Saturday, November 1st, 2014.

Helena slowly moved to press herself into Hunnigan's side and let her arm and leg rest over Hunnigan who lay on her back, still fast asleep. Helena didn't really want to wake her up; if there was anyone on the planet who had earned the right to sleep in any day, it was Hunnigan. That said, Helena didn't really want to miss the hotel breakfast, and they'd stop serving it soon.

Helena leaned in to gently nuzzle the side of Hunnigan's neck, moving to plant a series of tiny kisses on her skin, trailing her way up to Hunnigan's ear.

"Ingrid," she whispered. Hunnigan let out a sleepy hum as her arm instinctively tightened around Helena. "We're gonna be late for breakfast," Helena continued in a whisper and softly pinched Hunnigan's earlobe between her lips.

"Ow."
"Oh, come on, that couldn't have hurt," Helena said.

"No, babe, you're on my shoulder," Hunnigan groaned and pulled back as Helena moved in the opposite direction to move off and release the pressure her weight had put on Hunnigan's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

"It's okay, it's just a bit...agitated from last night, I suppose," Hunnigan muttered and sat up to be able to stretch her arm a little.
"That, and I bet you've been neglecting your exercises," Helena remarked, and Hunnigan sighed, not even bothering to deny it. "Did Cassia say anything about it, did she refer you to anyone?" she then asked.

"She...cleared me," Hunnigan avoided and Helena quirked an eyebrow.
"And by 'cleared' you mean...?"

"Well...you know how sometimes in sports one of the key players hasn't fully recovered, but they need to play, so the team's doctor pumps them full of pain killers to get them through the game?"
"Yes, and those athletes risk permanent damage because, guess what, pain is a sign of something being broken in your body."

"Yeah, Cassia did say something along the lines of risking permanent nerve damage—"
"Ingrid!" Helena exclaimed and sat up as well. "How could you do something so irresponsible, what the hell were you thinking!"

"That I had a gig to play and that I'd take it easy, which I did. I'm fine, just a little achy and stiff."
"Unbelievable," Helena muttered.

"Look, it's done, what do you want me to do about it now?"
"Nothing," Helena sighed deeply, "but I really wish you'd stop taking this so lightly, your shoulder's already suffered major trauma, repeatedly; adding unnecessary stress to it is plain stupid. You're better than that."

"Evidently I'm not."
"Ingrid..."

"I'll do better, I promise," Hunnigan smiled, leaned to kiss Helena and got out of bed then. Helena sighed deeply but didn't comment. She knew Hunnigan meant what she said but she also knew it would take all but five minutes and an important enough task to make her forget and default back to self-sacrificing.

A while later, they had gotten dressed and both headed down for breakfast with twenty minutes to spare.

As they entered the room, Helena's attention was immediately drawn to Isabela who was sitting at the table by a window, the sheer force of her personality and her charisma making it almost impossible to not let one's eyes fall upon her. She was still dressed in the same clothes she'd worn last night, with the addition of a long, light, almost see-through jacket, which Helena realized was the royal blue sash that Isabela had had tied around her waist, only when unfurled it transformed into a jacket that managed to make the entire ensemble go from overly sexy to just plain casual-almost-business.

Hawke sat with her, eating her breakfast as Isabela spoke on the phone. Hawke noticed Helena and Hunnigan, and waved at them to join them, and Helena wondered how this would go. She knew Hawke to be somewhat shameless but she didn't think Hawke would've so freely invited Hunnigan to join her if she'd been made aware of Isabela and Hunnigan's relationship.

After getting their food, they walked over to Hawke's table.

"Pleading the fifth is a pretty big red flag, so I'd advise against doing so, especially since you didn't do anything," Isabela sighed to whoever was on the other end of the call.

You dense motherfucker, she mouthed an addition and rolled her eyes.

"Honey, the FBI is not your friend, convincing them of how nice you are and how you only want to help won't serve your interest in the slightest, and unless you want them to take you into custody, you'll tell them you won't agree to be interviewed unless I'm with you. Go home," Isabela said and abruptly ended the call.

"Tough case?" Hawke asked.
"Nothing I can't fix," Isabela shrugged and took a sip of her coffee.

"You're still here," Hunnigan said to her as she sat next to her.
"Good morning to you too, kitten," Isabela said, and Helena noticed Hawke frown a little at the term of endearment. Helena sucked on the insides of her cheeks to keep from grinning as she watched Hawke struggle to piece everything together.

"I'm just waiting for my ride. And here he is now," Isabela then said as Garrett arrived. Hawke's confusion became more and more visible when she watched the bearded man approach the table, greet Hunnigan and Isabela in a very familiar way, kissing both women's cheeks.

"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Yes," Isabela confirmed and stood up. "Adiós gatito," she told Hunnigan and planted a quick kiss on her temple before turning to leave.

"Adiós mamá," Hunnigan responded without breaking eye contact with Hawke.

At that moment two things happened; Helena lost her poker face and burst out laughing at the expression on Hawke's face when she finally realized who she'd slept with last night, and Hawke -in her shocked state- inhaled the piece of bacon she'd been chewing on.

"I got this," Helena then assured when it became obvious Hawke was actually choking. She quickly moved to stand behind her, put her arms around Hawke, and forcefully thrust her hands into Hawke's abdomen, expelling the errant piece of bacon from her trachea.

"Motherfucker," Hawke wheezed.
"No, you are," Helena chuckled and patted Hawke's back.

Helena had spent almost the entire day in a state of varying levels of awe as Hunnigan had agreed to take Helena visit the places she'd always heard everyone tell her she should visit if she was in New York; they'd visited the Basilica of 's Old Cathedral and done the tour of the catacombs, stopped by the Empire State Building, and continued from there to a restaurant in Williamsburg where Hunnigan had once upon a time promised/threatened to bring Helena in order to cure her from her heathen ways of eating unseasoned eggs with ketchup.

"I think we'll have time to check out the Brooklyn Flea before we need to start heading back if we want to stop by the Met before dinner," Hunnigan mused after checking her watch.
"Sounds good," Helena said, not entirely certain what Hunnigan was talking about exactly, but she figured she'd find out soon enough.

"Also, I realize that having dinner with my parents is probably not in your top ten things to do for fun, so if you want to skip it and go do a pub crawl with Hawke or something, I won't mind."
"I don't think Hawke is in any condition to do that, I probably bruised her ribs when I Heimliched her, not to mention she's probably still in shock over Isabela," Helena chuckled. Hawke had mentioned her plan for the day was to stay in the hotel room and make the most out of room service, and the room's bathtub.

Typically Helena would've been happy doing the same or something similar, but the chance to visit new places, especially with Hunnigan, was far more exciting; Helena had barely been anywhere before. Sure, she'd done some traveling for work and while in the military, but those instances had never left her with opportunities and time to go sightseeing.

"...unless you think it would be better that I won't attend dinner?" Helena then realized to inquire.
"No, I do want you with me, of course. But again, if you don't want to, you don't have to, is all I'm saying."

"I'll be there," Helena smiled.
"Okay, good," Hunnigan smiled back.

After finishing their meals, they headed over to the Brooklyn Flea, which turned out to be —as the name may have suggested— a large flea market. Most of the things that were on sale didn't particularly interest Helena; she wasn't one to wear much jewelry, and preferred her clothing more plain than the items of that sort on sale. Then she spotted a man selling art, and made her way over to him.

They chatted for a bit as she browsed his wares, and finally she found a piece she had to have.

"Ingrid. We need this," she said and pointed out a painting of two fluffy baby owls.
"Definitely," Hunnigan agreed with a smile.

Once finished with the transaction, they headed back to the hotel to drop off the painting (and to check up on Hawke, who was happily lazing away in the bathtub) before continuing to the Metropolitan museum of art. Helena admitted she was completely expecting to become bored in no time, but she was quickly proven wrong as she found herself fascinated by practically everything, even items and events she hadn't really thought much about.

She noticed Hunnigan giving her a gentle look as she chuckled, and Helena frowned at that.

"What?"
"I just love seeing you so excited, it's cute," Hunnigan shrugged as they toured the arms and armor-department.

"Me being an ignorant grunt who has never visited a museum before is cute to you?" Helena smirked.
"You nerding out over things you find cool is cute to me," Hunnigan corrected.

"Well, can you blame me, these are so fu—er, let me class it up a bit...frigging cool," Helena said and pointed at the detailed decorations on the flintlock rifle on display. "When we get home, I think I'm gonna decorate my guns, make them...twenty percent cooler," she then added.

"Twenty percent cooler?" Hunnigan chuckled.
"It's a Rainbow Dash-reference, Seeley would get it."

"Wow, I can't believe you and my son have your own My little pony-related inside jokes," Hunnigan put her hand over her chest to exaggerate the mock-hurt.

Helena had managed not to think about the upcoming dinner with Hunnigan's parents during the day but once it was time to exit the museum and she lost the last distraction, she could feel nervousness beginning to brew in the pit of her stomach; having dinner with Garrett Del Rey sharing the table was an anxiety-inducing thought.

I've faced zombies, monsters, terrorists, criminals, and whateverthehell Kassandra Good should be classified as, but one fucking dinner with my wife's dad has me terrified. Ugh, loser, Helena sighed internally at herself as she walked beside Hunnigan toward her parents' apartment at Fifth Avenue.

"There's over a mile's worth of museums for you to check out here if you'd prefer doing that," Hunnigan said as if having read Helena's mind.
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Helena smirked. "Look, I know you're trying to spare me, but you don't have to. Besides, we're married, it's about high time I officially met your parents anyway."

"Yeah, I may have kind of completely forgotten to tell them we got married. Not that they haven't already figured it out but still, I expect to get some shit about not inviting them to the wedding."
"Seriously?"

"Well, we did it so quickly and it's not like I generally report to them anyway, so it slipped my mind," Hunnigan shrugged sheepishly as she led Helena toward the apartment building.

"Oh, wonderful," Helena sighed a little as she followed. "Wait, people actually live in places like this? Like, real people? I didn't think places like this existed outside of movies," Helena muttered then as they entered the pre-war apartment building, the door held open for them by a doorman dressed in a tidy uniform, the ensemble topped off by a pair of white gloves on his hands.

"Good evening, Ms. Del Rey," he greeted Hunnigan.
"Good evening, Joaquin. How's the elbow?"
"Getting better, Ms. Del Rey, thank you for asking," he smiled.

Oh, God, I am way out of my element, Helena groaned internally as she got into the elevator with Hunnigan.

"Suddenly I feel like I should've worn an evening dress or something," she said out loud then, and Hunnigan laughed softly.

"Yeah, because I'm dressed to impress," she said, gesturing at her body. She wore dark gray jeans and black boots, a black leather jacket and underneath that a red and black plaid flannel shirt over a simple white T-shirt. Frankly, out of the two of them, Helena was the one who was better dressed in her black straight pants and burgundy collared shirt.

"And furthermore, this is not a fancy dinner, it's chicken my dad's probably managed to burn and lumpy mashed potatoes, you have nothing to worry about," Hunnigan assured as the elevator arrived at the destination floor.
"How are you not stuck up?" Helena asked.

"What do you mean?" Hunnigan laughed as she unlocked the door and let them into the brightly lit vestibule. It took Helena a long moment to answer because she was too busy gawking at everything. Yep, definitely fancy, way too rich for her blood. At least the decor was in better taste than what she'd expected based on how she'd seen wealthy people generally decorate with pretentious art and tacky furniture.

"Well, I have never even heard of rich people being decent, so how are you not a total asshole?" Helena whispered and Hunnigan laughed harder.
"Just because my parents have money doesn't mean I have money. They didn't even pay for my education, I went to school on a scholarship, remember?" she reminded Helena.

"That makes no sense to me, though. If I could afford it, I'd totally spoil my kids."
"Yes, and then they'd be assholes, so I figure not being spoiled by my parents is why I'm not an asshole," Hunnigan smiled.

"Point taken."
"Perfect timing, dinner's just ready," Garrett greeted when they entered the dining room where Isabela sat at the end of the table, Marisha and Nolan sitting to her right. Helena felt a sense of relief wash over her when she saw them and realized it wouldn't be just her and Hunnigan.

After a round of greetings, Garrett and Isabela carried the food in from the kitchen before sitting down for dinner. For the most part, it was a lovely dinner, the food was good and the conversation flowed comfortably (thanks to Marisha and Nolan who expertly drew attention away from Helena for which she was grateful), but as Helena had suspected, it did turn sour the later it got. She just hadn't expected the exact way things would turn that way, and she certainly hadn't expected that she herself would not be the cause of it.

Helena lit a cigarette and took a deep inhale of smoke as she stood on the narrow terrace. The view was brilliant and the weather nice and cool, the city lights dotting the horizon as far as the eye could see, the sound of traffic from Fifth Avenue very audible but not overbearing at this height. Helena couldn't even begin to imagine living in a place like this let alone growing up here.

Oh, God, Helena groaned internally when Garrett stepped out to the terrace and joined her. Evidently she'd said it out loud because he chuckled and said, "Am I that bad?"

"What?" Helena exclaimed, mortified upon realizing her groan must not have been as internal as she'd thought.
"You've been as anxious as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," he elaborated and lit a cigarette, moving to stand next to her, leaning his forearms to the railing.

"Well...no offense but the last time we met you made it quite clear you don't like me, so excuse me for feeling a bit awkward," she told Garrett.
"Yeah, about that. I owe you an apology," he said and Helena's eyebrows rose.

"Really?"

"Yes. You know what they say, when you hear hooves, you think about horses, not zebras, and you were the horse, and instead of doing my job properly, I just decided that you were guilty because it was more convenient than trying to find someone else who could've been responsible. I was a shitty cop, and I apologize for that, and I'm glad Ingrid and Isabela figured it out because if they hadn't, I'd have sending an innocent woman to jail on my conscience, and I can do without that."

"Wow, this is...unexpected. Thanks."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still not thrilled about you, not based on everything I learned about you and your history. I think Ingrid can do better, but...that's not up to me, it's up to her."

"...that's fair," Helena muttered.

"I'm not all...fragile male ego who likes to think he's in charge of the women in his life," Garrett smirked.

"Oh, I dunno, asking your wife to quit her job because her winning makes you feel bad seems like a pretty fragile male ego-thing to do," Helena mumbled, and clamped her hand over her mouth as she realized that once again the words were actually leaving her lips. Instead of being insulted, Garrett laughed.

"Is that what you think happened?" he wheezed out a cloud of cigarette smoke as he laughed, shaking his head. "I asked her to quit because she went from being an ace lawyer to being the kind of a lawyer who would withhold discovery and take on the kinds of clients you meet in meat lockers and whose 'family' members will leave bombs at your doorstep or in your car if you lose a case for them. I asked her to quit because I wanted her to be safe, that's all."

"Oh...the impression I got was not quite that," Helena said awkwardly.

"I suppose I should be flattered if I genuinely came across as someone who would have any say in his wife's decisions. I hate to say this but Del Rey women have a way of messing you up in a million different ways. So, heads up, I guess; you'll do well to remember that Ingrid's a purebred Del Rey-woman," he chuckled.

Helena didn't know what to say to that. The Ingrid she knew didn't come across as the kind of a person Garrett was describing, but then again...who was she to say what was the truth?

"For what it's worth, I want you to know she's the most important thing in my life and I will do everything in my power to do right by her."

"Well, then. I guess that's all I can ask for," Garrett shrugged, put out his cigarette and stepped back in, Helena following behind shortly. As she entered the living room, she noticed the mood had shifted while she'd been away.

Had Helena not grown up in the care of an ill-tempered alcoholic, she too would've probably missed the subtle change. However, thanks to her childhood, noticing such things had been wired deeply into her because being able to tell when it happened had often meant life and near-death.

Whenever Frances had drank too much and passed from the point of happily buzzed to wasted, she'd gotten a certain look. Narrowed eyes, mouth set in a disdainful frown one might get when looking at a pile of vomit, anger so palpable emanating from her it was almost visible as she silently mulled over something that was annoying her, the excess of alcohol fueling the anger, enabling it to grow from nothing and blow out of proportion until eventually she'd lash out.

Helena was painfully familiar with the look; she had not, however, ever expected to see that change in demeanor happening in Hunnigan. Not that she could blame her, Isabela's criticizing remarks, as subtle as they were, had been numerous throughout the evening, and apparently Hunnigan had finally had enough.

"Oh, how convenient that you've constructed this perfect little storybook-version of what my childhood was like, completely ignoring all the shit you put me through," Hunnigan yelled.
"I only wanted what was best for you!" Isabela yelled back and slammed her empty glass onto the table.

"You wanted what was best for you! You and your fucking legacy!"
"You're embarrassing yourself."

"No, no, if I was, you wouldn't care. I'm embarrassing you," Hunnigan said, emphasizing her words by jabbing her index finger in Isabela's direction.
"Well, yeah, because like it or not, you are an extension of me!" Isabela scoffed.

"Yes, yes, your precious Del Rey-blood, you value it like it runs with gold, what has it ever gotten you, huh?" Hunnigan questioned, leaning to the coffee table, swaying drunkenly a little as she got into Isabela's face, so close their noses almost touched. "Generations upon generations of careful breeding to produce the best possible specimen of what house Del Rey has to offer, were you as big a disappointment to your mother as I was to you?"

"Ingrid—"
"Oh, wait, you didn't waste any time fulfilling your 'womanly duties' to the family, did you?" Hunnigan spoke over her, stood up straight and went to pour herself another drink at the bar cabinet.

"No, because that's what the fuck life is sometimes, one vile task after another, but you get up, and you get it done," Isabela spat.
"And there it is, finally you admit that Nolan and I were nothing but a vile task for you. Not that I didn't know, but it's good to hear it straight up," Hunnigan laughed bitterly and took a drink from her glass.

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen, it's not like your life was so tragic, and whatever parts of it were, those were your own doing. You ran off and took your brother with you. You enabled his addictions and your own, and when it all went to hell, who made it go away? I did. And that's what really bothers you, isn't it?" Isabela hissed and stood up as well. "You are so fucking arrogant and presumptuous that you can't even fathom the idea that you're capable of making mistakes."

"That's rich coming from you," Hunnigan scoffed.
"Unlike you, when someone points out my mistakes, I own up to them. You never did, and I doubt you ever will, especially since you can so conveniently hide your mistakes from the world. Not every girl can just walk away after harboring two domestic terrorists," Isabela said, and Helena realized she was talking about her and Leon, and what had happened in Tall Oaks.

Oddly enough, it had never occurred to her that she and Leon had been considered domestic terrorists at the time. From Helena's point of view, that wasn't what they'd been, on the contrary, they'd been the only ones trying to bring the actual perpetrators to justice. But from the DSO's point of view, what else were they supposed to think, especially after Leon had openly admitted to shooting the president? What were they supposed to think after it had come out that Helena had sent the president's security detail on a wild goose chase, leaving him vulnerable just long enough for Simmons's agent to get close enough to infect him.

And somehow, Hunnigan had made it go away. Yes, the evidence Helena and Leon had brought back from China had implicated Simmons, but none of that changed Helena's part in it all. She had been coerced but even when taking that mitigating circumstance into account, it would never be enough to convince anyone that the woman who essentially murdered the president should walk free. But here she was. It had never occurred to her to ask how exactly Hunnigan had pulled it off. And now she was growing too scared to ask because she didn't want to know the extent of it all. The more she listened to Isabela go on about Hunnigan's tendency to disappear her mistakes, the more convinced she became that maybe it wasn't all legal.

Ingrid Hunnigan has a dark side, who would've guessed? Helena mused. Well, she supposed anyone who bothered thinking twice about it would've guessed, but Helena had never had any reason to, not really.

"Leave that out of this."
"Why? Because it's inconvenient for you?" Isabela mocked, and nimbly ducked the backhand Hunnigan threw in her direction.

"You dare to"—Isabela began, but Garrett intervened, placing himself between his wife and his daughter who were now about two seconds away from starting to brawl. Helena stepped to Hunnigan and gently tugged on her, pulling her away from her mother as Garrett turned to Isabela.

"Hey-hey-hey, all right, come on now, everybody cool it, all right?" he reasoned as Isabela poured herself a drink, emptied her glass in one large swallow, and set it down.
"I'm going to bed. Good night, kids," she said, turned, and disappeared into the hallway leading out from the living room.

"What did I tell you, honey? A dinner and a show," Nolan finally chimed in, his arm around Marisha's shoulders as they sat on the couch, the redhead visibly biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing.