The shower was wonderful. After such a rip-roaringly bad day at the office, Helen needed to be pummeled by 14 tons of water per second to wash the bad juju away. She'd decided to stop outwardly punishing Beverly Lincoln, which seemed to relieve her husband more than anyone else. But this Tim guy was just being an asshole about everything related to The Opposite of Us. It was actually very possible that her brilliant scheme would backfire and take her out with it. Then there were the falling ratings of one of their previously promising sitcoms. Sitcoms! Why did they even bother buying them anymore? She couldn't recall the last time she heard someone in line at Starbucks or sitting around a bar talk about a sitcom. Elliot and the board were breathing down her neck to yank the netowrk out of the hole Merc and Castor dug but without Carol as her number two, it was proving a bit more difficult than anticipated. It wasn't that Jason was incompetent as Head of Programming. He just wasn't as good. His take wasn't as fresh and his determination was lacking. He had no instincts for the job. He was a mini-Merc.

It had been a whole 4 days since getting back from San Diego and life wasn't any brighter. Helen wondered if the secret to the network's success had really been Carol's presence. What a joke that would be, especially on her.

Water pooled around her feet as she stepped onto the bathmat and reached for a towel. Then she saw them. Neatly arranged on her sink was a line of beauty products that did not belong to her. Snow-Kissed Berry started the line. For a moment, Helen feared that she was actually going crazy. She would have sworn she threw all that shit into the bag for Carol. But there all of it was again, mocking her in its cheapness. Pulling her towel tightly around herself and ignoring the dripping of her wet hair, she strode towards her bedroom.

And there Carol was, lounging on the bed pretending to read one of her mindless fashion magazines.

"What the fuck?" It was the only thing Helen could manage to say.

Carol looked up, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "Oh, hiya, Pubey."

She folded the magazine closed and placed it beside her carefully before swinging her legs off the bed. She reached for her keys on the nightstand, winking. That was when Helen remembered she had never demanded her fucking key back. It had been implied but obviously not explicitly enough. "I was having this super funny chat with Dexter—I think you've met—and I told him how I broke up with my girlfriend and needed some time out of the city and he said the funniest thing. He said, "Oh, that lady that was here with the bag?" And then things suddenly made perfect sense." Her tone was low, a striking difference from the soprano mouse squeak. For the first time, possibly ever, Carol Rance seemed somewhat dangerous. It was bewildering and surprising and sexy as fuck.

"It was nice of you to check my missed calls for me."

Then, also for the first time possibly ever, Helen Basch had the good grace to flush with shame. She chuckled uncomfortably and looked down at the water spots on the carpet. Carol stalked towards her and snatched at the towel, ripping it away from Helen. It was the spark that set off a blazing inferno. Suddenly Carol's face darkened and soured, her gaze was outright hostile. "Now, go outside! Walk down the fucking street with nothing on."

"What—"

"Go!" she screamed, her whole body looking as if it was vibrating at a high frequency, fists balled up and trembling. She may just explode. "See what it feels like!"

"I am so not going to do that. Are you insane?" She bent down to grab the towel but Carol's foot stomped down on it.

Carol let out a derisive laugh that sounded like a volcano erupted somewhere in her chest. A tiny little blonde volcano. "Am-Am I insane? Am I insane?! Asks the woman who did the exact same shit to me and then stalked me to my brother's house in an entirely different city! The only difference is I don't get to go into work and humiliate you in front of all your—your underlings." She pointed a finger at Helen's face threateningly. "You got off easy there. Oh yeah, I would if I could just so you know how fucking awful it is."

"Oh, come on, no one even noticed." Goosebumps broke out over her damp skin and she valiantly resisted the urge to shudder.

"No, no no no!" Squeezing her eyes closed, Carol frantically waved her hands around her ears and if trying to brush away the words. "You don't get to do that! You don't get to tell me I'm overreacting, that I don't have a reason to feel the way I do."

Helen raised her hands in surrender and backed up, glancing sideways at her t-shirt draped over the chair. She grabbed for it and pulled it over her head before Carol could say a word. As she turned, she caught a glimpse of the photo of Julia as a baby beside the bed. All she could think of was the photograph of Carol and her on Carol's night stand instead. Having her standing here, in her bedroom after everything that had happened was all she really needed to face the truth. There was no way she wanted her life to be absent of this annoying, unpredicatble little woman.

However, it was possible Carol had other ideas. She was fuming so hard it was possible smoke would start coming out of her ears any second but Helen had raised two children; she knew how this was played. Approaching gently, she reached out with two hands, cupping Carol's face tentatively.

There was fear reflecting back at her alongside the indignation and loathing. Helen brushed her fingers through the short hair, trying to soothe away the rage. "I'm sorry, Scrunch," she whispered, taking a huge gulp of her pride in the process. (It was really hard to swallow. It tasted unfamiliar and bitter.) "I was—am a huge asshole. I was scared too."

Carol's shoulders sagged and her lips formed a more relaxed pout, trembling slightly as her eyes were darting side to side. Helen wanted to kiss her, but she held back, dropping her hands to hold Carol's instead.

"And I lied also. I said Beverly could have you, that I don't want you," she said as she braved a bashful smile. "That wasn't true."

Carol's lips transformed from a shy smile into a half-hearted scowl as she stomped her feet in place. "Ugh. I wanted to stay mad at you and ruin your life too," she whined in a piercing squeal.

"Oh, sweetie, that is never going to happen." Then she tilted her head. "I may have already done that anyway."

Curiosity piqued, Carol couldn't resist. "Why? Oh no, what did you do?" It was the voice she used when Andy said something stupid.

"I may have made one teensy, tiny really terrible decision about Sean and Beverly's show." Her whole face scrunched up into a grimace and she rushed out the next admission. "I made Tim Wittick the showrunner."

"No! You didn't!"

"I did."

"Seriously? Wow, you really are an asshole." Carol chuckled. "Serves you right."

Helen had nothing to say to that. It was probably true. She sat down on the edge of the mattress with a sigh of resignation, shaking her head slowly. Carol perched herself next to her, fiddling with the soft material under her fingertips.

"So, what are you going to do?" She actually sounded concerned.

"We."

"No, huh—sorry, what?" There was no look of even remote understanding on her face.

"What are we going to do," Helen corrected, deliberately enunciating the 'we' portion.

"No, no, wh—Ha, no, I don't think so. I don't work at there anymore."

Helen shrugged easily as if it was no big deal. "You can. I sort of need you to come back to your job." She waited for the offer to sink in for a moment. "I know you're not working elsewhere."

Carol cocked her head to the side and pressed her lips together, considering the offer carefully. It didn't seem promising. "I don't know." She dragged out every vowel as she thought about her response. As a result, Helen softly placed her hand on Carol's thigh.

"I am prepared to beg." It was the only thing she had left.

"Y-you? Beg?" The idea seemed completely foreign. Helen Basch begging anybody for anything was like something from an ancient myth. "Beg me?" Three octaves higher than Carol's normal yelp was quite eardrum-piercing. A frown crept across her lips, not quite understanding the concept. It wasn't a foreign language. Okay, maybe it was. Helen had never used that sentence and Carol likely had never heard it so bluntly.

When they first started their relationship, Helen remembered having to give a lot of gentle, coaxing smiles to the awkward and edgy younger woman. They were meant to reassure and to guide because once she had been there too. Of course, she had been a lot younger at the time but all the same, she understood. (When exactly that understanding mutated into paranoid impatience and basically ripped apart their fragile bond, she couldn't quite be sure.) So, she tried it again. Yeah, she could pinpoint the exact moment Carol's resolve softened and she relaxed. "Anything you want, I'll do it."

Now that made Carol's eyes grow wide with wonder. "Anything?"

Helen confirmed it with a solemn nod. "Any. Thing."

"Ooh, wow. Okay. That's sure something." She grinned and then flinched. "A raise?"

"No," Helen began and at Carol's perplexed expression, she decided to cut her some slack. "Don't ask me. Tell me what you want. Be that woman that just yelled at me about how crazy I am."

The blonde straightened her shoulders and flicked her hair back as if preparing from some steering committee presentation. "Oh, all right then." A deep breath. "I want a raise. At least 50%."

"Done." Helen was pretty sure she had that power. If she didn't, she was certain she could convince Elliot to get the board to approve it. They all must be aware how integral Carol was to the network.

"And I want you to…" It was clear she was struggling to either express or to come up with any other demands. "Oh, wait, I want time to go hiking with Beverly and hang out and like, be friends with her—no crazy stuff from you. At work or outside work."

Helen pursed her lips in a smile. "Already understood. Go on."

"I want you to spend some time at my place too. I don't want to move in here. Like, ever maybe? But definitely not in the next few months unless…"

"Unless?" There was just the slightest ray of hope in Helen's eyes.

"Unless I don't know! Who knows. I thought this was about what I want?"

"Right, sure. Sorry."

"No taking out anything that happens with this," she declared, gesturing wildly between their bodies. "On me at work. You must be totally professional even if you hate me."

"Note taken. I'll try to get the lawyers to somehow work that into your new contract."

Carol narrowed her eyes at the suggestion. "Are you screwing with me?"

Shaking her head adamantly, Helen baulked. "Of course not. I'm dead serious. Some sort of clause that protects you from crazy boss vendettas. How's that?"

There was a good-natured shrug. "Works for me. And, just so you know, I'm not a processor. Like, I don't process my shit out loud a lot, especially with the people it's about. So, you need to get that. I'm not a talky-talker about relationshippy things. Right, so, don't expect that from me all the time. I just can't. I'm not saying I won't try, but like, don't be all 'Ahhhh' if sometimes I don't."

"You always should." Relationships rarely, if ever, worked without some semblance of proper communication.

"Uh, well, I won't. I know me," she said matter-of-factly. "That's what Beverly's for. I talk to her and she tells me what to do." Carol paused and winced again. "And then I don't usually do it."

Helen couldn't resist the opening. "What did she say about us exactly?" It could be the wrong thing to ask but she had to know and no better time than when they're both actually relaxed.

Carol dismissively waved the question off. "Well, you know, just that if our relationship had any chance of lasting I have to be honest and tell you how I feel about things, blah, blah, blah." She rolled her eyes as if the idea was ridiculous.

"Anything else?"

"She also said Pubey was a terrible pet name and I should never use it."

Considering the rather good advice and how much heartache it would have prevented, Helen cocked her head to the side. "Hmm, I think I'm starting to like Beverly a tiny bit more."

"Oh! Yay."

"Maybe you should listen to her once in a while." Except when she did—

"Except that time I did and you got mad at me and then blamed Beverly being in love with me."

"Oh, we're back to that?" Helen shook her head, resisting the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. "I'm sorry. That was a bad reaction. I wasn't thinking. I was just… jealous that you could seemingly talk to her about us with no issues but not talk to me about us. Okay? Can you drop it now?"

Carol snorted. "Talk about it, don't talk about it. Be honest, don't be honest."

This could go south really quickly and not in the way that Helen actually wanted. She pressed her bare thighs together just for good measure. Yep, she really would rather a different sort of going south was happening. "How about you just keep telling me what your demands are?"