Except in her case it probably really was just a phase, don't assume stupid things, idiot, Deborah's voice scolded Helena the moment she dared to give herself a moment of hope.

"I don't need the truth, I just need a story that's plausible enough to give the jury reasonable doubt, and fortunately, the media circus around Good's prior bad acts is working in my favor, the tabloids have paraded out a slew of Good's victims who have expressed their support for the rogue DSO agent who put down a sadistic monster who abused her rank to humiliate recruits," Isabela's voice came from the door as she let herself in the apartment, the agitated NYPD sergeant she was married to following her inside, both of them ignoring Helena who quickly scampered to sit up and turn the video off.

She then hurried to pull on the pair of boxer briefs she'd found in the closet, presumably Nolan's. It wasn't ideal but they were more comfortable to wear than Hunnigan's ill-fitting jeans. That said, Helena had chosen not to wear either when she'd been alone, unaware of Isabela being able to come in unannounced if she wanted to, resulting in her and her husband almost walking in on Helena Donald Ducking it at the apartment.

"She brutally beat a woman to death and you want to give her a pass? In case you forgot, counselor, executing people without due process is still a class-A felony no matter what the victim allegedly did."
"After the press Good's gotten, I wish you luck trying to find a jury pool that doesn't think she deserved it."

"How did they find out about anything regarding her trial anyway? The records were sealed and no one was talking about it when Rutherford was looking for complaining witnesses," Garrett narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're asking me?" Isabela raised her eyebrows innocently and Helena frowned. Surely Isabela wouldn't have leaked anything Helena had told her, she seemed to be a lot of things but not someone who would break confidence.
"Do you see anyone else here?" he snapped and Helena raised her hand a little.

"I-I'm here," she said quietly but the couple continued to ignore the subject of their argument.

"Your animosity is showing, sergeant ."
"As is your lack of judgment, your client is a murderer."

"So you keep saying yet you have absolutely nothing to back it up with. I've never known you to be a shitty cop. Is Rutherford pressuring you, is that it? You've just decided to pin this on my client rather than bother looking for other suspects?" Isabela asked and Garrett's nose twitched in annoyance. He had no argument he could make.

"You're a backstabbing snake, you know that?" he said instead of a reasonable argument and she laughed.

"You mispronounced 'one of the most highly regarded criminal defense attorneys in the United States'. You really should consider looking into the people Rutherford subpoenaed to testify against Good and start from there, I think you'll find many who had motive and knew where to find Good that day. Wouldn't want Rutherford's office wasting millions of dollars on a case he can't win just because you guys didn't bother looking for the actual murderer," Isabela condescended, patting Garrett's bearded cheek with her palm.

His arm shot up like an attacking predator and he grabbed her wrist so hard Helena could swear she heard bones cracking. For a moment she thought he would break her arm and then her neck, and Helena was about to go over and interfere when all of a sudden she put her hand on the back of his neck, pulled on him and kissed him so hard it looked like she was going to yank his head off, her hand balling into a fist in his black hair, his arm instinctively wrapping around her midsection and pulling their bodies tightly together.

"Have a good day at work. I love you," he grumbled after she broke the kiss.
"I love you too. Don't get killed," she smiled at him before letting him go and he exited.

"...what... is happening?" Helena asked slowly.

"What?" Isabela shrugged, produced a compact from her purse, peered into the tiny mirror, and proceeded to run a finger along the edges of her lips to clean up any possible smears of her lipstick. "Just because we're mad at each other doesn't mean we stop loving each other," she then said and snapped the compact shut.

"That's a... mature approach most people lack," Helena smiled a little awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, we've learned the 'don't go to bed angry'-way of thinking the hard way," Isabela said, and Helena didn't ask for details when she volunteered none. It wasn't difficult to imagine how easily a police officer could end up risking his life during his day at work.

"Now, go get dressed, I want you to look this case over with me," Isabela said and Helena nodded.

After putting the jeans on Helena returned downstairs where Isabela waited for the coffee to brew as she pulled out several folders and a tablet from her briefcase.

"I know you said you don't get queasy but if it gets to be too much to look at these, just let me know," she said, tapping the light brown surface of the folder containing the autopsy report.
"You don't have to coddle me just because... of that embarrassing incident in the shower," Helena muttered awkwardly.

"Listen, I know a thing or two about PTSD and flashbacks, and I'm not some idiot who thinks it's like in the movies; I know it's not something you can just shrug off, and you don't need to pretend otherwise."

"I'm fine. Honest," Helena muttered. Isabela exhaled deeply through her nose, apparently deciding not to argue over it, and Helena was glad; the last thing she needed was to hear from yet another person how she needed to start taking pills to be normal. Maybe she didn't want to be normal.

Yeah, because you're so fucking happy with the nightmares and the ghosts in your head, it would get lonely if they went away, wouldn't it? Deborah asked argumentatively and Helena pinched her mouth shut tightly as she fought back the sudden urge to cry, hoping Isabela didn't notice, deep down knowing that it was a dumb wish, it was easy to tell when someone was about to cry. Especially if you were used to paying attention to the little things like Helena suspected Isabela was.

"Have you ever considered getting a service dog?" Isabela asked and Helena's eyebrows rose. She shook her head.

She had never thought of herself as a pet-person, and considering her work required a lot of travelling, it wasn't like she could just take a pet with her, nor did she know anyone who would pet-sit for her. Not until she'd befriended Hunnigan recently anyway, and frankly, she assumed Hunnigan had enough on her plate with her work and caring for her son.

"You should look into it," Isabela said, dug out a card from her purse and handed it to Helena.

K9s For Warriors rescues and trains shelter dogs to be paired as service dogs for warriors with service-connected post-traumatic stress, traumatic brain injury and/or military sexual trauma, the card read, followed by a phone number and a website address.

"Of course, to qualify you would need a verified clinical diagnosis and to get that you would need to see a doctor and be honest about what's going on, but that shouldn't be a problem for you, right?" Isabela asked in fake-innocence.

"So that's the catch," Helena rolled her eyes, but held onto the card. Maybe she'd look into it some time. Isabela didn't comment, seeing Helena pocket the card rather than just throw it away must've been enough of an answer to keep her from pushing the issue.

"How exactly did the press get wind of Good's 'prior bad acts' as you put it?" Helena then inquired, got up and poured herself and Isabela coffee.
"I'm offended by your implication that I had something to do with it, because I did not," Isabela assured, and Helena believed her, but the question still remained.

"Maybe the killer did it," Isabela suggested.
"Why would they do that?"

"Because they feel bad about you getting charged with their crime," Isabela said and Helena frowned. That didn't sound like the behavior of your typical murderer. Not that Helena expected Good's murder to be a coincidence of her falling victim to a random murderer on the loose in town; whoever had done it had known Good and what she'd done, and when Isabela began reading the autopsy report out loud, Helena became certain of that.

"Cause of death: asphyxia due to the flooding of the airways... or in other words drowning. Now that's exotic."
"Drowning?" Helena almost spat out the coffee in her mouth, seriously beginning to question the medical examiner's qualifications.

"In layman's terms, she drowned in her own blood after all the injuries caused to her torso," Isabela muttered and turned the page. "Uterus and colon were punctured by a foreign object ante-mortem, that's telling. Someone really hated her."

"I don't blame them," Helena muttered but hated herself for the fact that despite everything, deep within her heart there was a tiny fleck that felt sorry for Good. Helena extinguished it quickly. Good didn't deserve her sympathy for any reason, what she'd deserved, she'd gotten. Helena had been through simulated drowning during training and knew enough to know Good's death must've been horrifyingly slow and painful.

Served her right, she thought angrily.

"What I can't figure out is what caused all the damage, this was no ordinary beating. Apparently, the medical examiner couldn't figure it out either," Isabela mumbled as she read the report. "Make yourself useful, agent, if the information my husband dug up about you is correct, you would've made a decent detective if it weren't for your temper," she then said and entered her PIN to unlock the tablet before putting it in front of Helena.

He looked me up? What am I saying, of course he did, it's the first thing anyone should do, Helena mused, not at all certain she even wanted to know what her file might look like to someone who already didn't think highly of her. Helena cleared her throat but didn't comment, deciding to focus on the report instead.

"This says they found traces of carbon fiber on her and... inside her. That's a bit odd, it's not exactly a household thing, isn't it usually used to make bikes and car parts?" Isabela wondered as she turned the pages of the copy of the report she'd printed out for herself.

"I think I've seen, like, protective clothing made of it, and... oh... well, now I know why the cops are so interested in my phone. The case is made of carbon fiber," Helena realized.

"Yes, but unless you beat, raped and sodomized Good with your phone, I don't think that's how the fibers got there," Isabela said.
"So, the murder weapon is possibly made of carbon fiber. That narrows it down," Helena smirked sarcastically and tapped on the document containing the crime scene photos.

"It might be nothing, might be an important detail, you never know."

Helena scrolled through the photos and paused at a close-up of the injuries on Good's head, staring intently at the bruising on her forehead forming a distinct pattern.

"What is that? It looks familiar, but I can't figure out where I've seen it," Helena frowned and zoomed in.
"Maybe it's a part of a logo or something similar one would see often?" Isabela suggested, leaning in to take a closer look as well.

"Could be, but I don't think it is. Oh, this is gonna bother me," Helena sighed and continued to stare at the patterned bruise on Good's forehead. Isabela sighed as well, only in annoyance at her phone ringing and interrupting her.

Come on, Helena, think about it. What else do they make out of carbon fiber, and what does that pattern have to do with it? You know what the connection is, just think about it, you fucking idiot! she berated herself as she kept looking.

"Helena..." Isabela said quietly and reached to softly touch her shoulder to get her attention, and Helena turned to look at her, her frown deepening as Isabela handed her the phone, the screen informing her the caller was her husband. Helena wasn't sure she wanted to know why he would want to speak to her.

"...hello?" she said into the phone, expecting to be greeted by Garrett, but the voice that spoke was distinctly female, and when she heard it, Helena remembered where she'd seen the pattern before.


Author's note: K9s for warriors is a real charity, please look them up online if you became interested in getting involved or know someone who needs the help.