Author's note: Yes, I know, Helena could not have heard "Do it all the time" by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME because it wasn't published until 2018, and the My little pony baking book wasn't published until 2019, and since this chapter takes place in November 2014, there's a bit of a temporal anomaly happening here, but...don't you be telling anybody about that. Also, be aware that the first segment of this chapter is quite body horror-y, so if that makes you uncomfortable, maybe read just the dialogue? xD
Helena lay in the middle of twisted metal, smoke, dust, and flames surrounding her. The edges of her vision were rippling with darkness, making it difficult to make out where she was, the black vignette obscuring most of her field of vision.
"Trist," Maxima said, shaking her head as she leaned directly over Helena. She tried to speak, to move, but she couldn't. It was as if she were trapped in her body, conscious but unable to control it.
"Ikke vær lei deg, " Maxima smiled, and as she did, the flesh of her mouth tore, the surface of her lower lip breaking into open wounds that oozed something black before tearing completely, the pieces landing on Helena's face.
Her head lolled to the side and she saw Jane walking around her, slight limp noticeable in her step. She bent down and picked up several arms and legs, and began carrying them toward the fire. She threw them in, the flames crackling and humming loudly as they were fed, the somewhat sweet smell of cooking meat filling the air. As she came back to pick up more pieces, Helena noticed she was falling apart too, strips of flesh and black ooze dripping into the sand like overcooked meat crumbling off the bone.
"I gave you an order, corporal."
"He's just a kid," Helena argued, and Jane knelt beside her, a strip of darkened tissue tearing off the side of her neck and falling on the ground, a wet squelching sound accompanying it. Jane's fingers dug into the back of Helena's head and she balled her hand into a fist, gripping a handful of Helena's hair, yanking on it to force Helena to look over to the crumbling building that was on fire.
"They use them! We take them in to treat their injuries only to find out the kid is wearing a bomb, you know this, Harper. They don't deserve your pity or remorse," Jane snarled and let go of Helena's hair so abruptly her head hit the ground hard. Before Helena had a chance to speak again, Jane stepped to stand in front of her.
"I shouldn't, I'm a vegetarian, but I can't help it," she said and pointed at her mouth. For a moment Helena assumed Jane would eat her, but instead, Jane bit down on her own tongue, the white of her teeth disappearing into the red tissue, blood smearing over the unnaturally white bone that chewed through the tongue.
She then bit into her forearm, another mouth opening into it where there should've been a wound. This continued until she had chewed through her body, transforming it into a mess of bloody mouths. Then, simultaneously, the teeth exploded outward from all of them, the gummy, thin-lipped orifices laughing as they decomposed with the rest of Jane's body, dissolving into a mess the sand absorbed.
The environment shifted, Helena was no longer in a desert, instead she found herself back at the cabin where she and Hunnigan had gotten snowed in together. For a brief moment, she felt somewhat comforted by that, but the feeling didn't last. Not even when Hunnigan knelt beside her, lifted Helena toward herself and held her against her chest.
"I wish I had breastmilk so I could feed you," she said, her hands sinking into Helena's hair as she held her, and before Helena had a chance to question Hunnigan's words, she let go of Helena, dropping her onto the floor with a loud thud. She walked a little ways away and jumped up onto a stage that was set up in the back of the room. It made no sense, there wasn't supposed to be a stage there, that was where the couch should've been.
Hunnigan took a seat on a stool, one foot resting on the narrow bar between the stool's legs as she played the guitar propped up in her lap, providing music to Deborah who had appeared out of nowhere and now stood a few paces away from Hunnigan, illuminated by a beam of light that had no source. She sang to the tune Hunnigan was playing.
" Now we're so young, but we're probably gonna die. It's so fun, we're so good at selling lies. We look so good and we never even try, get your money from a trust fund, do it all the time. "
Helena focused her glance on Hunnigan and noticed she was also deteriorating, the pickguard sticky with blood seeping from her fingertips, the strings squeaking loudly as she moved her fingers along the guitar's neck, the tissue slowly fragmenting away, leaving behind only the bones clicking against the ebony fretboard.
When Helena looked back at Deborah, she saw Kassandra Good standing behind her. She reached her arm over Deborah's shoulder to hold up her index finger in front of Helena's face, the limb extending unnaturally to reach Helena on the ground. She wiggled it slowly from left to right and back, shaking her head slowly in the same rhythm. She then pulled her arm back, put her finger over her lips and silently hushed Helena.
"I said, oh, yes, sir, but my name is Lee, and I murdered little-Sadie in the first degree," Hunnigan sang in the background, the skin on her shoulder rippling for a moment before the broken humerus burst through it, sticking out grotesquely, but she kept playing the song as if nothing was wrong. Good reached in her direction, grabbed the bone and yanked it out, causing Hunnigan to shatter, as if the splintered humerus had been the only thing keeping her together. She then held it up for Helena to see, and somewhere along the way, it had transformed from a bone to a nightstick, one of Good's favorite tools for violating her victims.
"You know where this goes," Good said, a wide smile on her lips as she held up the nightstick that was now dripping with thick gore that was rusty and black in its color.
She stood behind Deborah who was in the middle of the stage, naked, her skin gray and glistening in the spotlight, her eyes now an unnatural shade of pale yellow, the pupils gone. The fingers of Good's free hand dug violently into the soft tissue of Deborah's breast, sinking beneath the skin, blood squirting from the punctures, streams of red running up along Good's fingers and over her wrist before dripping down onto the ground, and she slowly brought the hand holding the nightstick down.
"No, let her go! Not my sister! Please, I'll do anything! Please! Please, don't hurt her!"
Good didn't have the chance to say or do anything more before an arm appeared from behind her, wrapped around her chest and held her still as the other arm dragged a familiar looking dagger across her throat, tearing open the skin and allowing the blood to flow in a generous stream; or it should have been blood, what Helena saw was more of that black, tar-like substance everyone here seemed to be oozing. Good's head lolled back, stretching the wound further until it looked like her head was hanging on by a mere strip of flesh, then her entire body collapsed onto the floor with a loud, wet thud.
Hawke stood behind her, the stained blade in her hand, her face covered in the moldy substance from the nose down, the goop originating from the wound across her face. She smiled and brought her free hand over to her face, pressing her index finger against her lips to silently tell Helena to keep quiet. Then she walked off the stage, her movements awkward and stiff, unnatural even. Helena realized this was because Hawke had strings growing out of her arms, legs, her head, and her back. No, not strings, barbed wire, and as Helena followed their path up with her gaze, she saw the ends of the wires were tightly wrapped around the puppeteer's fingers, namely, Hunnigan's fingers.
The puppeteer who wore Hunnigan's face but who also wasn't Hunnigan (Helena couldn't say how or why she knew that, she just did, this was not Ingrid Hunnigan) leaned forward, her body stretching down from whatever perch it was stationed on, and Helena felt herself being picked up, the darkness punctured by a warm glow emanating from the not-Hunnigan. She whispered as she held Helena's face in the cups of her hands, and Helena felt an overwhelming flood of solace and comfort engulf her.
"I am your God; long may I reign."
Helena woke up to find Charlie had gone ahead and turned the lights on in the bedroom before climbing onto the bed and settling to rest on Helena's midsection, gently poking at her arm with his nose to try and wake her calmly.
"It's okay, it's okay, good boy," Helena whispered to him and sat up, wiping a generous amount of sweat from her neck and chest.
"What are you doing?" Hunnigan mumbled, still asleep, but frowning a little as she turned around to face Helena.
"Nothing, go back to sleep," Helena said softly. "Charlie, turn the lights off. Go ahead, boy, turn them off," she then said to Charlie in a stage whisper and he did as he was told before returning to the bed. Helena quietly praised him and rewarded him with gentle pets before settling back down.
"What's wrong?" Hunnigan asked sleepily.
"Everything's okay," Helena assured her. Her side of the bed felt uncomfortably damp, her sweat having soaked through the sheet and seeped into the mattress.
"Come here," Hunnigan said, and she didn't have to say it twice; Helena pressed her body against Hunnigan's, her head resting on Hunnigan's bicep, tucked underneath Hunnigan's chin as she put her hand on the back of Helena's head and wrapped the other around her midsection.
She didn't think she'd ever told Hunnigan how much she loved it when Hunnigan held her like this. It wasn't just the closeness, it was the little detail of feeling Hunnigan's hand on the back of her head, and the other on the small of her back; the warmth emanating from her hands making Helena feel safe, even more so than one might expect from such a small gesture.
"What's wrong?" Hunnigan asked again, and only then Helena realized she'd begun to sob, uncontrollably, and much to her annoyance, rather loudly. Or perhaps it was the perfect silence in the room that made even a whisper as loud as a scream.
"I'm sorry I woke you," Helena apologized, not explaining herself. Instead, she sniffed, wiped her eyes and swallowed hard, pushing the urge to weep away.
"It's okay, I was supposed to get up in a bit anyway," Hunnigan yawned against the top of Helena's head.
"I'm gonna go make breakfast, what are you in the mood for?" Helena asked and was already about to get up when Hunnigan tightened her grip on her.
" Staaaph," she groaned and gently pulled Helena back. "I don't even think we have anything good, we didn't go shopping yesterday."
"What, you're too good for plain oatmeal?" Helena teased.
"Yes, that is where I draw the line. I want exotic berries and expensive...goat yogurt or something," Hunnigan played along.
"I could go to the store, it opens at six, and I gotta walk Charlie anyway," Helena said, the Amstaff's ears perking up at the mention of his name and one of his favorite words, his tail beginning to sway from side to side giving away his excitement.
"Are you trying to run away before I bug you into telling me what's the matter?"
"Whaaat? No," Helena scoffed as she sat up, her tone of voice making it obvious that was exactly what was happening.
"Babe...come on," Hunnigan sighed in exasperation as she turned to lay on her back, her eyes still closed.
"You know, if anyone else called me that..."
"Sorry, I'll try to stop, I don't even know why I've started saying it, it just slips out."
"No, I don't want you to stop, I was gonna say I like it when you do it. I'm surprised by how much I like it, in fact," Helena corrected.
"Was it something else I said or did that's wrong?" Hunnigan asked, determined not to let this go.
"It was just a bad dream, nothing you should be worrying about," Helena assured quietly. Well, a bad dream apart from the very last moment before I woke, she added mentally.
"Okay...but if you want to talk about it...I want to hear it," Hunnigan said.
"I want you to go back to sleep while Charlie and I take a trip to the grocery store, and get some breakfast going," Helena said, leaned down and kissed Hunnigan's lips softly.
"I think I can manage that," Hunnigan smiled into the kiss.
Helena went through her usual morning routine, and got dressed in her running gear, deciding to go for a run while she was at it. She tied her hair back, put on her worn and torn baseball cap, and dressed Charlie in his vest that identified him as a service dog before heading out.
When she returned about an hour later, Hunnigan had left the bedroom, dashing Helena's plans of serving her breakfast in bed. Helena had to stop and stare for a moment, though. She'd known Hunnigan did yoga, but she'd never actually witnessed it before.
"Helloooo nurse!" Helena said, and Hunnigan chuckled.
"You know, I never showed you the cartoon that's from, did I?" she said as she switched positions, the generous view Helena'd had of her butt now gone.
"Hey, I know enough to use it right, that's all I need," Helena said, took off her shoes and jacket, and went to the kitchen to unpack the groceries, Charlie following her after a quick detour to nuzzle and sniff at Hunnigan to say hello. When she was done, she stood by the door and leaned into the frame, looking over to the living room.
"Are you just gonna stand there and stare the whole time?" Hunnigan asked.
"Probably."
"You're welcome to join me."
"You know I don't do yoga, I lift weights, how about you join me in doing that?" Helena teased.
"I could, I used to do it with Major all the time."
"Really?" Helena asked, and she could actually feel the expression on her face change from a smirk to surprise.
"Yeah, he used to go to the gym religiously. I guess he still does. I'd go with him a couple of times a week," Hunnigan said and sat down, placing the soles of her feet together.
"Why don't you ever come with me?"
"I don't know. I guess it never occurred to me. And, well, don't take this the wrong way but you seem like the type of a person who prefers to workout alone."
"Well...you're not wrong," Helena admitted. "But I will join you for some stretching," she then said and walked over.
"Sounds good," Hunnigan smiled.
"What time do you have to be at the office?" Helena asked, grabbing her toes and leaning forward.
"I'm not gonna go in until nine, so we've got a couple of hours."
"You know, we should start getting up earlier so we'd have more days like this when we have time to have a proper breakfast together."
"Speak for yourself, I'm already up at five most days," Hunnigan huffed with a grin.
"Well then you gotta start going to work later," Helena reasoned.
"Oh, yeah?" Hunnigan asked as they ended up facing each other, both leaning forward in their respective stretches.
"Oh, yeah," Helena confirmed with a nod.
"Hm," Hunnigan smiled, and quirked her eyebrow a little, and out of nowhere, Helena felt her heart skip a beat and swell as she looked at Hunnigan, feeling like she was falling in love with her all over again.
Hunnigan could be such a smartass, she could be a bit smug and a bit arrogant at times, but more than that, she was tall, dark, and gorgeous but didn't act like it, she was talented in more ways than Helena could keep track of, she was smart but not braggy about it, she called her mother once a week even though they famously didn't get along, and she was fucking funny. Simply put, she was the most incredible woman Helena had ever met.
And she's my wife! she thought, really needing to occasionally just remind herself of the fact because it seemed so alien to her that anyone would marry her, let alone someone like Hunnigan.
Unsure what came over her, but unable to stop herself, Helena moved forward, practically tackling Hunnigan onto the floor, the thick yoga mat underneath them not doing much to soften the impact on Helena's elbows as she landed on them, but she didn't care. Hunnigan didn't have a chance to question her before she kissed her hard, her hand cupping the side of Hunnigan's face as she wrapped her arms over Helena's shoulders, and her legs around her waist.
"Oh, God, I love you so much," Helena mumbled against Hunnigan's lips.
"I love you too," Hunnigan managed a response before Helena kissed her again, then trailed her lips to the side of Hunnigan's neck, and over to the clavicle easily accessible thanks to the semi-low cut neckline of the tanktop Hunnigan wore.
And now what? You're gonna disappoint her, Harper. You're useless, you can't even—God damn it all to hell, no, don't you fucking start, shut the hell up!
But the thought was already there, shutting everything down, replacing the pleasant warmth of the budding arousal with a cold and hollow sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"I'm..." Helena mumbled into the spot between Hunnigan's neck and shoulder.
You're what? What?! You're pathetic!
"Sorry," Helena muttered. "I'm so sorry," she repeated and moved back, sitting up.
"You don't need to apologize," Hunnigan said and sat up as well.
"I shouldn't have..." Helena shook her head and sighed.
You shouldn't start what you can't finish, you fucking tease.
"Everything's okay," Hunnigan said, taking Helena's hands into her own.
"I don't know why I did that, I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's probably just all my irresistible pheromones, I'm a little sweaty and we've already established you like it when I stink," Hunnigan jested.
"Yes, I am barely resisting the urge to stick my nose into your armpit and take a deep breath," Helena played along and Hunnigan chuckled.
"Jokes aside and for the record, you don't need a reason, I don't mind, you can do that any time you want," she smiled. "And by 'that' I mean the making out, not sticking your nose into my armpit," she then elaborated.
"It doesn't bother you that I don't...you know, finish it?" Helena frowned.
"This again?" Hunnigan sighed and stood up. "It seems to me you're disappointed every time I tell you I'm not bothered. Either that, or then you're the one who is bothered by this," she suggested and held out her hand.
"Huh," Helena breathed and took Hunnigan's hand, allowing herself to be pulled up. "You've given me a lot to think about."
"I just don't understand, why am I like this?" Helena asked, her hands on her hips as she paced back and forth in front of the comfortable chair she usually sat in. In front of it was a small coffee table, an elegant wooden tissue box cover placed on it, set slightly closer to the patient's side of the table than the doctor's, her seat across the other, a bit further from the coffee table.
"Actually, no, that's not the right question, I think we all know perfectly well why I am like this, I don't even know what I'm trying to figure out here," Helena scoffed, shaking her head.
"Well...what exactly is bothering you about what happened?" Doctor Wilkes asked, and Helena could tell from the look on her face that she really wanted to ask her to sit down. Sighing, Helena did that, letting her hands limply slap against the armrests of the chair as she slumped back.
"That I initiated it despite knowing I would not be able to follow through. It's unfair."
"But Hunnigan has told you she doesn't mind, right?"
"Yes, but it still bothers me, why would I do that?"
"I'd guess you did it because you wanted sex."
"Yeah but my whole thing is that I don't want sex," Helena scoffed.
"And it bothers you to realize that maybe you do?" Doctor Wilkes suggested and Helena opened her mouth to respond but realized only then she had nothing to say.
"Now, full disclosure, I am not a sex therapist, and as such I am not completely qualified to assist in matters regarding it, but I know some I can refer you to if"— Wilkes began to say, but Helena interrupted her.
"What, and start this whole shitshow again with another shrink? No thank you," she disagreed.
It had been difficult enough to manage establishing the relationship she had with Wilkes, and the only reason Helena was still here was because she actually liked Wilkes; she didn't want to start shopping for another psychiatrist, God only knew how long it might take to find someone she would feel even remotely comfortable with. Not to mention she had serious doubts the DSO health insurance covered sex therapy.
"So...my next question would be why does it bother you to realize that maybe you do want sex?"
"Wanting sex makes me feel like a hypocrite," Helena finally answered after taking a very long moment to think about it.
"Why?"
"Because I have spent such a long time actively hating sex and anything related to it, I'm generally disgusted by it, and frankly, I think a little less of people who go around and fuck strangers just because they feel like it. And now it's like I'm sinking to their level."
"Wanting to have sex with your wife is not what I would call the same as having casual sex with strangers," Doctor Wilkes pointed out slowly, and Helena sighed.
"Yes, I know, but you get my point."
"Have you always hated sex or is that something you began to feel only after being assaulted?"
Helena, again, almost answered immediately but stopped then when she realized she wasn't entirely sure. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't been a fan of sex or anything relating to it since she'd been old enough to understand it. Part of it came from Frances whose drunken lectures about the punishments God inflicted upon promiscuous girls had been unfortunately rather convincing; even if Helena had abandoned the strict Catholic rules Frances had raised her with, some of the things were not as easy to forget or let go of. She still wouldn't eat meat on Fridays during lent, and went to confession at least once a year, and she had no idea why she did those things, other than out of habit.
The other part of it stemmed from high school, because of course it did, was there anyone who had attended high school that hadn't been traumatized by something happening there? And of course, in Helena's case as in countless many others', the cause of trauma had been a group of mean girls and their mean boyfriends. Girls who had at first tried getting under her skin by calling her a lesbian, not realizing Helena wouldn't take it as an insult. Why would she, it was just a fact, she was a lesbian, and rather proud of it, frankly.
When that hadn't worked, they'd changed their tactic to the classic scheme of pretending to be friendly with her only to make her a laughing stock later. Only, their version of it had been to have someone pretend to be interested in Helena and string her along for shits and giggles, the whole sorry charade ending with someone ensuring Helena "accidentally" happened to walk by a car in which the girl she had begun developing feelings for was giving a handjob to her boyfriend.
"What a funny prank, huh? But that was high school, and I refuse to be lame enough to blame my problems on high school bullshit," Helena said, and Doctor Wilkes smiled.
"I'm more inclined to believe the source of your internalized shame is your grandmother's influence during your upbringing. Considering her religious fanaticism, I don't believe she reacted well to you being a lesbian."
"You can say that again," Helena chortled. "You know...sometimes I think she hoped I would get raped in the army. Everyone knows what the odds of that happening to women in the military are, I think she was counting on some soldier boy coming along to fix me with his dick."
"Sadly, corrective rape is rather commonly encouraged by homophobic parental figures," the doctor said ruefully.
"How fucking ironic is it that my rapist was a woman and I'm still a huge fuckin' dyke?" Helena laughed. She then put up her middle fingers and held them toward the ceiling.
"Suck it, Fran—no wait, what am I doing, wrong direction," she said and turned to give the floor the middle fingers. "Suck it, Frances!"
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh," Doctor Wilkes said, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth as she leaned back in her chair, silently chuckling.
"I'd rather you did, because I thought I was being very funny," Helena smiled.
"So..." Doctor Wilkes continued after a moment, "what I'm thinking is that you grew to hate the idea of having to have sex with a man because that was what you were being pressured into by Frances. And after what happened with Sergeant Good, and perhaps to some extent due to your trust being broken by the girl in high school, it became clear that women weren't as 'safe' either even though you're at least attracted to them."
"Well, yeah, I guess. That's another thing I hate, I hate how vulnerable sex makes you. I can't tell you how many times Deborah came home with bruises on her neck just because her boyfriend of the week had decided it would be 'erotic' to choke her during sex, and of course he didn't ask if she was okay with it. And at that point, what are you gonna do, politely ask him to stop? I told her to choke him back and ask him if he still felt it was erotic," Helena scoffed, bouncing her leg agitatedly before having to stand up and pace once more.
"I just, I hate everything about it, and now I'm mad at myself for apparently not being any better than all the other fucking cumbrains out there," she ranted.
"But why is it important to you to not want sex? You said it makes you feel like a hypocrite but unless you have launched a very public anti-sex-campaign, where would be the harm in changing your mind about it?" Doctor Wilkes asked.
"Because I feel that by hating it and abstaining from it, I'll somehow erase what was done to me. I know it's stupid and doesn't make any sense, but it's how I feel."
"It's not stupid, I can see some logic behind it," Doctor Wilkes said, and Helena glanced at her.
"Well? Tell me, because I have no idea."
"Your rapist told you that you were asking for the things she did to you, that you had wanted them. And now you find yourself wanting something that was used to hurt and humiliate you, but the way you've been conditioned to react to sex triggers your urge to fight it because you're expecting a negative experience. In a way, sex goes against your nature, so to speak."
"You got that right," Helena sighed and sat back down. "But why the hell now all of a sudden? I mean, it's not like I haven't wanted to...I've thought about it, but I've never actually done anything like what I did this morning, I don't understand why I did that. And it scares me because I lost control for a while there, and I didn't like that, that's never a good thing."
"Well, you did say you'd had a significant conversation with Hunnigan about things that required a lot of trust," Doctor Wilkes said, and Helena nodded.
She hadn't mentioned all the details of what they'd spoken of, mainly because she knew Wilkes was obligated to inform the authorities if she was made aware of crimes, and while it wasn't like Hunnigan had outright confessed to murder (as far as Helena knew), it went without saying the conversation had been confidential, and sharing the details with Wilkes wouldn't serve anyone. But she had mentioned they'd had a discussion which had made Helena feel closer to Hunnigan, and that was true.
"Yeah, I just learned that she's a very powerful woman. I mean, I always knew that, but now it's like...confirmed. I don't know. Oh, please don't tell me I've got some underlying weird kink about being dominated by a powerful woman because I don't think I can handle that, I think I'm fucked up enough as it is," Helena groaned, and Doctor Wilkes chuckled a little.
"No, no, I don't think it's a matter of dominance, I think it's about security. People in positions of power can also protect you; I don't think you're looking to feel dominated by her, you're looking to feel safe with her."
"...yeah, that tracks. Question is, so what?"
"Well, I think realizing she's someone you can trust and can feel safe with could be what triggered your unusual behavior earlier. That is what you were asking, isn't it?" Doctor Wilkes asked and Helena nodded slowly, then shrugged one shoulder.
"I guess. I still don't know what to do with it."
"I'd suggest starting by having a conversation about it with your wife."
When Helena got home, she had to stop and inhale the sweet scent of baked goods filling the apartment accompanied by the sound of Seeley laughing that high-pitched, half-shrieking laughter that children often did. After removing her jacket and shoes, and taking the leash off of Charlie, Helena went to see what was happening.
"Welcome to the Sugarcube Corner," Hunnigan smiled. Seeley stood next to her on a step ladder, very carefully mixing flour and other ingredients in a bowl, the countertops occupied by several other bowls that were empty, for now.
"A what now? What are you guys up to? And why is your mouth blue?" Helena inquired.
"We are making pony cookies!" Seeley informed her, and Helena wasn't sure she'd heard it right; the fact that she still had trouble understanding the boy's words a lot of the time didn't help. She was beginning to wonder if she ever would learn the Seeley-specific version of English his mother seemed fluent in. She figured it wouldn't matter, surely he'd grow out of talking like a baby soon enough. Would be hell of a weird thing if he didn't; Helena internally chuckled at the mental image of Seeley as a tall, broad-shouldered man who still spoke like a toddler.
"Josephine bought Seeley a baking book and some cookie cutters," Hunnigan began explaining, and the small eye roll she gave with her words silently let Helena know she wasn't entirely impressed with Josephine's timing, leading Helena to believe Hunnigan at least was convinced she'd done it just before it was Hunnigan's week with her son, making it so that it would be Hunnigan's kitchen that got messed up. "So, we're making pony-shaped cookies, but they need to be colorful so that's where food coloring comes in."
"Did you eat blue cookie dough, is that why your mouth is blue?" Helena questioned with a slightly disapproving tone.
"Don't be ridiculous, as if we'd eat raw cookie dough," Hunnigan denied with a smirk, the "I know something you don't"-kind of a giggle emanating from Seeley completely giving away the lie.
"Gimme some of that food coloring, don't wanna be the odd one out," Helena said and held out her tongue, and Hunnigan let a few drops of blue fall onto it.
"How do I look?" Helena asked after smacking her mouth a few times to spread the color.
"Like a million bucks," Hunnigan chuckled.
"Do you wanna help?" Seeley then asked.
"You know, too many cooks spoil the broth."
"There is no broth!" Seeley frowned. "What is broth?" he then asked his mother in a stage whisper, and Helena laughed softly.
"I just mean that I'll watch, you guys seem to know what you're doing, and it's kind of crowded in there," she said then. Seeley shrugged and went back to stirring the flour while Hunnigan grabbed the first batch of colorful cookies from the oven.
"Make yourself useful, put these to the side to cool," she said and Helena saluted her promptly before getting to work.
As she did that and glanced over to Seeley and Hunnigan chatting as they were working on the next batch of cookies, she felt herself become overwhelmed with a sense of calm warmth. It felt like...family. Safe. Comforting. Feelings and words she had never really expected to find herself feeling, having given up hope on being able to lead a life that had even some resemblance of normalcy.
Yet, here she was, with her wife and stepson, baking cookies like a regular person, the crushing realities of her past, of the darker side of Hunnigan and her actions, of all the things that went on behind the curtains at places like the DSO...faded away. They were temporarily silenced and erased, and for these few precious moments, life was good, calm, and happy.