Author's note: the lyrics Hunnigan "wrote" were borrowed from Carina Round's song called "Do you".
I am sorry, I am so, for the things you don't know, and as for the things you do, I am sorry for those too. I have thought and think about what and how to tell you, I have lived it seems without learning how to be true.
I was put together wrong, still I was made for you, when our stitches come undone, we come together like glue. Do you, do you want me? Do you know how to show, how to show these things? I just didn't want to have to ask, I just didn't want to have to, least of all people, you.
The hurt that the head forgets, the heart will always remember; the hold that the hand regrets, the heart remembers forever.
Nolan had composed and arranged the song into a great sounding whole, and the woman singing it sounded wonderful, but Hunnigan didn't think she'd ever get used to hearing someone else sing words she'd written when it came to songs that were as personal as this one. That song was written about Helena, the young woman singing it didn't even know Helena, and while she probably could relate to the words she sang, it wouldn't ever sound just right to Hunnigan because of that. Her inability to distance herself from some of the lyrics she wrote was the main reason she'd very quickly given up on trying to make a career out of it despite Nolan's encouragement to keep at it.
"What's wrong?" Nolan asked after swiveling around in his chair that was placed in front of the mixing console resting on a hardwood mixing table.
"What?" Hunnigan looked at him and he sighed, slid the volume down and paused the song.
"I know that face. You don't like the song? You said the demo was fine, so..."
"It is good, it's nothing like that, I've just got stuff on my mind," Hunnigan muttered.
"Yeah, I've noticed," Nolan smirked, turning his attention back to the console.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hunnigan frowned at her brother.
"You've been so distracted lately that even I've noticed it. And I have a pretty good idea why that is," he said. Hunnigan rolled her eyes, considering her line of work it wasn't difficult to imagine what might distract her, Nolan's obvious smugness over having figured it out was pointless.
Ever since Shepard had ordered Hunnigan and Harding to switch agents around so that Hunnigan was now Skylark and Hawke's handler, Skylark had done everything in her power to make Hunnigan's life at the office miserable. Harding had advised her "explain things to Skylark as if explaining them to a stupid person, and if she still doesn't get it, well, then we'll know which end the problem is at", and while that was good advice, it didn't help much when dealing with someone who was intent on being difficult.
Either that or then she genuinely just doesn't get it, Hunnigan mused.
Skylark was terrible at managing her time and schedule, she was constantly late with her reports, constantly making mistakes which she could've avoided had she paid attention rather than rushed because she'd created an unnecessary hurry for herself by dilly-dallying. And whenever Hunnigan tried to correct her —as kindly and reasonably as she could manage, she was a professional after all, and made sure her wording and interaction reflected that in case Skylark felt the need to bring it up with Shepard— she wouldn't listen because she genuinely did not care enough to want to do it correctly.
Hunnigan wondered how Harding had put up with it all this time, and why no one had done anything about Skylark's obvious attitude problem; Hunnigan knew she was just as challenging to everyone she worked with, she was just putting extra effort into it nowadays because she didn't like Hunnigan.
Unfortunately, as far as work on the field went, Skylark wasn't terrible, so she did deserve her position at the agency. Hunnigan just wished she'd stop being such a brat and did the other half of her job properly too, but Hunnigan was certain that was not something that would ever happen. Skylark was the type who never accepted blame or admitted she'd made a mistake even when someone proved she had, you don't go from being like that to taking responsibility.
"Well, aren't you a real detective," Hunnigan commented sarcastically.
"You've been especially upset since your 'special friend' ran off to Florida rather than came home to you," Nolan continued and Hunnigan sighed in exasperation.
"Do I even want to know what you're talking about?"
"Oh, come on! A couple of weeks ago you were so excited because Helena was coming home, then her homecoming was delayed by a month because she went to Florida to get a service dog," Nolan said.
"How do you know that?"
"Mom mentioned it to me."
"How did she know it?" Hunnigan asked.
"Well, she was her lawyer," Nolan shrugged as if that explained everything. It didn't but Hunnigan didn't bother questioning it further, Nolan didn't seem to have an actual answer either.
"And for the record, I was happy that she was getting out because it had to mean she was doing better, what's wrong with being happy for my friend's recovery?"
"Sure, sure, she's just a friend," Nolan rolled his eyes.
"Since when do you and mom discuss my friends with each other behind my back anyway?" Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.
"I make it a point to get to know the people whose one million dollar bail I pay," Nolan smiled lopsidedly.
"You got it back."
"Yes and you're trying to change the subject."
"I didn't realize we even had a subject," Hunnigan muttered.
"The subject is you're being moody because your 'friend', in other words the woman you are so hot for I could light a cigarette off your crotch when you're thinking about her—"
"Gross exaggeration," Hunnigan interjected.
"—didn't come home yet, and you should just admit it, it would make your life a lot easier."
"I have nothing to admit!"
"Would telling you that you forgot to rename the songs before sending them to me help make my point?"
"Why would—" Hunnigan began but swallowed the rest when she remembered her working titles which had left very little to interpretation.
"Yeeeaaaah," Nolan drawled with a grin.
"Shut up."
"What I don't get is why haven't you just told her."
"Let's start with the fact that it would make things at the office awkward because people are already questioning my integrity when it comes to her," Hunnigan said.
"Well, if they already think you're screwing her, why not give them a reason to think so?"
"It's not that damn simple, all right!" Hunnigan snapped. "She's got enough on her plate without me telling her I have a crush on her."
"A crush? What are you, twelve?" Nolan snorted, and Hunnigan sighed.
He was right, it was much more than a crush but she hoped that if she kept denying it and downplaying it as much as possible, she'd eventually get over it. It hadn't worked so far, and the longer she found it impossible to stop thinking about Helena, the harder it became to deny that her feelings were beyond shallow attraction; it had been months, and she was still very much in love with Helena.
"Whatever you call it, it doesn't change anything, I can't tell her."
"Why the hell not? Grow up."
"Because she's in a very fragile state and the last thing I want to do is add more pressure onto it all, she's already got her hands full coming back and figuring out how to fucking live again after all the shit she went through, I'd have to be pretty damn selfish and stupid to make everything about me and my stupid feelings in a situation like this!" Hunnigan ranted, her sudden agitation over the subject causing Nolan to raise his eyebrows curiously.
"Well, at least you're not defensive about it or anything," Nolan chuckled sarcastically.
"Oh, shut up," Hunnigan sighed.
"Okay, look, I get it, and I know you're doing what's right by her, which is more than a lot of people would do. I just hope you won't completely put off telling her. I mean, as much as I enjoy the lyrics you write when you're pining over her, I'd love to see what you'd write when you're with her," Nolan smiled.
"I wish I was a robot," Hunnigan groaned and slumped to lay down on the leather couch Nolan kept in the studio. She reached for her guitar and picked it up before beginning to idly pick at the strings to play a random melody which then quickly and without conscious thought went from that to her playing the melody of The Turtles' song "Happy together".
"Why?" Nolan laughed and quirked an eyebrow after recognizing the song. Hunnigan didn't notice his obvious questioning.
"Because then my behavior and moods wouldn't be governed by random chemical imbalances and hormones."
"Well, sorry to burst your bubbles but unless someone invents something, you're stuck in your meat suit just like the rest of us, and my advice is try to make the most of it."
"I find it ironic hearing that from a man who snorted a ton of cocaine while drinking entire liquor stores empty just so he wouldn't have to feel so much."
"I can see the irony," Nolan agreed. "I miss cocaine," he then sighed wistfully and Hunnigan threw her guitar pick at him.
Hunnigan was almost embarrassed by just how giddy she felt the entire day she knew Helena was coming back to D.C. from Camp K9. She'd insisted on driving so she wouldn't be back until much after midnight after leaving Florida in the morning, and the later it got in the day, the harder it became for Hunnigan to remain patient. It seemed the less time there was until Helena would arrive, the slower time went by.
Despite her excitement, it was truly her son who was even more excited, though for different reasons. Hunnigan had explained to Seeley that her friend would be staying over at their home for a while and that she'd bring her dog with her. Ever since that, he hadn't stopped asking Hunnigan when they'd be arriving, to the point of Hunnigan regretting telling him about it so early, had she put it off she wouldn't have had to answer the same slew of questions daily for an entire week.
Seeley had insisted he get to stay up and wait for the arrival, and Hunnigan had allowed it, knowing already he would be fast asleep by ten p.m. and she'd been right. She tucked him in and went to the kitchen then, opening a bottle of rum she held in the cabinet, and mixing herself a rum and coke.
I guess I should thank mom for helping Helena with everything, Hunnigan mused as she stared at the family crest printed on the bottle's label.
After everything had been done and sorted, her interactions with Isabela had gone back to their distant and cool state, and Hunnigan did regret it. That said, she had been dreading to have a conversation with her mother about Helena after the question Isabela had posed.
She's more than just a friend, isn't she?
Hunnigan didn't want to answer, especially not to her mother. Admitting it to Nolan had been painful enough because saying it out loud only made it more real, and if it became real, she would have to actually start dealing with it and coping with the fact that she shouldn't discuss it with Helena... who ironically was the one person she figured she should've discussed it with.
"Hello, kitten. Is everything all right?" Isabela asked when she answered the call.
"Yeah, I just... realized I never properly thanked you for everything. And yes I realize it's been months but better late than never, so, thank you for helping my friend."
"You're welcome. How is your friend ?" Isabela asked, emphasizing the last words in the same tone Nolan had come to use when talking about Helena, namely a voice that said he knew Helena was more than that. The fact that Isabela was using the tone of voice too only confirmed she and Nolan had been gossipping about the subject. Hunnigan wasn't sure if she should be offended or flattered by the fact that the two of them apparently deemed her personal life so damn interesting all of a sudden.
"She's... recovering," Hunnigan somewhat avoided, she didn't feel it was her place to discuss Helena's personal life with Isabela beyond that.
Helena had seemed to be doing rather well the times Hunnigan had visited her. She'd even admitted she'd come to appreciate the whole sharing in a circle-thing she'd previously looked down on and been unable to imagine helping in any way.
"That's good to hear. She deserves a break after everything."
Isabela didn't elaborate on what she meant, she couldn't have even if she'd wanted to, everything was privileged, but she didn't need to; Hunnigan wasn't born yesterday and if there was one thing she was good at, it was digging up information, and the things she found regarding Sergeant Kassandra Good were chilling and disturbing.
"Yeah, she does," Hunnigan muttered.
"Was there anything else?"
"No, I just... wanted to say thanks," Hunnigan said.
They spent a moment chatting about Seeley and Garrett and exchanging regards before Hunnigan finally wished her mother good night and ended the call. She fixed herself another drink and went to take a seat at her desk in the living room corner.
She leaned back in her chair and stared at the shadow box she'd taken from Helena's belongings; specifically she stared at the picture of a few years younger Helena in her dress uniform and tried to once again imagine what it must've been like. Hunnigan had been trying for a good while now but she still didn't think she'd managed to get even close.
She admitted she'd been one of those people Jane had deemed annoying sycophants in her manifesto, namely someone who had used phrases like "thank you for your service" and "I support the troops" without realizing almost no one really wanted to hear those platitudes. And that's all they were, platitudes, because that's where the support ended, at hollow words. She hadn't spared much thought to the ones serving because she'd had no reason to; aside from occasionally needing to coordinate with some high ranking military officers over some missions, she'd had no need to think of them.
The sad truth was the armed conflicts the country was involved in had become so ordinary it had turned into white noise. It was normal, nothing to bat an eye about. Just like enlisting at seventeen and being shipped off to fight at a war overseas was normal, admirable even. It shouldn't have been. Hunnigan hated to admit that she had not realized that until just recently either, and had it not been for her relationship with Helena, she doubted she ever would've realized it.
Hunnigan glanced at the ribbons on Helena's uniform and smirked wryly at the amount of them. She estimated Helena was probably around twenty years old in the photo and she already had racked up a handful of ribbons (Army commendation, good conduct, national defense service, Afghanistan campaign, global war on terrorism service, Army service and Army overseas service-ribbons to be exact— Hunnigan had needed to Google them to figure out what meant what), no wonder the generals had no room in the fronts of their uniforms for those.
I should probably put this away before Helena gets here, Hunnigan then realized and got up, picked up the shadow box and carried it into the small storage closet from where she decided she'd later take it to the rented storage space where the rest of Helena's belongings were.
She'd just finished doing that when there was a knock on the door. Hunnigan answered it, barely able to resist the urge to put her hands on Helena's cheeks and kiss her hard. Helena stood there with a blue brindle American Staffordshire Terrier, a dog Hunnigan recognized as Junkhouse-Charlie from the numerous pictures Helena had sent her over the past week or so ever since it had been made official Junkhouse-Charlie was the dog she'd been paired with. Based on what Helena had told her, Hunnigan could tell the dog had a rough past, but fortunately he'd come out of it all right.
He was a young former fighting dog, his career in the pits having fallen short because he wasn't the fighting-type nor very aggressive contrary to how dogs of his breed typically were. As a result, he had a piece of his left ear missing and visible scarring around his neck from where he'd been bitten by his opponent during his first and last fight. He'd been abandoned by his owner who'd left him to die but someone had stumbled upon the injured dog and seen to it that he got rescued, and from there he'd ended up going to get trained to be a service dog.
It didn't surprise Hunnigan that Helena had bonded with a dog that had a terrible painful past. But, just like Junkhouse-Charlie, she'd come through it and would recover in time.
"Hey, you! Welcome back," Hunnigan smiled and hugged Helena tightly for a few seconds before turning her attention to the dog that sat obediently by Helena's legs, staring up at the two humans.
"Hello, Junkhouse-Charlie," she then greeted the dog, slowly reaching her palm out for him to sniff at before petting his head. He seemed to approve.
"Thanks, it's good to be back," Helena said quietly, smiling a little as she entered the apartment with Charlie.
"You must be exhausted," Hunnigan then said, glancing at her watch; it was almost two in the morning.
"I really am, I'm on the verge of passing out, and I hate sounding rude but can I just get some sleep now? I suspect you have questions or things you wanna talk about but can it wait until tomorrow?" Helena requested tiredly.
"Of course," Hunnigan agreed with a smile.
"Thank you," Helena exhaled in relief and turned to head to the living room.
"Where are you going?"
"...the couch?" she offered.
"Nonsense. You're my guest, you sleep in the bed," Hunnigan insisted.
"I don't..."
"Helena. Just... come to bed."
How's that for a Freudian slip, Hunnigan thought and almost rolled her eyes at herself.
"Yeah, but Charlie might get on the bed too, I don't want to mess up your bed."
"Helena, just go. I'll see you in the morning," Hunnigan ordered gently.
"...you're not coming with?"
"I didn't realize you wanted me to."
"Well, no offense but I've slept on your couch and it's not comfortable. Besides, it's not like we're not used to sharing a bed," Helena smirked and Hunnigan chuckled.
"Point taken," she agreed and went to the bedroom with Helena, Charlie walking beside Helena, looking around to familiarize himself with the environment and to ensure everything was all right.
Within a few moments, they were in Hunnigan's bed, Charlie taking up a spot by the bed on the side Helena was at, settling to rest on the floor. Within a few minutes the room grew quiet, and Hunnigan could hear from Helena's breathing that she'd fallen asleep.
"Oh," Hunnigan mumbled quietly when Helena turned to lay on her side, nuzzling into Hunnigan's neck, her arm reaching to rest over her midsection. Hunnigan smiled in the dark and reached to run her fingers through Helena's hair and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"Bienvenue à la maison, ma chérie," she whispered.