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“You look different.” Mark starts, because if he doesn’t neither of them would say a word all evening.
She’d tried to look as Helly R. as possible, so the comment strikes her down in a way Mark probably doesn’t even notice. “Yeah. Probably. I am different.” She replies after a moment. “You look good.”
“Thank you. Yeah I- That’s what I should’ve said to you.” He stammers out, fingertips pushing his water glass around on the table.
“You don’t have to. I wouldn’t have expected you to.” She says awkwardly. She hadn’t meant to make him feel bad, but now the silence between them was back. “Do you want something to drink? I could get us some-“
“Oh, no. Water’s fine. I’m actually a recovering alcoholic.” He cuts her off, eyes flicking away from hers and onto the glass in front of him.
“Oh. Sorry.” She says sheepishly. “Wow. I guess we really don’t know each other.”
He finally meets her eyes again. “I guess not.”
-
It’s easy to believe you’re the centre of the universe when all that exists to you is four walls, four desks, four people. The scale of the world was unfathomable to them, simply incomprehensible. The moves they made, the actions they took, in their minds, were groundbreaking.
But in the end, the revolution came more or less without them. They had thought they were cutting deep, but they were only scratching at the surface. The day Lumon fell, they weren’t the first department to be evacuated. They weren’t even the second or third. They were just four names on a list of nearly three hundred. Escorted from their desks and sent up the elevator one by one.
There had been whispers in the queue, each department spinning a slightly different tale, but all with a few details in common. Lumon had fallen, non-severed upper management were all being arrested, and employees were being reintegrated.
“Do you think it’s true?” Helly had whispered to Mark in the queue, watching one by one as they were sent to the surface to be collected by the special forces on the other side. They hadn’t known that at the time of course, but now that they had access to all their memories they can piece it all together.
“No. Surely not.” Mark had said. “No more Lumon? Reintegrating all these people? That’s insane. This is some kind of drill.” No amount of denial could shake the sinking feeling though. With every tearful yet happy goodbye at the doors of the elevator, it became more apparent to them that this was really happening. By the time they were halfway to the elevator, they’d accepted their fate. Mostly.
“Do you think they’re reintegrating past employees?” Irv asked nervously.
“You’d think, right? If there’s some kind of new law against severance, they’ll get everyone.” Mark reassured him, knowing that he’s talking about Burt.
“I can’t believe I’m going to meet my kids.” Dylan said, finally letting the excitement get to him the closer they get to the front of the queue.
Mark thought about his sister and niece. He was excited about the idea of reintegration. Nervous, but definitely excited. He didn’t say that though, because Helly…
Helly was a wreck beside him.
She doesn’t let her body shake, she doesn’t make a sound. Dylan and Irv behind them would have no idea. But her hands are balled into fists at her sides, fingernails cutting into her palms, and there are tear tracks down her cheeks.
“It’ll be okay.” Mark whispered, his hand brushing the back of hers. She relaxed her fist and let him slide his palm against her, fingers intertwined.
“It won’t be.” She grimaced. “She’s a monster, I don’t wanna be her.”
The front of the queue grew ever nearer.
“Whatever happens, you’re still you. You’re still my… my friend.” He had told her.
She’d stopped them, planting her feet and gripping his hand tight, the gap between them and the people in front of them getting bigger and bigger as the queue got shorter and shorter.
“What’s happening?” Irv questioned.
“Move along please.” One of the officers ordered. But Helly wasn’t playing attention to them. Her eyes were locked onto Mark.
“You are-… you were the best thing to happen to me in here, you know.” She states.
“Helly, I-“ He started, but was cut off as she kissed him. He tried to grab for her, tried to kiss her back, but it was over almost as quickly as it had started.
“Have a good life, boss.” And then she was gone. Fleeing down the halls, officers chasing after her, but she was no stranger to that.
“Helly!” He called after her, as strong hands manipulated him onto the elevator. “Helly!” He tried again.
And then the next time he woke up, he was just Mark Scout.
-
“I tried to find you.” He says after another long awkward silence. There’s a little anger in his voice. “I don’t want you do think I just spent 6 months waiting around for you to call. I tried looking for you.”
“I didn’t think tha-“
“I thought that you’d try to find me.” He says, louder than before.
“I wanted to-“
“I thought you were dead.” He can’t look at her again. And Helly realises all that anger was never really anger.
“I was in the hospital.” She says quietly. “I couldn’t talk to anyone.”
“Was it… something to do with your reintegration?” He asks, suddenly ashamed of his outburst.
She shakes her head. “Come on boss, what do you think I did after I ran away?”
‘Boss’. She’s still Helly. She’s so not Helly, but she is. Mark can’t make sense of his own reintegration, let alone hers. But he does know her. Which is how he knows what she’s talking about right away. She doesn’t have to clarify to him that she’d tried to kill herself again.
“I’m sorry.” He says eventually. “Was it… bad? If you were in there for a long time.”
“No. No, not like that.” She pauses and tries to explain through her discomfort. “I won’t get into the details. I didn’t injure myself badly. They did the reintegration once I’d recovered. Then I tried again.”
“Helly-“ he starts softly, but she stops him.
“I’m doing a lot better now. Really.” She sniffles and gives him a half-hearted smile. “I just kinda hated myself for a bit.” There’s a pause. “Kind of like you hate me now.”
“I don’t hate you.” He says, brows furrowing.
“Which one do you see when you look at me?” She asks plainly.
It throws him off for a second. “What?” He asks, but he’s being purposefully dense.
“You’re all Mark S. to me.” She says. “And then when you’re not it’s… fine. But when you look at me, you just see Helena Eagan.”
“I guess I already grieved my Helly.” He doesn’t try to deny it.
‘My Helly’. It’s the most bittersweet thing she’s ever heard.
“Do I look like a ghost to you?” She huffs, and he smirks because that’s the most Helly she’s sounded all evening.
“You do look quite pale.” He teases.
“Well you would too if you spent 5 months in psychiatric facility.” She argues, but it sounds playful too. It feels easy, just for a moment. Then there’s the silence again. “Just yell at me already.”
“I don’t want to yell at you.” He argues feebly.
“Yeah, you do. I’m the bitch that told your friend she wasn’t a person. That kept her trapped in that place despite knowing she was miserable and suffering. I’m a fucking Eagan, Mark.” Her voice gets a little louder, and a couple of heads in the bar turn.
“How do you li-“ he stops himself when he realises what he’s saying.
“How do I live with it?” She finishes for him. “I didn’t want to.” She laughs, but he doesn’t laugh with her. “I’ve had a lot of therapy, I’ve… processed it. But you haven’t, so just get it out. Please. I can’t sit here like this with you anymore. Please, just yell at me.”
But he doesn’t yell. Because he’s still Mark S.
“Why did she- why did you do it?” He asks.
“You want the sob story?” She asks.
“There’s a sob story?” He sounds surprised. “I… kind of assumed it was a money and power thing.”
“I did it because I hated my life.” She answers, but Mark doesn’t look like he’s buying it. “The Eagans are crazy. They don’t make good parents. Especially when they don’t want a child, they want an heir. I spent years trying to be perfect and nothing was ever good enough.” She hesitates, like there are details she wants to skip, but she doesn’t. She owes Mark as much of the truth as she can stomach telling. “I’d dress how they wanted, wear my hair how they wanted, I’d starved myself to an acceptable size for them. I offered to sever myself, because there wasn’t a piece of me they hadn’t already taken.”
He nods slowly, eyes still on the glass of water in front of him. “What about when Helly- sorry what about when you wanted to quit. Threatened to cut your fingers off, tried to hang yourself?”
“I thought… god, I’m gonna sound like such a bitch. I thought I was ungrateful.” She admits. “Because the outie version of me thought the innie version of me was lucky. That innie me didn’t have to be an Eagan. I could have friends and… you. And then I hated me for trying to fuck up my perfect plan.”
Mark is still quiet, mulling it all over, but he at least can look in her eyes again. Then, to her surprise, he focuses on the detail she doesn’t expect him to. “Your outie thought you were lucky to have me.” The smirk spreads across his face.
“Yeah, well she’d only seen pictures of you, she didn’t know how annoying you were.” Helly says back. She’s conscious of the fact that he referred to her outie and her separately again, like he was seeing her more as Helly. She’s aware that it’s manipulative, but she plays into it anyway. “They showed her the CCTV footage of us kissing by the elevator. She was jealous.”
“Stop.” He says with a smile that spreads to his eyes.
“She was. She really was.” Helly laughs.
Mark’s smile falters, as he catches what she’s doing. “She as in you.”
“Yeah, she as in me.” Helly murmurs, smile gone too. As soon as the moment is broken, they both want it back.
“We could be them for a bit.” Mark says. “We could pretend…”
She’s shocked he’s suggested it, because she’d wanted to suggest it, but had thought better. She didn’t think he’d go for it. “Yes.” She agrees quickly. “So are we overtiming right now?”
“Oh, we don’t have to do the whole roleplay.” But then he thinks about it for a second. “Yes. Yes we are.”
“Alright.” She sits herself up straighter. “Three, two… should I make the woosh sound?” She questions.
“You heard it too!” He laughs. “Dylan and Irv always said I was making it up.”
“Okay. Three, two,” they lock eyes, and Helly catches a look in his eyes that is entirely Mark S. “one. Wooooosh.”
They both squeeze their eyes shut tightly and then open them again.
“Hey boss.” She says.
“Hey.” He replies. “So you just kissed me and ran off.”
“Yeah. I did do that, yeah.” She says, fiddling with her napkin.
“I’m gonna have to call HR soon, because you keep doing this.” He sighs.
“Do we even have an HR?” She laughs.
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s just Cobel.” He scrunches his nose up.
“Is it a problem that I keep kissing you.” She asks.
“It’s a problem that you keep running off before I can kiss you back.” He answers.
She hadn’t expected it to escalate to this quite so soon, though she’d be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t hope it was where it was headed. “Did you want to kiss me back?” She sounds like a school girl asking if he had a crush on her.
“Yeah. I did.” He looks down nervously and smiles with one side of his mouth like she remembers. “I still do.”
She gets up and comes round to his side of the booth, sitting close to him, their knees brushing under the table. “I won’t run this time.” She promises.
“Good.” He says, and even though he’s Mark Scout, that’s had a wife, had girlfriends, had one night stands, he plays the part of Mark S. well, a catch in his breath like this is his third kiss ever. Like he’s only ever kissed Helly.
She slides a hand up the front of his jumper and up round to the nape of his neck hesitantly, like she’s never touched anyone like that before. When they lean in to each other, it’s slowly, savouring the anticipation. “Kiss me.” She whispers.
The moment their lips brush she could’ve wept, so careful and delicate. One of his hands pushes her hair out of the way, brushes her cheek, but the other hand ends up on her knee. She pulls him in a little tighter, fingernails dragging softly against his skin, granting him permission, and his wandering hand starts its ascent up her leg. She’s the first to deepen the kiss, opening her mouth for him just slightly, letting him know what she needs. His fingertips are an inch from where her thigh stops being her thigh when he finally pulls back.
“I think my outie lives round here.” He whispers breathlessly. “If you wanna get out of here.”
“Yeah. Yeah I do.” She agrees. Kissing him once more briefly before she stands up. She offers him her hand and he takes it, linking her fingers together like they had in the queue for the elevator together.
She practically drags him out the bar with how quickly she moves, smile wide on her face the whole time. They step into the cold air and Mark jogs ahead to unlock his car, but Helly is still stood on the sidewalk. He turns to look at her, illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlight overhead.
“It’s snowing!” She says giddily.
Mark’s smile grows too, remembering the game. “Real snow.” He says, the awe in his voice sounding almost real.
She finally crosses the street to him. He reaches out to brush a couple of snowflakes out of her hair, but they’re quickly replaced by more. He pockets his keys and kisses her again, both hands cupping her cheeks to keep them warm against the crisp winter air.
He pulls back and looks at her again, lips still parted, eyes half closed. “I think I love snow.” He murmurs. Mark Scout hates snow. Hates driving in it, hates shovelling it, hates slipping on it. But Mark S. doesn’t have to worry about those things. Mark S. can just enjoy the way the flakes settle on Helly’s eyelashes and melt on the warmth of the blush on her cheeks.
He opens the passenger door for her and she climbs in, shucking her coat off and throwing in into the back seat while she waits for him. It’s cold, but her “outie” had worn this dress for a reason and she wanted to show that reason off. He gets in the car and puts the key in the ignition, but doesn’t turn it, eyes fixed on her instead.
“I’m sure if your outie knows how to drive you should be fine. It’s muscle memory.” She jokes, and he laughs and nods. He doesn’t start the car though. Instead he leans over the centre console and pulls her into another kiss, sloppier than the others, more desperate.
“Do the seats go back?” She asks, “You could have me right here.” That’s all Helly R., Helena Eagan could never be that reckless.
He swallows, pausing like he’s really considering it. “I don’t think it’s a long drive.” He answers, starting the car.
It isn’t a long drive, and Mark spends most of it stealing looks at Helly, legs parted just slightly for him in his passenger seat. He occasionally reaches over and touches her thigh, enjoying the way she has to stop laughing and joking as her breath catches in her throat. They can barely keep their hands off each other as they make their way up the steps to Mark’s apartment, and the second they’re through the door Helly is pushing Mark up against it, pushing his coat off his shoulders. He kicks off his shoes as they kiss, and he can tell when she does the same because she gets two inches shorter and he has to lean down further to reach her lips.
“Which way to the bedroom?” She asks, kissing up the side of his neck. He’s about to tell her when he remembers there are clothes on the bedroom floor that aren’t his. She must notice him tense up, because she stops kissing him. “Your outie’s bedroom, I mean.”
He lets out a little half laugh. “Yeah. Right. I have no idea, ‘cause this is my outie’s house.”
She steps back, taking both of his hands and dragging him towards the couch, “The couch will have to do then.”
Any reservations he has melt away again as she encourages him to take a seat, straddling his lap. The hem of her dress bunches up around her hips, her lacy black underwear just peaking out under the edge of the material, and his hands find her thighs again.
“I thought about you… like this. After the first time you kissed me.” He whispers unprompted as she pulls his jumper off over his head.
“You did?” She asks, sitting up and looking at him so she can listen properly. Her hands creep under the edge of his T-shirt as he talks, just brushing the skin of his stomach.
“There was a moment where I just wanted to follow you into the elevator. That was the first time I’d ever felt something like that.” He says, trying to keep his train of thought as she unbuttons his pants. Her fingers hesitate for a second. ‘First time I’d felt something like that.’ Was that Mark S. or Mark Scout? Is this still part of the game? She ignores the pang in her chest and unzips his fly.
“I’d thought of it before then.” She admits with a smirk.
“Wait really?” He says with a breathy laugh.
“After our mental health walk, Dylan asked if ‘baby goats’ was code for us having sex.” She explains. She pulls her dress off over her head and Mark’s hands travel up all the newly exposed skin. “It crossed my mind the next time I asked you if we could go on a walk.” She reaches round her back to undo her bra. “Who knows, if we didn’t bring Irv and Dylan on that last walk, anything could’ve happened.” Her bra is discarded.
He’s just about make a joke about sneaking her away to the perpetuity wing and doing her in the replica house, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. She can feel it too, her knee pressed snug against his hip. Both their smiles falter and they look towards the source of the sound.
“Sorry, I’ll just…” he reaches into his pocket to stop the ringing, Helly just getting a glimpse of the calling screen.
“Who’s Alexa?” She asks quietly, arms creeping up around her chest to cover herself up. Mark declines the call. He swallows. When he looks at her, it’s a face she doesn’t recognise for a second.
“Probably someone my outie knows.” He answers, throwing his phone onto his jumper on the floor. His face looks like Mark S. again. She bites the inside of her cheek as she thinks, before deciding that, with the mountain of guilt she already has, she can handle a little more.
“Sounds like that’s your outie’s problem.” She says. If it’s okay with him, it’s okay with her.
He expresses his agreement by taking her chin with his thumb and index finger and kissing her slowly. It’s the kind of kiss that makes her want to cry again. Too gentle. Too kind. She bites down on his lip.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” She mutters against his lips, pushing at the hem of his t-shirt.
“You’re right.” He says, shifting them so she’s lying back on the couch with him knelt between her legs. He pulls his t-shirt up and over his head, and pushes his jeans to just below his hips before he stops. “I don’t have- I don’t think my outie has any condoms.”
“I think my outie’s on birth control.” She reassures him, but there’s still a hint of doubt on his face. “We wouldn’t have had any in the elevator either. Or in the perpetuity wing.”
“There actually are some in the replica house.” He laughs. ‘Are’ not ‘were’. Like they’re still there.
“Ew, gross, yeah I forgot about the waffle parties.” She chuckles with him. The doubt is slipping. “Fuck me like you wanted to in the elevator.”
It’s all the convincing he needs, shedding the rest of his clothes and relieving her of what little remains of hers. They’ve both done this dance before with other people, but they fumble around in the dark like it’s the first time they’ve been touched. He’s gentle and slow with her, and she holds him like it’s prom night. She tightens her legs around him and cries out his name like it’s the only one she’s ever had on her tongue, and he spills into her moaning hers back.
They stay like that for as long as possible, a tangled mess of sweaty limbs littering his couch. He kisses her shoulder and she touches his hair.
“I always liked your hair.” She whispers. “I’m glad you didn’t change too much.”
He sighs and nuzzles into her skin. He doesn’t want the game to be over yet. “I always liked yours too. First time I’d seen red hair.” He lifts his head up so he can look at her, gently brushing her bangs off her forehead from where they’re stuck with sweat. “It was the first thing I noticed when I saw you on the table.”
“I wish I could say I had such a nice first impression of you.” She teases.
He chuckles, “You hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you!” He just laughs more. “Okay, I did a little bit.”
“When did you stop hating me.” He questions, running his fingers up and down her arms.
“I think… when you got upset about Petey during the introduction game. That made you feel more real to me. Then you got sent to the break room, that made me feel a little guilty. But I think I properly stopped hating you when you stopped me swallowing the pen cap.” She says, tilting her head so she can look at him. “I realised you were as trapped as I was.”
“Keep going, say more nice things.” He says and she laughs. He can feel the noise vibrating through her and into him where their chests are pressed together.
“You saved my life.” She says simply. “It was nice seeing you when I first woke back up. Although, you gave me the weirdest look, I thought your eyes were going to pop out your head.”
“Ha, yeah, they uh told me to make my eyes kind.” He clarifies. “I had no idea what I was doing.”
“That was obvious.” She states. “You were kind though. That was the kindest anyone had ever been to me. In my whole life.”
She says it and he knows she’s not just talking about Helly R.’s life.
There was no more talking after that. They both know that more talking will only lead to tears. They lie there savouring the warmth of each other for a minute more, and then Helly whispers gently, “Come on. You should get me back to the bar before my outie wakes up.” It’s said with humour but Mark can’t bring himself to laugh. He just nods and lifts himself off of her. She misses the pressure of him laying over her the second he’s gone.
They stop three separate times while getting dressed to kiss each other, twice ending up back on the couch. But eventually they make it back to his car.
She reaches into the back seat to grab her coat and it takes everything in him not to pull her into his lap in the drivers seat. “You don’t have to go.” He says.
On cue, his phone rings again, and he curses under his breath as he declines it once more. “I think I should.” She whispers, reaching over and taking his hand. “Kiss me again?” She asks.
“In case we don’t come back?” He says with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes.
“Something like that.”
They lean in, foreheads pressed together lightly. And then he kisses her.
He should count himself lucky. Not many people get three last kisses with the same person. But he doesn’t feel lucky. And deep in his bones he knows it doesn’t feel like a last kiss. She pulls back first, only because if she doesn’t do it now she won’t be able to at all.
“I guess we’re reintegrating again then.” He jokes. His fingers don’t want to let go of hers.
“Three…” she starts, but her voice starts to wobble. “Two…” The first tear falls. “One.” She drops his hand.
“Woosh.” Mark says, and the laugh breaks out of Helly like a firework. “It was really good to see you, Helly.”
“Yeah. It was good to see you too.” She says, trying to silently sniffle away a couple of tears.
“You could stay.” He tries one more time.
“Goodbye, Mark.” She reaches for the door handle and stops, turning back to look at him again. “I’m not just Helly R. anymore.”
“I know.” He says.
“You don’t want me. You want her.” Helly explains.
He can’t formulate a response. He can’t tell her she’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to admit that she’s right either. The car door clicks open and she steps out. She’s almost gone when he speaks again, her hand moments away from closing the door. “Helly?”
“Yeah?” She says with a sad smile.
“What was the deal with the goats?” He asks. “Come on, you’ve got insider knowledge now, you must know, right?”
She pauses, then begins to slowly close the door. “Ask me again next time.” She smiles a smile that only he would recognise and the door closes.
He places both hands on the wheel and lets out a shaky breath, ‘Next time’ playing on repeat in his head. He bangs his head back on the head rest a couple of times.
His phone buzzes again, and he grabs it from his coat pocket and launches it into the back seat. He lets go of the wheel and drags his hands down his face. The night air must’ve warmed slightly, because the snow had become rain, big heavy drops that hit his windscreen in a steady rhythm around him. He reaches for the door handle once, twice, three times before he finally stops hesitating and steps out into the rain.
“Helly!” He calls out into the quiet night air. No reply. He crosses back over the street, looking for any sign of life, checking the windows of cars for a flash of red hair. He storms back into the bar, looking around frantically, drawing the attention of the few people still left in there. The booth they were sat at is empty, his glass still mostly full, untouched.
The wind and rain batter his body as he walks back to his car, his wet hair hanging over his face and dripping onto his nose. He tries taking a deep breath to calm himself, but he can still smell her perfume, taunting him.
“It’s over.” He says to himself, biting back tears. His hands grip the wheel, white knuckles squeezing the life out of the leather in an attempt to ground himself. “It’s over.” He says louder, but the tears still sting at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck.” He whispers, starting the engine and driving off, the radio blaring to life next to him.
‘-slept so soft against her. It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter. It's never over, she is the tear that hangs inside my soul-‘
“Fuck!” He yells. Slamming on the breaks and shutting the radio off.
He takes a deep breath.
He keeps driving away.