When Hunnigan got home, she found Helena asleep on the couch, the pamphlet from George Washington University on her chest implying she'd fallen asleep while reading it. Her laptop was on the coffee table, displaying a web page titled "EMT basic training program and requirements". It appeared Helena was dedicated to becoming one, and while Hunnigan was glad to see her so excited about it, she would've been lying if she'd said she was okay with her just quitting the DSO.

Then again, it's not like I don't understand her desire to leave since Wilkes hasn't allowed her to work in months, Hunnigan sighed a little.

"Hey, you," she whispered and nudged Helena gently to wake her up.
"Oh, God, did you forget my name again?" the younger woman complained sleepily and Hunnigan laughed.

"No, Helena, I didn't," she assured her.
"Are you still mad at me?" Helena asked and sat up, yawning.

"I was never mad at you," Hunnigan said and took a seat next to Helena.

"You certainly were something at me," Helena said and without Hunnigan needing to even ask, she tucked her fingers under Hunnigan's jacket and eased it off her shoulders, tugging on the left sleeve while Hunnigan leaned in the opposite direction and slipped her arm out from it.

"I...just gave you some attitude," Hunnigan tried dismissing casually, and Helena quirked an eyebrow. "Ugh, fine, maybe I was a little mad and perhaps a bit disappointed, but after having had time to think about it I've come to realize I have no right to be mad at you because it's your life and your decision, and if you want to become an EMT, then that's what you should do."

"It's not like I don't get it, I know you worked so hard for me at the DSO, and I don't want to seem ungrateful for that because I'm not, but...I think we can both agree that the DSO isn't my place," Helena muttered. "Oh, I meant to ask you, would you write a letter of recommendation for me? I need one for my volunteer application," she then said, grabbed the laptop and clicked on an open tab to show Hunnigan the page listing out the process of volunteering at the George Washington University hospital.

"Of course," Hunnigan smiled. "Did you know I studied at GWU?"

"Yes and no," Helena chuckled. "I recognized the logo but I didn't remember where I'd seen it before until I saw it on your shirt," she explained and pointed at the photo collage which featured a photo of Hunnigan playing basketball, wearing a white uniform that had the university's logo on it.

"So, your plan is to volunteer, get the basic certificate from GWU, get licensed, and get a job," Hunnigan summarized and leaned back on the couch, grunting a little when her injury reminded her of how bad an idea it was to move around with it. It had only been a day, but she'd already come to realize how inconvenient it was having only one functioning arm while the other was immobilized by the fracture brace which had been strapped to her body for good measure. She was scheduled to have a plate put in tomorrow, and as much as she hated the idea of having surgery, she hated the idea of needing at least a year if not longer to fully recover and regain mobility more; the surgery allowed her to start the rehabilitation sooner. Not to mention it would save her the trouble of possibly having to wait for a couple of months only to be told she wasn't healing as expected and would require surgery anyway.

"Something along those lines, maybe see about studying more once I've gotten some experience," Helena confirmed.

"Well...let me know if there's anything else I can do to help."
"Just don't be mad at me."

"I'm not! I wasn't."
"You are," Helena insisted and Hunnigan groaned.

"I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad in general because my arm hurts and because the case I am working on is turning into a pain in the ass because I have to rely on Skylark and Hawke to investigate, and frankly, they're both complete disasters compared to you," she exhaled deeply.

"Are you trying to flatter me so I wouldn't quit? Because as much as I do love the praise, I am not changing my mind," Helena smirked and Hunnigan chuckled.

"I'm saying it because contrary to what Skylark likes to think, I didn't hire you for your tits and ass, I hired you because you're good at your job," she said and leaned to press gentle kiss onto Helena's lips, still feeling somewhat hesitant about just doing it freely because a part of her was having difficulty adjusting to the fact that it was something she could do now and not just think about secretly on nights she couldn't fall asleep.

She did wonder how long it would take before they would be completely comfortable with each other regarding this. As it was now, they both tended to pause as if to ask for permission before making contact, be it a kiss or a casual touch. It was all well and good for now, but Hunnigan sincerely hoped it wouldn't last because if it did, there would never be a time when Helena would not hesitate to grab her and pin against the wall by pressing her body against Hunnigan's while kissing her hard..

She couldn't say why exactly the thought of getting picked up and thrown on a bed by a lover was so appealing to her. Probably had something to do with her having grown up reading and hearing stories about passionate love affairs, duels, and adventure that tended to all end in the same way; the hero getting the girl, picking her up and carrying her off to the sunset.

Then there were the stories her grandmother had told her about their revered ancestor, the pirate queen calling herself Isabela Black, a woman who certainly had existed but whose heroics and adventures had perhaps been exaggerated a little. Of course, Hunnigan hadn't known that when she'd been just a kid, sitting at the kitchen table and listening to grandma-Ingrid tell the tale of Isabela (whose title always varied between Captain, Admiral, and Queen depending on how tipsy grandma-Ingrid happened to be at the time) setting her ship on fire and crashing it into the fleet chasing her to make a daring escape before swimming an impossible distance to safety where she met the love of her life the moment she set foot on the shore, and thus off to the sunset and the happy ending in her lover's arms it was with her too.

You don't get picked up and carried away by the hero when you're six-foot-one and therefore taller than the boy who is meant to be the hero doing the lifting. And if you were lucky enough to meet a girl who didn't recoil at the mere suggestion of kissing other girls, it certainly was the tall tomboy who was expected to do the lifting.

Hunnigan didn't even know why it mattered so much to her or why she was thinking about it now; Hawke's question about who was the big spoon in the relationship must've brought it up in her mind. That said, it was true that Hunnigan had always been the big spoon which according to all myths and stereotypes made her the boss and the supportive protector of the vulnerable little spoon. She didn't recall even Major ever being the big spoon for her, least of all in the literal sense, on the contrary; they'd always slept back to back, facing away from each other (apart from the times they'd more or less fallen asleep on top of each other after late-night sex, but even then it had been temporary).

But Helena...she's different. She has strong arms and a gentle heart, she would—

"You know you can talk to me about it if you want to, it's not like I'd gossip about it, and I do have a security clearance," Helena said, pulling back from the kiss, leaving Hunnigan feeling stunned and needing a moment to get her mind back on the subject they'd been discussing.

"I can, but I don't want to bother you with that stuff."
"Ingrid..." Helena said quietly and took Hunnigan's left hand into her own, raised it to her lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. "Talk to me."

Hunnigan sighed, slowly pulled her hand from Helena's and put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders, and she leaned into Hunnigan, wrapping her arm around her midsection as she nuzzled the top of Helena's head and pressed a kiss on it.

"You were right, the suspect was infected but with what, we don't know yet, all we know was it wasn't a virus. Hawke and Skylark are in quarantine, the suspect vomited on Hawke when she went to interrogate him," she muttered into Helena's hair.

"...is Hawke okay?"
"As far as we can tell, yes."

"That's a relief."
"Agreed."

"So, what happened to the suspect?"

"He died. We don't know who he was, his passport was fake and running his face through the system we got a handful of hits but all for different names and identities, we have no way of knowing who he really was let alone who he worked for, or what his motive was."

"Sadly, I'm sure you'll have a chance to find out since I doubt this was the last of it."

"Yeah," Hunnigan exhaled, not really able or very interested in carrying on the conversation because the pulsating pain in her arm was becoming overwhelming, every heartbeat sending another thump of pain to the injury, radiating from there up to her shoulder and neck, and down to her wrist and hand.

Helena noticed this and without asking went to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and bottle of pills. She poured out two tablets of OxyContin onto Hunnigan's palm and she washed them down with water.

"Thank you," she said as Helena put the empty glass away for her. "It's ridiculous that I can give birth to a ten pound baby with no epidural or anything, but a little broken arm and I'm incapacitated."
"Why on Earth would you not take an epidural?" Helena asked and Hunnigan chuckled a little.

"Because I'm an idiot who thought that if a doctor says the baby will be born on a certain date, the baby will respect that and will not arrive two weeks early, meaning I felt perfectly comfortable agreeing to play the band's anniversary gig despite being nine months pregnant."

"Are you serious?" Helena scoffed.
"Yes, and thus my son was born in the backstage of the Music Hall of Williamsburg."

"Okay, I'm sorry, but yes, you're such an idiot."
"I know, but at least he's got an interesting story to tell on first dates," Hunnigan laughed and Helena did too, slowly growing more serious as she took a moment before speaking again.

"I gotta ask...why do you work for the DSO? I mean, you've got all kinds of skills and talent, you wouldn't have to—"

"First of all...the band is just for fun, not a steady source of income, and I wouldn't want to play for a living, having my livelihood depend on gigs would suck the fun out of it. Secondly, I know you've had your bubble burst regarding the methods we resort to at times, but the agency means a lot to me, it is my life's work. I don't want to quit. I don't want you to quit either because I think you're a damn good agent, but I understand your reasons," Hunnigan explained. "Please, don't hate me over this."

"I don't. I wouldn't. I just...don't like it."

"It's not like every suspect is hauled off to a black site where I personally flog them until they tell me what I want to hear. We don't waterboard people, we don't use stress poses, it's just...sleep deprivation and isolation mostly, and I know that's not harmless but it's what we do when we're not left with any other option. I understand why you don't approve of it, but you have to agree that in some circumstances it is worth it."

"I've heard the speech before, and I still don't agree with it. Furthermore, just because you don't know of any waterboarding happening doesn't mean it isn't done."

"If using enhanced interrogation techniques on someone would have prevented your squad from getting ambushed in Afghanistan, don't you think it would've been worth it?" Hunnigan asked and regretted saying it the moment she'd finished speaking. Helena stared at her in disbelief for a long moment, her jaw tightening as she bit her teeth together.

"That's a low blow," she snapped, grabbed the empty glass from the coffee table and went to the kitchen, the sound of running water shortly following as she rinsed the glass before placing it in the dish rack.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Yeah, no shit," Helena muttered as she walked out of the kitchen furiously.
"Where are you going?" Hunnigan asked when Helena put her boots and jacket on, then grabbed a leash and patted the side of her thigh to summon Charlie.

"Out!" she snapped at Hunnigan and left, slamming the door behind her.

"...ssshit," Hunnigan hissed slowly, ran her hand over her face and sighed. Great. Just great.

Helena was annoyed but not because of what Hunnigan had said but because she was right; the fact that Helena would've gone back and tortured the details of the ambush out of someone in heartbeat if given the chance to change the past made her a hypocrite which only added insult to injury.

"I guess this is what they call character growth," Helena muttered to Charlie who sat by her as she stood in the apartment building's courtyard, smoking. She'd taken a short walk with Charlie before returning here.

Not so long ago a similar situation would've caused her to leave in a huff and stay gone, seething for days, unwilling to acknowledge that she too had been in the wrong. Now, however, the anger was...different. Still white hot, but not a priority. Taking the time to think about the consequences of her words and actions were more important than satisfying the idiotic yet often inevitable and overwhelming urge to hurt the other person in some way, to get the last word, to be the loudest before storming off refusing to listen to reason. Helena didn't know if it was just that she didn't want to hurt Hunnigan or if it was something that would apply to everyone. Regardless, she didn't want to take this further.

She didn't want to wander around and end up at a bar, she didn't want to drink too much and then smoke too much, and finally end up God only knew where and with whom, all done just because somewhere in the back of her mind she vehemently believed that making bad decisions and stupid mistakes which ultimately only hurt Helena, would somehow be the equivalent of getting even with Hunnigan.

Thinking about it now and realizing how incredibly idiotic it was, Helena didn't even want to admit she'd never spared a second thought to that behavior until recently.

"Come on, let's go home," she said to Charlie, put out her cigarette and headed back inside.
"Oh, you're back," Hunnigan said when Helena entered the apartment and took Charlie's leash off.

"You're surprised," Helena commented as she hung her jacket and kicked off her boots.
"Honestly, I am, I wasn't expecting to see you until morning at the earliest," Hunnigan muttered and Helena sighed deeply. Just when had Hunnigan learned to know her well enough to read her this accurately?

"Well, yeah, but this is, uh...it's a new thing I'm trying, this whole thinking things through before going on a homicidal rampage," Helena said somewhat awkwardly and Hunnigan smiled.
"Thank you for coming back. Now...I know we probably need to talk more about this and everything but I'm really, really tired, and I have surgery in the morning, so...I need to get some sleep," she said.

"Oh, of course, I'm...sorry. Do you need a hand with anything?" Helena inquired and Hunnigan nodded a little.
"Someone's gotta undress me," she grinned and Helena chuckled.

They went to the bedroom and after arranging the pillows into a pile to help Hunnigan be able to sleep upright, she went to the dresser and sat by it as Helena helped free her arm from the sling it was in.

"I'll be sure to include all of this in my letter of recommendation for you volunteering at the hospital," Hunnigan said as Helena went to stand in front of her on her knees.
"I appreciate it," Helena said with a smile. She leaned closer to Hunnigan and began to unbutton the shirt she was wearing, both of them knowing this was not the thing Hunnigan needed assistance with —and given enough time and practice she probably would've managed on her own all the way— but Helena wanted to do this.

"Listen...I want you to know that I really am sorry about what I said. It was uncalled for."

"Maybe it was, but at the end of the day...you're right. About everything. Let's just call it even and leave it, talking about it in circles won't change anything," Helena said softly as she slowly continued unbuttoning Hunnigan's shirt, the intimacy of the act not going unnoticed by either of them.

Helena suddenly felt her breath catch up in her throat when she noticed the way Hunnigan was regarding her; with a gentleness Helena didn't think anyone had ever beheld her before. It made her feel vulnerable and even a little raw, definitely disarmed, but most importantly it made her feel loved, and it made her feel love so intense toward Hunnigan she swore she could feel her heart literally swell in her chest just thinking about her.

"Hunnigan..?" she said quietly once she was done unbuttoning the shirt.
"Yes?"

Helena wanted to tell her she loved her. They hadn't said it to each other yet and despite what one might very easily assume after all the time they'd spent together just making out and cuddling, Helena didn't want to leave it on that, she didn't want to base it all on an assumption no matter how fair the assumption was.

"You have great taste in underwear," she chickened out and Hunnigan chortled.

"Thank you," she said as Helena eased the sleeve over Hunnigan's left arm and then her injured right arm before pulling the shirt off completely. She was about to stand up and turn to look away to give Hunnigan some privacy to remove the recently complimented bra when Hunnigan grabbed the waist of Helena's jeans.

"Ah!" Helena yelped in surprise when Hunnigan pulled her back down and then to herself, wrapping her uninjured arm around Helena tightly.

"I love you," she said against the side of Helena's neck, her voice quiet and earnest. "I love you," she repeated, squeezing Helena tighter as she held onto her.
"I love you too," Helena whispered and returned the embrace.