Chapter Text
Helena sits at her cubicle, sorting through a screen full of meaningless numbers. She’s been promised that she’d begin recognizing patterns in time, though it doesn’t much matter to her. Refining is important, she knows, but her own quota comes second now to figuring out and ultimately controlling the severed population. Especially herself.
Which means while she pretends to do her work, she can focus on the three men around her. The three who successfully aided her own innie in breaking containment.
None of them have noticed any changes since she began daylighting as the rebellious Helly R. Thankfully, the oldest among them is consciously not even ten years old. Of course it isn’t difficult to trick them, naive as they are. Truly it’s a miracle they made it as far as they did with their little plan in the first place.
It’s almost sad, their persistent hope that they might be able to get one over on her family’s indomitable livelihood and legacy. Irving at least seems to have had his spirits crushed rather thoroughly enough to have lost hope on anything improving further for the innies. Fortunately, Dylan didn’t get anymore time in the outside world besides that of Milchick’s snafu. The desire is still there, but his confidence has clearly been shaken. He’s a smart guy who doesn’t seem willing to risk his unknown family’s safety more than strictly necessary. This will be a far more effective motivator for him than any perks the fools in higher management can concoct.
Mark, however, is a problem.
He succeeded, along with her own innie, in making direct and catastrophic contact with the outside world. He learned things about his outie’s life and family that have granted him a dangerous confidence. Helena poured through all the footage available of the three refiners, including every second her innie spent with them. There is a subtle but persistent change in Mark that requires curtailing. After all, he was almost as rebellious as Helly herself upon first arrival on the severance floor. With time and consistency, that rebellion was squarely quashed. It won’t be so easy this time. Luckily, Helena has found herself in ownership of an effective weapon.
Herself.
It was all too easy to convey subtle jealousy to Mark in regards to the ‘revelation’ of his outie’s wife. He took the bait readily, eager to assuage her worries and insist he never felt that way about ‘Ms. Casey’. To ask with a cautious Hope if she would stay there, ostensibly to be with him.
Mark - newfound confidence or not - is still very much like a child the way all innies are. And ‘Helly’ happens to be his favorite toy.
If she can keep him under that spell then there’s no way her role as plant will fail. Especially since her innie has been adequately scared straight. Mark is the one thing Helly has done that Helena is grateful for. Now all she has to do is maintain the act. Give him a reason to want to stay.
So when Mark lowers his barrier near the end of the workday and asks in a whisper if she’d like to join him for a mental health walk, Helena gives him her best secret, flirtatious smile and a, “Sure, boss.”
“Actually, I am the boss,” Irving clarifies, because nothing said in this room can be kept away from its only four occupants.
“Sorry, boss,” she replies sarcastically as she rises from her desk.
“Ew. You don’t want her calling you that. Next thing you know you’ll be kissing in claymation,” Dylan snarks.
“Can we please all promise to never bring that up again?” Mark pleads, not for the first time.
“No way.”
“Absolutely not.”
Helena smirks, amused by their antics, but follows Mark’s lead in ignoring them. They head into the hallway toward the new and improved break room.
“What’s on your mind?” Helena probes after a couple minutes. She may be new to this, but no one chooses to wander these hallways without a reason, certainly not for their mental health.
“Maybe I just wanted some fresh air.”
She shoots him a look that makes it clear she doesn’t buy it. “Ah, yes, it’s much fresher out here. Something about the fluorescents.”
Mark smiles and laughs lightly at her stupid joke.
He was too easy.
“C’mon,” she bumps him with her shoulder and he stumbles slightly.
“Um,” he starts, “We came back.”
“We did,” she acknowledges as they pass into the break room. She goes to the water cooler in the corner, pouring herself a small cone shaped paper cup.
“So, maybe we should. Talk about it. Right?”
Helena knows what he’s talking about, though she is surprised he’s broaching the topic so soon. She rewatched that portion of the tapes many times and while he was not an unwilling participant he clearly wasn’t the aggressor. Still, she isn’t going to make it too easy for him. This may even be fun.
“Talk about what?” She sips from her cup and watches him squirm across the room.
“You know,” he insists, voice dropping to a whisper, “You kissing me.”
Helena took a breath, “Well, I just figured with your wife and all-“
“She’s only kind of my…” Mark sighs, clearly still wrestling with that knowledge. “I don’t feel that way about Ms. Casey. Even if she is technically my wife.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Mark repeats. “So I don’t see that as an issue. And I have a right to my own feelings.”
It was pathetic, truly, the way this severed man tried to connect with a depth he would never be capable of. Discussing his silly little crush with such gravity, as if it could compare to a marriage in the real world. Helena may not have firsthand experience on the matter, but she knew plenty about loyalty in relationships. The complexity of knowing someone for decades, to the point where they knew you better than you even knew yourself. Whatever schoolboy infatuation Mark S. had with her innie was insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
“You taught me that,” Mark continues when Helena takes too long to answer. She can see him beginning to second guess himself, and she can’t have him feeling rejected.
So she takes a page out of Helly’s book. Haphazardly discarding her cup into the waste bin she strides forward and grabs Mark by the lapels - the same way she had on tape outside the elevator - and kisses him.
It’s nice. Nicer than she would have expected. Though it’s quite possible that’s just because it’s been too long since she was last kissed. But no, it can’t simply be that. Mark is actually good at this despite it for all intents and purposes being his second kiss ever. Unlike he did on tape, Mark melts into her, his hands holding her by the waist to keep her close. And it isn’t like any kiss Helena has experienced in the past. She’s an adult woman, there have been sporadic previous encounters, but she is first and foremost an Eagan. Relationships were superficial or casual and only with those who were considered respectable (read: boring and overly ambitious) prospects or those insignificant enough to be swept easily under the rug. Helena is not lacking general experience, but she is lacking in this particular experience.
It is tender, careful, even slow. Mark is both reverent and insistent in his touch, his hands at her waist firm yet respectful even as they tremble. His lips part hers gently, asking permission Helena readily grants. Her heart rate is increasing in a way that has nothing to do with putting on a convincing act, and when did she wrap her arms around his neck?
It’s far too easy for her to get lost in it all. Surely this technique of his must be sheer luck or simply muscle memory left over from a successful, happy marriage. It is also far more fun than staring at a screen full of numbers. Typically she wouldn’t allow herself to indulge, but this is going to be a key part of a successful plan. Maybe she can allow it, just for a little bit.
Mark makes a satisfied hum, deep in the back of his throat in a way that resonates where their lips are joined. It is enough of an interruption of their steady rhythm to bring Helena back to reality. She pulls back, panting lightly, and finds herself floored by the look he gives her. His eyes are pure adoration, a warm smile playing on his kiss swollen lips. Her breath catches. It’s intoxicating, this gaze that is focused solely on her and yet not really meant for her at all.
There is a pang of bitter jealousy in her chest combined with an excitement that teeters on panic. A flaring of the same ugly mix of frolic and dread that she first felt watching them kiss on tape.
“That was….” He trails off, awed.
Helly nods in agreement and manages a shy smile she hopes comes off as bashful instead of uncomfortable. “We should get back,” she says, partially because it’s true but mostly to escape Mark’s mind melting kisses.
“I guess,” he replies, noncommittal. He makes no move to release her - nor does she him - and leans in to press another kiss to her lips.
Helena sighs into it against her will but finds the strength to slide her hands down his chest, applying just enough pressure to push away. “I’m serious,” she insists with a conspiratorial grin, “We wouldn’t want to lose hall pass privileges, would we? Especially not now.”
“You’re right,” he concedes, regretfully dropping his hands and stepping back. “When did you become the responsible one? Maybe I should be the one calling you boss.”
If only he knew. Helena starts back towards the hallway, “I’m just looking out for our future opportunities. These walks are very important for our mental health.”
Mark follows her happily, trailing her as he tends to do - not unlike a puppy dog. He doesn’t try to initiate contact when he catches up, refrains from taking her hand or putting an arm round her shoulder and for that Helena is grateful. Somehow that would feel too intimate. She’s exhibited more displays of affection today than she has all year.
—
Helena can feel Mark’s eyes on her when she heads to the elevator at the end of the day. She can feel them even after she’s left, when she’s taken a different elevator all the way up to her real office on the top floor. She takes up her usual spot by the window and watches Mark’s outie leave the building and walk to his car.
It’s not a habit she’s proud of, but it also isn’t one she’s willing to break. Mark is the most important piece of the puzzle. Of every refiner down there, his case is crucial. So this is just reconnaissance. Nothing more. Merely the passion and commitment to the company required to be a success.
Still, she brings hesitant fingers to her lips, remembering. She wonders if he can feel her eyes on him, too.