Chapter Eight: I Will Frighten All of Your Fears Away

On the other end of the phone, Gemma ended the call after not letting Helena decline the forceful invitation. Clay looked over at Gemma, her lips pulled into a smile as she stared down at her phone long after she ended the call.

"What're you doing Gem?" he grumbled and stretched deeply.

Gemma smirked at him, "just bringing people together baby," she murmured before sliding out from the covers to fetch the zippered pouch with Clay's sterile needles and vials of cortisone.

As Gemma moved around the kitchen and made a shopping list for the barbecue dinner, across town at Helena's, Tig eventually followed Helena out to the kitchen and settled at the counter as he watched Helena rinse out the coffee carafe and start a fresh pot of French roast.

Tig had pulled back on his jeans and shirt, Helena had added a robe over her pajamas emblazoned with faded yellow stars.

Tig stared at her with such silent intensity that Helena blushed until she looked like a tomato about to burst as she brought over a carton of half and half and a sugar jar. They were both quiet as they each prepared their own mugs of coffee.

Tig followed her hand's movement as she crumbled up a piece of lined paper from the counter and shoved it deep into the pocket of her cotton robe.

Tig pretended he hadn't noticed and paid attention to splashing more creamer into his cup.

"Did you sleep alright?" Tig asked, his voice still scratchy after his morning coughing and throat clearing ritual. Always saying he was going to stop smoking and abusing his body when the clotted, thick phlegm glistened up at him from the sink. Sometimes it was shot through with blood like those random eggs with bloody striated bits and lines. The feeling always passed when he had his first cigarette and imbibed in whatever else tripped his trigger.

After Tig drained his cup, he rose from the bar stool and walked over to the bay window that looked out over an unkempt raised bed of sweet peas. He turned and gathered up the takeout boxes of now cold, congealed cheese and grease they hadn't eaten.

Helena watched him over the chipped rim of her mug as he dumped the cardboard turned flaccid from the pull of hardened fat and shoved them to fit upon the base of discarded petals.

"You don't have to do that," Helena finally said when Tig began to sweep up the strewn about petals, creating a colorful pile with the velvet blossoms.

"It's not a problem," Tig murmured and continued sweeping the beautiful trash into a dustpan.

"It's my mess to clean up," Helena murmured and looked away when Tig rose to his full height and seemed to stare inside of her. "Let me help you," he stated.

Tig capitalized on her distraction and reached out with the speed of the god of lightning and snatched the crumbled lined piece of paper from her robe's pocket.

"Hey?!" Helena managed, startled at his reptilian speed. "Give that back!," she demanded as he held the paper away from her.

"What is this?"

"Nothing important, just my weekend to-do list," Helena admitted and leaned back against the counter as she crossed her arms, hotly embarrassed.

"Laundry…Groceries….Finish unpacking," Tig began to read before she interrupted him. "I know what it says, I was just going to try and get a lot done over the weekend and I like making lists," Helena added in a rush.

"Then let's go get cherry tomatoes, cabbage, spaghetti sauce and whole peppercorns," Tig read from the list, not taking his eyes off of her for a nanosecond longer than absolutely necessary.

"You want to go to the grocery store?" Helena asked lamely.

"It's on the list," Tig stated flatly.

Helena could not offer a rebuttal that could carry water and eventually nodded. Tig followed her back to her bedroom and watched her gather up a stack of fresh clothes and close herself into the bathroom.

Tig pressed his ear to the locked door and listened as she brushed her teeth and held his breath so he could hear the zipper of her jeans close. He made sure he was occupied putting on his boots when she emerged from the bathroom, his hands tightening on his boots as his eyes traveled the denim that was a second skin on her slim thighs, Tig felt his usual problem-solving solutions spring to his frontal cortex and head of his cock. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw popped as he reminded himself for a double-digit amount of times since rising, that Helena was not like the women who orbited at the Club House.

Helena pulled on a plain grey zippered sweater over a t-shirt with a faded band's logo, only a few letters coherent at this point.

"Do you want to drive?" Helena asked as she held out her keys. "If you'd like," Tig said taking the keys from her.

Helena shrugged, "I should, I'm still learning where everything is but I'm kind of tired."

Tig clicked the key fob until the doors unlocked and watched Helena slide into the passenger seat. He followed suit behind the wheel and started the small SUV.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Tig asked as he let the engine idle.

"Yes, what is it?" Helena asked as she turned off the radio.

"What happens when Piney dies?"

Helena wasn't sure what he meant; she didn't think he wanted her to describe the process of decomposition. ""You mean burial plans?" she tried for.

Tig dropped a hand to squeeze the top of her thigh, "no, where will you go?"

Helena pressed her lips together, "I'm not planning on leaving Charming."

Tig slid his hand down the front of her thigh and brushed his fingertips in a circle over her denim-clad knee before he put the SUV in reverse. "That's good to hear," he murmured and headed towards the grocery store.

Tig found a fairly close parking spot and watched Helena pull a plastic bag full of other plastic bags from the trunk before selecting a cart with the least squeaky of wheels.

Tig followed Helena through the brightly lit aisles of the store, the bright yellow tags all shouting sales and bargain prices in a bold, red font.

Helena could feel the weight of Tig's eyes from where he followed her. She could feel his piercing cerulean blue eyes watch her fingers close around the corner of a marshmallow flecked box of cereal and select several fuzzy yellow peaches.

Tig wasn't paying attention to any of the aisles or what Helena was even putting in the cart until she stopped short, and he nearly ran over her.

"I thought you might like to pick out what you want, since, since you're, staying," Helena stumbled over as she gestured to the wall of shampoos, body washes and other personal care products.

Tig let a hand drop to her waist and hooked his index finger in one of her belt loops before he tugged her closer. "Thank you," he murmured before pressing his lips to Helena's.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Gemma was shopping in the same store for the barbecue. She had happened to turn the aisle the moment Tig and Helena's lips met.

Gemma kept her smile and tone neutral as she waited to speak until Tig broke his attention away from Helena long enough to find a deodorant.

"It must be the morning to shop," Gemma called as she pushed her full cart towards them.

Helena brushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear and smiled as she met Gemma's eyes. "Thank you again for the invite," Helena said as she walked towards Gemma. Tig watched the two women embrace.

"It looks like you found a friend to bring with you," Gemma murmured against Helena's ear before they stepped apart. Helena covered a smile and half-nodded, "yes, something like that," she offered.

Tig added a few plastic bottles to the shopping cart before walking over to stand next to Helena, fighting himself to not drop an arm around her shoulders.

"Can I bring anything tomorrow Gemma?" Helena asked.

Gemma shook her head, "no, I've got it all covered."

Helena said goodbye and turned and began to push the cart down the aisle in the opposite direction. Tig paused and watched Helena walk away, halted further when Gemma gripped his forearm and added with a wink, "see you for dinner tomorrow Tigger."

Tig and Helena finished filling the cart and breezed through the self-checkout, using every bag Helena had brought into the store with them.

They loaded the car and drove back to her place in a comfortable silence, Tig was too distracted by Helena to notice the red Chrysler follow them from the grocery store parking lot and turn left onto a side street before Helena's house came into view.

Dr. Andrew Wakefield tightened his hands on the wheel until his knuckles turned white as he watched Helena and the unnamed enforcer type in leather, unload a glut of groceries and exchange just as many smiles and shared glances.

Andrew took a few pictures with his telephoto lens and contacted a college fraternity brother that now worked for the NSA and could find out anything that didn't want to be found.

Andrew loaded the pictures of Tig, his motorcycle and license plate to his brother and hit send. He eventually drove away, that pastry place was addicting and now he was reduced to simply waiting.

After the groceries were unloaded, Helena ran out of things to keep her hands occupied. "Do you want something to eat? I'm going to make something to snack on," Helena asked as she looked at the clock on the microwave.

Tig nodded, "whatever's easiest."

"Bagel and cream cheese?" she asked as she dropped one in the toaster for herself.

Tig nodded and refilled his cup from the tepid carafe and reheated it for a couple minutes in the microwave as the warm scent of cinnamon filled the air from the toasting bagels.

Helena spread a thick layer of cream cheese on each bagel half and put two on a plate for him as she joined him at the counter.

Tig watched Helena take a bite of the well-toasted bagel and pluck a fallen raisin from the pale blue plate before he spoke.

"What's next on your list?" he asked taking a bite, his hunger awakened with the varying textures and flavors and made him realize how hungry he had let himself become.

Helena wadded up a paper napkin and wiped her mouth clean before pulling the list from her purse, it was still wrinkled but legible. "I let the laundry get away from me and need to run the bed linen through too, the unpacking is going to be on the list for a while," Helena murmured and folded the list into a rectangle before looking up and meeting his eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find any words and adjusted her gaze until she was looking at the wall past his shoulder.

"What is it?" Tig asked when she dropped her eyes to her half-eaten bagel and scattering of plump raisins.

Tig pushed his plate aside and rose from the barstool when Helena wordlessly shook her head.

"What do you need baby?" Tig asked as he walked around the counter and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Helena laughed nervously, "why do you really want to be here?" she asked as she blew out a sharp breath, very aware of the moment he settled his hands on the counter on either side of her.

Tig settled his hand over hers and moved the rough pad of his index finger in small circles on the top of her hand, dancing his touch down the length of the bare fingers of her left hand.

Tig's mind whirred loudly with all the answers that wanted to spill from his lips. He didn't know how to tell her that when he looked at her, she practically blocked out the sun and he found himself in a foreign land of insecurities with the capital city of vulnerability.

"Why're you letting me stay here with you?" Tig finally asked and dropped his hands to her waist, splaying his fingers to smooth down the sides of her hips and knead her supple flesh through her jeans.

He didn't give Helena a moment to answer before he tightened his grip and lifted her to the edge of the counter. "Why?" Tig pressed as Helena's breathing grew erratic and she didn't trust the strength of her voice.

"Because you make me feel safe," Helena whispered before her voice threatened to break. "Last night was one of the first times I've slept the whole night or not had a nightmare since I left Florida," she admitted.

Tig lifted a hand and cupped her jaw, tracing his thumb over her lower lip before sliding his hand through the fall of her hair to cradle the back of her skull.

"What happened in Florida?" Tig asked when he lifted his lips, his words delivered on a ragged exhale.

Helena raised her hands and pressed her palms flat against his chest. "I don't really want to talk about it right now," she whispered as she shook her head.

As Tig tightened his grip on Helena's hips, kneading the firm flesh through her jeans, across town at St. Thomas's, Dr. Wakefield convinced a security guard with low self-esteem to unlock the Human Resources office with his bedroom eyes and rapier wit.