Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I mean, what if the goats are the numbers? Like, we’re deciding which goats live and which ones…oh, God.”

Helly doesn’t know why the thought distresses her so much. She just met these goats. The cute little baby goats who stumbled around and jumped with joy and looked so soft that it was all she could do to not pick one up and take it back to MDR. She shouldn’t care so much about something that she just met, and yet she can’t help herself. Like caring for things is a part of her nature that she was simply born with.

“I doubt it’s that,” says Mark, his voice soft and gentle.

Helly chances a glance at him. Mark looks just as concerned as she feels, even as he tries to soothe her with words. He’s nice like that, in a weird way.

She hadn’t expected to laugh so hard at his joke about the happy numbers earlier. She hadn’t expected him to make a joke, period. She liked that they had a similar sense of humor, even if he tried to hide it under his Lumon bullshit. It made her feel a little less insane.

“Look,” he says, stopping their walk and looking right at her. “I know you don’t wanna be here. But…I’m glad you are.”

Helly blinks, a little stunned at his words.

“And I’m sorry this is the best I can do right now,” says Mark, his eyes full of sincerity.

The earnestness of it almost knocks Helly off her feet. She feels something soften in her chest, like a chink in her armor. It startles her, unmoors her, and she quickly feels the need to change the subject.

“If you give me the map, I’ll clean it up,” she says. She feels strange as he smiles at her, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her. “Your drawing is shit.”

They look at each other for what feels like a long time before the sound of footsteps startle them apart. Ms. Casey walks by, clutching far too many notebooks.

“Oh. Hi Ms. Casey,” says Mark quickly. “We were just heading back from our mental health walk.”

He says it more like a question than a statement, but Ms. Casey does not seem to notice.

“You’re both unhurt?” she asks, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“We are,” says Helly, nodding her head. She gives Mark a look out of the corner of her eye, just catching that he was just doing the same to her.

They let Ms. Casey lead them back to MDR, and Helly can’t help but feel a little lighter as she walks.

Things get a little better. Not much. It’s still Lumon. It’s still living a life where Helly never leaves work and never gets to see the sun. But she isn’t spending all her time imagining ways to escape and ways to end her life.

Instead, she’s spending her time talking to Irving. Talking to Dylan. Talking to Mark.

Suddenly, there are times of the day that she looks forward to. Like when she walks out of the elevator in the morning and finds Mark brewing a fresh pot of coffee, pouring her a cup, creamed and sweetened just how she likes it. Or late in the afternoon when Dylan teaches her new things to break up the day, such as how to make a paper airplane or a paper football. Or the times that Irv takes her around to look at his favorite art hanging around the building. She isn’t that impressed with the art itself, but she likes talking to him. Or lunchtime, when the four of them sit down together and eat and chat about anything and everything.

But the time she looks forward to the most is when she and Mark go on mental health walks. She tells herself that it’s nice to know she’s getting out of MDR, even for a little while. Nice to stretch her legs and explore new hallways and rooms. Nice to see Mark smile at her.

What do you want? In here? he had asked her. All she wanted then was to hurt her outie. Now she isn’t so sure.

A few weeks after her suicide attempt, after her neck bruises have mostly disappeared, Mark walks into MDR halfway through the day with a grin on his face.

“Uh oh,” Dylan says, leaning over to Helly as Mark walks into the bathroom. “Trouble’s brewing.”

“Why?” asks Helly, looking over at Dylan from across her desk.

“Anytime Mark comes back from a meeting with Cobel grinning, it can only mean one thing.”

Helly takes a moment to take Mark in, noticing how he looks much more excited than he usually does. She doesn’t mind it. If anything, the grin on his face is kinda cu—

“Team building exercise,” groans Dylan. “Otherwise known as the dumbest activities known to man.”

“Now, Dylan,” scolds Irv as he comes back to the desks with a cup of coffee in his hand. “There is no need to discourage Helly like that before she’s even experienced one.”

“Oh right, like you’re so eager to go do another egg drop challenge,” shoots back Dylan. “Last time I ended up absolutely covered in yolk.”

Helly can’t help but grin as Dylan and Irv continue to argue. She’s so caught up in their heated conversation that she almost jumps a foot out of her chair when Mark lays his hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, quickly pulling his hand away. Helly clears her throat and tries to brush off the fact that she can still feel where his hand touched her.

“You just startled me a little,” says Helly, spinning her chair around to face him. “It was getting so boring around here that I was simply enraptured by Dylan and Irv’s argument.”

Mark looks up and observes his friends, still bickering, before smiling down at Helly again. The flutter in her stomach returns, and she wonders if she’s hungry earlier than usual.

“Well, you’re in luck because I got our team a special treat today,” says Mark, pulling his chair to sit next to her.

“Don’t tell me. The egg drop challenge?” asks Helly, giving Mark a smirk.

“I promise that this will be better than the egg drop challenge,” says Mark, shooting her a small smile.

Helly scoffs but doesn’t complain when Mark tells them all to follow him to the team building space. She walks next to Mark and simply smiles as Dylan goes on about the aerodynamics of eggs.

“Woah,” says Helly as they walk into the team building space. The room is enormous, the walls still stark white but higher up than any room Helly has ever seen. There’s a large closet that Dylan says houses all the equipment. There’s also what Helly can only describe as an obstacle course made of ropes hanging high in the air. She gathers that it’s a new addition based on the audible gasps from Irv and Dylan.

“Welcome, MDR.”

Mr. Milchick stands near one of the obstacles, a rope woven to look like a large web. The group walk over to him, looking up at the imposing web. Helly looks back down at Milchick, trying to not be unnerved by his cold smile.

“So where are the eggs?” asks Dylan. “We chucking them through the holes in that web?”

Milchick gives them a chuckle that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not at all, Dylan G. Lumon has recently installed this ropes course, as a new incentive for you and your fellow innies. Considering how well MDR has been doing on their numbers lately, I figured that you all would be the first to try it out.”

Helly looks over at Mark, who is grinning at her. Helly knows that this is just more Lumon bullshit to keep them all in line, but seeing Mark’s excitement over something so new is kinda sweet.

“For this obstacle, you must help each other through the holes in the web without touching the ropes. Each of you can only go through one opening. Once the opening is used it is then off limits, and if you touch the rope while doing so, that hole becomes off limits as well,” says Milchick, taking a few steps back. “I have to return to my duties, but I’ll be back in a bit to see how you’re coming along.”

After he exits the space, Helly looks up at the web. It’s stupid, but it beats refining numbers.

“I’ll go first, through this lower opening,” says Mark. “Then I can help whoever comes next.”

It’s a very Mark thing to do, Helly thinks. Always putting himself forward to help other people. She watches as he contorts his body so he can squeeze through the low opening, careful not to touch the rope. She gives him a little round of applause when he manages to get through, causing his face to flush.

“Alright,” says Dylan, examining the rope. “How about we lift Helly up to that opening up there? She’s small and light enough that it should be easy.”

“How about we don’t lift Helly up at all,” says Helly, suddenly feeling a little queasy as she looks up at the opening they want to put her through. It looks much higher up from this angle.

“Hey guys, she doesn’t have to—” starts Mark before Dylan interrupts him.

“Come on, I’m the strongest guy here. I’ll make sure Irv doesn’t drop you.” Dylan picks Helly up by her underarms as Irv grabs her ankles, causing Helly to let out a squeak. Mark quickly positions himself on the other side, ready to receive her.

“Excuse me Dylan, but I am the tallest here, and I have a sizable wingspan. You’d be the one more likely to drop her due to your inadequate height,” says Irv as they lift Helly up over their heads.

Helly tries not to vomit as they attempt to fenagle her through the opening without touching the rope, a buzzing in her ears drowning out Irv and Dylan’s argument. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, worried that looking around will cause her nerves to go into overdrive. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Mark, his hands up, ready to catch her. The sight of him makes her feel a little better.

She just keeps breathing as she is almost through the opening, when Dylan, underestimating his height, loses his grip on her, his hand slipping. Irv tries to compensate, but he doesn’t manage to get a good grip on her before she slides out of his hands and through the hole of the web.

Helly shrieks as she falls through the air, her stomach now in her mouth, bracing herself for the hard floor. But it never comes. Instead, Mark reaches out and grabs her, pulling her tight to him as he topples over backwards, protecting her from the impact of the fall.

“Oooft,” says Mark as they land in a pile on the floor, clutching Helly close to him. Mark lays on his back as Helly places a hand on his chest, trying to push herself up without hurting him. Dylan and Irv begin to argue over whose fault it was that Helly was dropped.

“Are you okay?” asks Helly. Her face is very close to Mark’s, and she can feel the movement of his chest going up and down as he catches his breath. When he finally opens his eyes to look at her, Helly feels the flutter in her stomach again. She’s never noticed just how light brown his eyes are, or how long his eyelashes are, or the particular shape of his nose, or how soft his lips—

“I think I might have bruised my tailbone, but I’ll survive,” responds Mark, lifting up his head to look at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” says Helly, softly. “I’m great.”

Helly can feel his hands where he’s touching her, almost like they’re burning through her shirt. His face is closer to hers than it has ever been, and Helly swears it’s getting closer. One of his hands rests on her arm, his thumb gently stroking her. It’s becoming very distracting. She doesn’t know if she wants him to stop.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” asks Dylan.

“I am so very sorry, Helly,” says Irv.

Their voices feel like cold water splashed over Helly, who quickly rolls off of Mark and lands on all fours next to him. She helps Mark up, looping her arm under his shoulders, until both of them are properly standing again.

“Thanks,” says Mark, brushing the dust off of his suit.

“No problem,” says Helly, reminding herself to unhook her arms from him. After giving each other little smiles, they continue the activity, determined to help Irv and Dylan through.

“You’re getting good at that,” says Helly as they walk down the hallways during their mental health walk.

“At what?” asks Mark.

“Saving my life.”

Helly shoots a grin at him when she says this, but Mark isn’t smiling. Instead, she sees his face go a little pale as he looks down at the floor.

“I mean, who knows what would have happened if I had hit the floor. Might have broken my arm or my leg. Might have been worth it, though, to piss my outie off.”

She’s trying to get him to smile, trying to get him to laugh, trying to get him to realize just how insane their lives are, but all he does is grimace.

“Well…glad to help,” says Mark, tucking his hands in his pockets, his eyes still pointed at the floor. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Helly opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She can’t think of anything funny to say, can’t think of anything snarky. All she can do is feel a warmth bloom in her chest.

“Same,” she says softly, nudging her shoulder against his as they walk. That gets him to smile.

They continue to walk aimlessly, just enjoying each other’s company, when an overwhelming urge makes its way up Helly’s body. Her hands twitch and she can feel a stuttering in her chest as she glances at Mark.

“Um, listen,” she says, stopping in her tracks. Mark stops next to her, finally looking her in the eye. Her hands twitch again and she feels a wild energy roll through her body, like the jitters she gets when she drinks too much coffee.

“Yeah?” asks Mark.

“I…uh…”

She can’t get the words out, so she’ll just have to show him instead. Taking a deep breath, Helly steps into Mark’s personal space and wraps her arms around him in a hug.

Mark freezes in her arms, just for a second, before she feels his arms wrap around her middle and pull her closer. Helly sighs as she relaxes in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Mark’s hands splay over her lower back and shoulder blades, where can feel every finger pressed through the fabric of her sweater. Helly has never been hugged before, has never hugged anyone before, but she can tell deep down that this hug is a good one.

“Thank you,” she whispers into his shoulder.

“For what?” asks Mark. His hand is slowly trailing up and down her lower back.

“Just…just for being there to catch me when I fall,” says Helly, squeezing him a little bit tighter.

She can hear Mark swallow as he pulls her just a little bit closer to him. “Of course. Anytime.”

They stand there like that for a few more moments, just absorbing the feeling of holding each other, before they slowly let themselves unlatch. Clearing his throat, Mark jerks his head to the right, smiling at her as they continue their walk.

He really does have such a nice smile, thinks Helly as they make their way back to MDR.

The next few days go as normal. Numbers are refined. Coffee is drunk. Cold Lumon lunches are eaten. Mark and Helly continue to go on their walks, though they don’t hug again. She tells herself that it’s normal to not hug, that friends don’t spend every day just hugging each other.

It startles her when she realizes that she’s begun to refer to Mark in her head as a friend.

She rolls the word around in her mouth as she walks from the elevator to MDR. Friend. It feels nice to refer to Mark as such. He’s her boss and her friend and there’s nothing weird about that. She would call Irv and Dylan her friends as well, if she gave it more thought. She never had a friend before, and now she has three. It’s nice.

“Morning boss,” she says as she enters MDR and walks to the kitchen. Mark’s already in there preparing the coffee, his back turned to her.

“Morning,” he responds, turning to hand her the mug he’s prepared for her. Helly, however, freezes when she sees him, her arm halfway outstretched to receive his gift.

“Everything okay?” asks Mark, gently nudging the coffee into her hand.

“Um, it’s…I…” splutters Helly, finally taking the mug from him. “It’s your hair.”

His hair is shorter, clearly cut by his outie. The sides have been trimmed and the top of his hair swooped to the side instead of just covering his head like a helmet. Mark’s eyes go wide as he sets his coffee down and feels his head.

“Holy shit,” he says, quickly jogging over to the bathroom. Helly sets her coffee down and follows him, entering the bathroom to see Mark examining himself in the mirror.

“Wow,” says Mark softly, turning from side to side to get a better look at himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten an actual haircut before.”

Helly had quickly gotten used to the changes in her hair each day, sometimes curly, sometimes straight. Mark, however, has had the same hair since the day she met him. It’s thrown her completely off balance to see him looking so changed.

“It’s nice,” says Helly, leaning against the sinks. “Very different.”

“Different?” responds Mark, turning to look at her.

Handsome is the word that comes to her, but it feels wrong to say that, as if Mark wasn’t handsome befo—

“You think it looks bad?” asks Mark, genuine worry in his voice as he slides his hands through his hair.

“No, no,” says Helly quickly. “Different isn’t bad. It’s just…different.” She takes a moment to take in his new appearance, a smile forming on her lips. “I like it.”

Mark turns to look at her again, his worry turning to relief. He smiles at her, and she feels that fluttering in her stomach again.

“Well, your hair always looks nice, so I’ll take your word for it,” says Mark, grinning at her as he walks past her to leave, giving her a little squeeze on her arm as he passes. Helly bites her lip and follows him, trying not to think about where he touched her, and how she can still feel it even as she refines.

Over the next few days, more things like the haircut keep happening to Mark. He starts coming in with nicer suits, ones actually tailored to his body and not hanging off him. Helly can’t help but notice how much nicer he looks, especially when he takes his jacket off and rolls up his sleeves. She’s spent a little too long looking at his forearms.

“Maybe your outie is courting someone after work,” says Dylan. “They have to spiff themselves up so that they look good.”

“I doubt it’s that,” says Helly, an uncomfortable jitter in her stomach at Dylan’s suggestion. When she looks up and sees all three men staring at her, she realizes she accidentally said her thought out loud. “Oh, I mean…”

“I’m not that hideous, am I?” asks Mark, clearly trying to joke around with her, but Helly swears she can see some hurt in his eyes.

“No, not at all,” she says quickly. “You look really nice. Maybe your outie is just dressing better for himself. Maybe he got a makeover.”

She doesn’t know why she doesn’t like the idea of Mark leaving work to go on a date. All she knows is that it gives her a stomachache.

“I think Mark here would be an excellent catch for a young lady,” says Irv, the only one currently refining. “That is, if your outie has a similar personality to you.”

“You think we could really be that different upstairs?” asks Dylan, sitting down in his chair.

“Yes,” says Helly, thinking about the video her outie sent. I am a person. You are not.

Mark though…it’s hard for Helly to see Mark as different than how he is down here. How he’s attentive and kind and always ready to help a friend. She feels like those qualities have to be innate.

“Well, we all know that my outie absolutely cleans up on the outside,” says Dylan, giving his arms a flex. “I’m sure the MILFs are devastated for the eight hours that I’m here.”

Helly snorts as Irv starts scolding Dylan for inappropriate workplace conversation. She sits down at her desk and highlights some scary numbers before binning them.

“What about your outie?”

Helly looks up from her monitor to see Mark looking at her, a strange look on his face.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Do you think your outie is going on dates?” asks Mark. He keeps looking at the floor and then looking at her, as if it’s too much to stare at her face for too long.

Helly swallows and tells herself that this is just a normal thing that friends ask each other. She notices that Dylan’s head has swerved to look at Mark, a smirk on his face.

“No, I don’t think so,” she says, returning her gaze to her computer screen. “Who would want to go out with someone like that?”

When she glances at Mark, she expects him to say something snarky or teasing in return, but all he does is give her a look that almost looks like longing.

Life continues on the severed floor. The four of them refine. She and Dylan play rounds of paper football. Irv takes her to see more art, though she’s starting to suspect it’s less to show her around and more to see Burt. She and Mark go on walks that seem to linger longer and longer these days. She doesn’t mind though. She laughs a lot more when she’s walking with him, and it turns out that she likes laughing.

One day she steps out of the elevator, and she can feel something shift in the air. She isn’t alone when she walks out. Mark is standing by the elevator, fiddling with his watch, so close to the doors that she almost walks into him.

“Oh! Hey,” she says, startled to see him but not in a bad way. The fluttering in her stomach now occurs in her chest.

“Oh, uh, hey,” says Mark, also looking a bit startled.

“You’re usually not here when I step off,” says Helly, crossing her arms.

“I, uh, got distracted. I think my watch needs a new battery.”

Helly looks down at his wrist, and before she can think too much about it, she gently grabs his hand and pulls it up to the side of her face, letting his wrist rest next to her ear. She can hear the strong ticking of his watch, and she swears she also heard his breath hitch when she touched him.

“I think you fixed it. Sounds good to me.”

Mark nods at her and smiles, but Helly doesn’t drop his arm. The rhythmic tick tick tick is almost soothing, but more than that, there’s a new scent coming off of Mark. Something spicy and woodsy that makes a strange electricity shoot down into her stomach.

“Can I have my arm back?” asks Mark softly, though he makes no movement to take it away from her. Standing this close to him is making her brain fog up, and she suddenly notices the flecks of amber in his eyes.

“Mark.”

The voice is cold and sharp and instantly throws what feels like ice water over Helly. She drops his arm as both of them jump back and turn to see Ms. Cobel staring at them. Helly suddenly feels very exposed.

“Do you make it a habit of distracting your employees?” Cobel asks, her voice low and dangerous.

Helly opens her mouth to defend him, but Mark manages to speak first.

“Helly was just helping me with my watch. It’s fixed now, so we’ll just head back to MDR.”

She can sense how rigid he is beside her, and there’s nothing Helly wants more than to place a comforting hand on him. She forces herself not to. Cobel simply stares at them, not letting anything show in her face.

“Make sure you do,” she says before turning to return to her office. Helly and Mark just stand there till Cobel is out of sight, both of them letting out a breath as the older woman turns a corner.

“Come on,” says Mark, placing his hand under her elbow and guiding her to MDR. He drops his hand from her as they start walking, but Helly can’t help but notice how his shoulder occasionally bumps with hers.

“I think your outie got a new cologne, by the way,” says Helly as they navigate the winding halls.

Mark, who seems to have been caught up in his own thoughts, shakes his head at her words before bringing his left wrist up to his nose.

“You’re right,” he says, dropping his hand down so that it rests by hers again. “I hope it’s not too overpowering.”

Helly bites her lip and shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I like it.”

She chances a glance at Mark, who is already looking at her. He smiles at her, and all she can do is grin back.

“Maybe your outie is dating someone,” she says, trying to sound casual about it even though the thought puts her stomach in knots.

She sees Mark blush and look down at the floor. “I don’t think so. I think I would know.”

The knots in her stomach get less tight, but they’re still there. As they walk, the back of their hands brush against each other.

Helly doesn’t realize just how much she has grown to depend on her walks with Mark until she can’t do them anymore. They’re all locked in after they took a trip to O&D, even though Mark had already gone to the break room for it. The only walking around she can do is taking a loop around MDR or going to the kitchen, and she has a feeling that doing that too much will just get Mark into more trouble.

The air in the room is almost suffocating. Irv is severely depressed over not being able to see Burt. Dylan has been stewing about something since this morning. And Mark…Mark has his sleeves rolled up and she can smell his new cologne. It’s making it hard to focus on refining numbers.

So, when Mr. Milchick comes in and announces that she’s earned a Music Dance Experience for them, she’s almost excited. At least she now has an excuse to get out of her chair.

“I choose defiant jazz,” she says, holding her maraca.

The music starts and the lights change from the awful sterile white to a mix of soft pinks and orange. She begins to move her body, mirroring Mr. Milchick, who is a surprisingly good dancer. Despite everything, despite all Lumon has done and how she knows that she’s probably trapped here forever, Helly is enjoying herself. She’s having fun.

She looks up and sees Mark, moving along to the music, shimmying his arms and shoulders. He looks stiff, but he seems to be enjoying himself. She catches his eye, and Mark gives her a smile that she returns. Suddenly, she isn’t just dancing. She’s dancing at him. Almost with him.

She feels her cheeks get hot as she looks at Mark, the back of her ears tingling, the fluttering in her chest and stomach returning. Connections begin to form in her brain. Mark is her friend, maybe her closest friend, and she likes hanging out with him. She likes him. Likes him.

She likes talking to him, likes looking at him, likes when they go on walks and when he makes her a cup of coffee. She likes when he places a hand on her shoulder or her arm, likes to remember how it felt to be caught by him in the ropes course. She likes how funny and kind he is, how attentive he is to everyone in the office.

She realizes with a start that Mark is very handsome. It’s not just the lights. It’s not just his new haircut or his new clothes. He’s been handsome since the day she woke up on that conference table.

She likes him. She really likes Mark.

The word crush comes into her brain, but that word doesn’t feel strong enough. Not for Mark.

Before Helly can really allow herself to think about this, a raging scream rips through MDR as Dylan charges at Milchick, tackling him and biting a chunk out of his flesh.

The MDE is now officially cancelled.

The next day, Helly’s brain is buzzing with the new possibilities. They have the security keycard. They have a plan to trigger to OTC at the end of the quarter, in two weeks’ time. They’ll get to see their outside lives and hopefully raise the alarm about the conditions at Lumon.

As she walks into MDR and is let in by Milchick, Mark is there, making the coffee like he always does.

“Hey,” she says, leaning against the counter.

“Hey,” he responds, handing her the coffee.

She can see the excitement in his eyes, though they don’t say anything. The only place it’s safe to talk about the plan is in the storage closet, and even that’s in whispers.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but I really liked your dress yesterday,” says Mark before taking a sip.

Helly mirrors him and also takes a sip, trying not to grin too widely. “Thanks. Not that I had much choice in the matter.”

Mark chuckles and shrugs. “I know. But I haven’t seen much yellow down here. It’s nice. I liked it on you.”

“Thanks,” responds Helly, her voice going soft.

The two continue to drink and look at each other, the silence growing a little too loud for Helly’s liking. She thinks about how she felt yesterday while they were dancing and takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Listen, Mark…”

But before she can continue, the doors open to reveal Irv and Dylan, accompanied by Milchick.

“What is it?” asks Mark.

Helly swallows down her confession and just smiles at him. “I’ll tell you later.”

Mark cocks his head at her but returns her smile anyway. It’s time for the morning announcements.

Helly goes to sit at her desk, looking over at Irv. His face is pale and his eyes look sunken. When He had returned from O&D with news of Burt’s retirement, all she could do was give him a hug.

“Alright everyone, settle down,” says Mark, shifting from side to side.

“You’re standing weird again,” says Dylan.

Mark blushes and looks down at himself.

“I think he looks fine,” says Helly, giving him a thumbs up.

Mark smiles at her and mouths thank you before continuing.

“Now guys, please remember to not use too many glasses when getting water, it’s wasteful when they have to all be washed.”

Helly scoffs, wondering just how much stingier Lumon could get.

“Also, please don’t waste paper on making unnecessary things such as airplanes and footballs.”

“Feeling attacked,” says Dylan, crossing his arms.

“And lastly…” starts Mark, his eyes traveling down the paper as he reads. Mark’s voice trails off as he does so, his face going pale, his eyes going wide, his hands beginning to shake.

“Mark?” says Helly, leaning forward.

“I…uh…” stammers Mark, trying and failing to get the words out.

“Are you okay?” Helly asks.

Mark still can’t speak. He just looks up at her, his eyes wide and glassy.

“Since Mark seems a bit surprised by the news, I’ll take over,” says Milchick, walking to stand beside Mark. “Mark’s outie has put in his two weeks’ notice. Mark’s last day will be the last day of the quarter. We’re sad to see him go, but I’m sure Mark’s outie has great things planned ahead.”

Helly stands up from her desk, feeling weak and shaky. She locks eyes with Mark, who isn’t doing much better. There’s a roaring in her ears as Milchick continues to talk, but she can’t focus on him. All she can focus on is Mark, and how sad and scared he looks. How she’s gotten so used to him, how she just realized she likes him, and how suddenly, thanks to his outie, she’s about to lose him forever.

Chapter Text

Mark Scout thrives on routine, though he wouldn’t exactly call his life thriving.

Every weekday morning, he wakes up, pops a Tylenol for his headache, brushes his teeth, showers and shaves, before heading downstairs and making breakfast. It’s usually an overcooked egg because he was never good at making eggs, even when Gemma was alive. She always knew how to make the yolk runny while the white was firm.

He drives to work and gives his body over to oblivion for eight hours. Then he drives home and eats whatever junk is in his fridge so he doesn’t have to go grocery shopping, before cracking open one or two or four cans of beer. He watches TV as he drinks away the aching loneliness in his gut, drinks to feel the loose tingles in his body as opposed to feeling like an empty vessel.

When Gemma had died, all he felt was a deep, explosive pain, his body often hunched over on itself, shaking as he sobbed in his car or his house. That pain had been ground down to a persistent dull ache, temporarily patched with copious amounts of alcohol. On his better days, he felt nothing. On his worst days, he felt everything. At least until he walked into the elevator.

But ever since he came out of work one day with a bump on his head and a gift card to Pips, he started coming out of work feeling…better? Calmer? Happier? He couldn’t remember the last time he felt happy. Maybe the bump really had given him brain damage.

A few weeks after the bump, he looks into the mirror of the bathroom and decides he really, really needs a haircut. His hair is curling at the nape of his neck, and on his worst days it really does look like he has a permanent bike helmet attached to his head.

He hadn’t cared about his appearance in years. He only groomed himself for work because Lumon had made it clear that his job would be on the line if he came in looking like a slob, and the generous salary they gave him for being unconscious for eight hours a day wasn’t something he wanted to lose. Most of the time he barely even perceived himself in the mirror. When he thought about himself, all he could see was a floating tangled knot of grief and anger, or a ghost who didn’t know he had died.

But now, suddenly, he saw himself, really saw himself, and God, his hair looked like shit.

“Why didn’t you tell me I looked like I had a permanent case of helmet hair?” he asks Devon on the phone while he sits in the waiting area of the barber shop.

“I wasn’t aware that you got rid of all the mirrors in your house,” she responds.

“I look like a drowned rat.”

“I mean, Alexa seemed to like it,” says Devon.

Mark feels a sick feeling in his gut. When he thinks about Alexa, he thinks about Reghabi, about how she killed a man in front of him, about how that man’s security card was still hidden in his sock drawer.

“And we all know how well that turned out,” Mark responds, trying to sound casual.

“People look for more things than just looks, you know. And I wasn’t gonna focus on your hair of all things when there’s so many other parts of your life that could use a tune up.”

Before Mark can retort, his name is being called, so he says bye to Devon and walks over to the chair, anticipation building in his stomach as the barber throws the cape over him.

After thirty minutes of buzzing and cutting, Mark looks up into the mirror and doesn’t recognize himself at first. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, for his brain to accept what he is seeing. He almost looks good. He almost looks like a person.

The next thing he starts to notice is that his work suits don’t really fit. Well, they fit in the technical sense, in that they cover up his body as clothes should do, but they feel…weird. Unbalanced. Too tight in places and too loose in others. The fabric too scratchy and too stiff.

So, he goes to the nicer tailor in town who makes severed clothes instead of the Severed Superstore who sells acceptable clothes for cheap. He stands on a pedestal while a tiny old man with pins in his mouth measures and mutters and writes down copious notes. Mark is just grateful that he doesn’t get poked by said needles.

His five new suits cost an amount that makes his eyes water, but when he puts them on his body, he feels a tension he didn’t know he was holding release. Everything feels just a little bit softer. Everything feels just a little bit easier.

“What are you smiling about?” asks Devon as she picks him up from work one day while his car is in the shop.

“What?” says Mark as he slides into the passenger seat, Eleanor cooing in the back.

“When you walked out of the building you had a big smile on your face. You still do,” says Devon as she pulls out of the parking lot.

Mark reaches his hands up to his face, feeling where his facial muscles are sore from lack of use. He is smiling. He has been smiling since he came out of the elevator. He just has no idea why.

Mark is browsing on his laptop for no reason, only nursing one beer instead of three. The TV plays in front of him, showing a rerun of Name that Eagan! from the 90s. He’s scrolling through his barely used social media when he sees an ad for an adjunct history position at Dieter Community College.

The commute is kinda shit. The pay is way less than what he currently makes. It’s a severe downgrade from his last tenured position, before he went and fucked it all up with his drinking.

But. There’s a part of him that thinks about teaching again and feels something shift inside of him. Gemma taught at a community college for a bit before she got her job at Ganz and always said that she preferred the students there to the ones at Ganz.

He thinks about lesson plans and office hours and grading and lectures, and a new ache fills his chest. Like he misses it. Even the frustrating parts of academia. Plus, he has a lot of savings now since all he spends his money on is beer, helped by his cheap subsidized housing.

As he starts to put an application together, a beautiful woman pops up on his TV. His fingers freeze over his keyboard as his eyes focus on her. She’s sitting on a chair and spouting off the benefits of getting severed. Helena Eagan, CEO in waiting.

“Look, my dad would love for me to sit here and say that I’m taking this job out of loyalty and that it was the spirit of Kier Eagan calling me to service.”

He can’t stop looking at her, the way she talks with her hands, the way her hair rests softly around her face.

“But I took a severed job because it sounds freaking awesome.”

Mark snorts. His hand flies up to his mouth after the sound comes out, shock coursing through him. He can’t remember the last time he laughed. Guilt quickly floods his veins, but it’s dull. Not the sharp feeling it usually is.

He looks at the face of Helena Eagan and feels something tickle in the back of his brain, followed by a strange flutter in his chest. He feels something in the corner of his memory, something trying to get out. Something he can’t quite reach.

Then the commercial ends and Name that Eagan! returns, snapping Mark out of whatever fog his brain was in. He blinks a few times, shakes his head, and continues his application.

The next day, for reasons that he doesn’t fully understand, he finally obeys Reghabi’s orders and goes to work with the keycard in his pocket. When he comes out of the elevator, it’s gone.

“Are you wearing a new cologne?” asks Devon after dinner at her house one night.

Mark pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. He has bought new cologne, and he’s been wearing it to work. He doesn’t know why he bought it. All he knows is that while shopping for some new jeans at Myrtle’s Department Store, a sales lady had convinced him to try a sample spray. He had liked the smell a lot, but it wasn’t the only reason he bought it. He had the distinct, strange feeling that he wanted to impress someone. He just had no idea who.

“Yeah, just trying something new,” says Mark before taking a bite of his salmon. Devon continues to stare at him, her head tilted. Ricken is putting Eleanor to bed, so he doesn’t have to be subjected to his brother-in-law’s views on the erotic quality of certain smells.

“Why, you trying to impress someone? A girl?” asks Devon.

Mark just rolls his eyes. “I bought this for myself. I just felt like it.”

“Really?” asks Devon. “It’s just…the haircut, the new clothes, the cologne. It just adds up to you liking someone. I remember how you were when you met Gemma.”

Mark opens his mouth to argue but can’t get the words out. Because Devon is right. Everything he did was exactly what he did after meeting Gemma at the blood drive. He was trying to spiff himself up so that he could impress her. Haircuts and clothes he couldn’t afford and buying cologne he knew she would like.

“I…it’s just a coincidence. I think I would know if I met someone, Devon,” says Mark, stuffing more fish into his mouth.

“The next thing you’re going to do is bring her a present,” says Devon with a grin. “Though I hope you do better than the ant farm.”

“Who’s Mark bringing a present to?”

Mark groans silently as Ricken reenters the room.

“A girl he claims doesn’t exist,” responds Devon.

“That’s because she doesn’t exist,” says Mark, reaching forward for his water. He wishes now he hadn’t declined the wine Ricken had offered him.

“Hmmm,” says Ricken, leaning forward, his fingertips pressed together, studying Mark like he’s a germ under a microscope. It makes the skin on the back of Mark’s neck prickle.

“Maybe,” starts Ricken, clearly gathering his thoughts, “you’ve met someone at your job. On the severed floor.”

Mark and Devon both stare at Ricken before Devon lets out a laugh.

“Hilarious, babe,” says Devon, still chuckling.

“Why is it funny? Do we know anywhere else where Mark could have met a woman and not know it?”

“That’s impossible,” mutters Mark, taking another drink.

“Or it could be a man,” says Ricken, more to himself than the table, though it still causes Mark to choke on his drink. “We don’t know how innies experience sexuality down there. Do we think they know about things like racism or homophobia?”

Mark continues to cough, causing Devon to reach over and pound him on the back.

“Innie’s don’t have a sexuality,” splutters Mark, his eyes tearing up, still trying to catch his breath. “They talk about it in the start paperwork. All innies care about is being good at their jobs.”

Ricken just shrugs. “Well, you claim to not have met anyone of a romantic nature, and my darling wife has noticed a repeated pattern of behavior with you. So, it is the only hypothesis I can come up with.”

Mark opens his mouth to argue, but Devon shoots him a look. She manages to change the subject to Ricken’s next book reading, taking the scrutiny off Mark. Thank God, because Mark was about to point out that one of them had a PhD from a prestigious university and the other had a certificate from a sketchy online school.

Still, when he drives home and cracks open a beer before lying down in bed, he can’t help but repeat Ricken’s words over and over in his head until he finally falls asleep.

Mark returns from work to an email he never expected: a request from Dieter Community College to schedule and interview. When he calls the number as he makes his breakfast, they tell him they can get him in after his work ends the next day. The person he’s talking too sounds a little desperate on the phone.

As he drives there after his shift, still in his work clothes, he knows that there’s probably red flags about this process, but he goes anyway. It’s a start. Everything is always a start.

A few days pass after the interview without him hearing anything, and he allows the disappointment to come and pass. He has a job and a house and his sister. His life sucks, but things could be so much worse.

Then he gets a call from the college, offering him the position.

He tells them he’ll consider it, then sits at his kitchen table, going over everything. The school must really be desperate if they’re offering it to a man who showed up drunk to his last professor job and has been severed for the past two years. But he thinks about teaching again and feels a longing in his gut.

He looks around his bare Lumon house and thinks about renting an apartment near campus, like he and Gemma did early in their marriage. Those memories are happy, and the thought of doing it again doesn’t sound daunting. He doesn’t have any attachment to this house. He doesn’t have any attachment to Kier, except for Devon.

He thinks about how Reghabi killed that man, and it finalizes his decision for him.

He picks up his phone to call Mr. Milchick, but as he dials the numbers, he swears his thumb slows down. He gets that fuzzy feeling again, like his brain is trying to tell him something. But as the phone starts to ring, he snaps out of it, shaking his head as Mr. Milchick picks up the phone with a friendly hello.

“Mr. Milchick, it’s Mark Scout, I’m a severed employee, employee number 4502.”

“Mr. Scout! What can I do for you this fine evening?”

Mark opens his mouth, and feels the fuzziness again.

“Mr. Scout?”

Mark shakes it off.

“Um, I’m actually calling to inform you that I will be tendering my resignation. I’ve accepted a job elsewhere.”

Mr. Milchick says nothing, though Mark can hear him scrambling around, almost like he’s in a panic. Finally, the man speaks again.

“Uh, I am very pleased at your good fortune Mr. Scout, but we at Lumon will be very sad to see you go. Your innie is a very valuable member of the team. Is the new position a severed one?”

Mark feels something twist in his gut, a thought that never even occurred to him. His innie. His innie would no longer exist.

“No,” he says, quietly. “No, it’s not.”

There’s silence on the phone, and Mark wonders if Milchick is trying to communicate with someone.

“Mr. Scout, you really are a valuable member of this team. If it is about financial compensation—”

“It’s not,” interrupts Mark. “It’s about…making a life change.”

Milchick goes silent again, before letting out a deep sigh. “Well, we at Lumon are very sad to see you go. I will make sure to inform your innie tomorrow of what’s happening.”

Mark’s gut twists again, but he pushes the thought away. His innie only cares about work, like a happy little worker bee. It’s not like it’s some kind of loss.

“Thank you, Mr. Milchick. See you tomorrow,” Mark says before hanging up the phone.

Mark sighs as he flops on the couch and opens a beer. He feels lighter, but he can still feel that strange tingling in the back of his head. He drowns out the feeling with an IPA.

The next morning, as he makes his coffee and gets ready for work, Mark notices a box of caramels sitting on his counter. Devon had given them to him, claiming she would eat the whole box if left in her house.

He opens up the box and sees the little brown caramels, covered only with some plastic wrapping. There’s no writing on them to be seen.

Without really considering why, he fishes two of the caramels out of the box and slips them into his pocket. He tells himself they’re a snack for later, and if Judd notices them before he gets on the elevator, they'll be easy to explain away.

Chapter Text

Despite his relatively short time existing, Mark S. definitely knew three things about himself.

One, he was a pretty good refiner. Not as good as Dylan, but he definitely got the job done, and for two years he took pride in that.

Two, he didn’t like to see anyone sad or upset. Even before he was department chief, he tried his best to be friendly with most of the people around him, even if they were pissed off and chucking objects at his head. He felt a deep urge inside of himself to help people, even if it made his life harder than it needed to be.

And three, he absolutely could not stop thinking about Helly R.

He could lie to himself and say the fixation started after he had found her hanging in the elevator, but he knew it went back as early as when she threw the speaker at his head. He would be refining numbers and suddenly lose sight of a cluster when Helly walked past his desk, her hand touching his shoulder, her perfume lingering in the air. He would rush through his morning chores to make sure that he could get the coffee ready so she could have a cup just as she walked in. He spent his time thinking of new places to walk with her during their mental health walks.

After she fell on him in the team building space, all Mark could think about was how light she really was as he held her, and how he could see flecks of green in her amber eyes. When he talked to her, all he could focus on was the sound of her laugh, or how her nose crinkled, or how she would tilt her head while making fun of him. When she called him boss, it felt like bolts of electricity were shooting down into his stomach, and maybe even a little lower. When she placed her hand on his chest and asked if he was okay, it was like something broke open in his brain. He liked Helly. He liked Helly a whole lot more than a boss likes an employee, or a friend likes a friend.

Mark knew what a crush was. He’d seen it before. Seen it in the way Dylan tried to flirt with Ms. Casey, seen it in the way Irv got giddy over going to see Burt. But he, personally, had never felt anything like that before. In fact, when his hands started getting sweaty and he could feel his heart racing whenever Helly was near, his first thought was that he was coming down with something.

Mark just didn’t know what to do with these feelings, or where to put them. It was forbidden for innies to fraternize in such a way. As Kier always said, the love of industry is more powerful than any type of romantic love. Plus, he was Helly’s boss, and he had a responsibility to make sure she was doing well, to make sure she was properly settling in. He wouldn’t be a good boss if he derailed all that by acting like a lovesick fool.

Unfortunately, Dylan had instantly picked up on his feelings, and even Irv had given him a look or two. The smirks from Dylan were bad enough, but what was worse were Dylan’s comments about fraternization and going off to see more “baby goats.” He always mentioned the goats while wiggling his eyebrows, clearly implying something much more physical. It made Mark simultaneously blush and scoff. Why would they even call it that?

Besides, he didn’t even know if there was a chance of Helly liking him back. Even with the new changes in his hair and his clothes, he was just Mark at the end of the day. Plain, boring Mark. And Helly was…well, Helly. A beautiful spitfire who had crashed into his life, so brave and funny and loyal, and made him realize there was a hole in his heart that he only wanted her to fill.

Watching Helly dance during the music dance experience had been revelatory because it made him realize that he wasn’t just yearning for her. His body also wanted her, desperately. He could feel it simmering inside him, how much he wanted to reach out and touch her. As he watched her in her yellow dress, shaking her maraca and shimmying her shoulders, looking at him and smiling at him, he realized that he desperately wanted to kiss her.

When Mark exits the elevator, he knows he should be thinking about the OTC plan, but all he can really think about as he walks down the hallways is how nice Helly looked in that yellow dress. He doesn’t know what compels him to put his hand in his pocket as he makes the coffee that morning, but when he does, he finds two smooth objects in there. Looking around to make sure he’s alone, he slowly pulls them out and gives them a quick glance. He has no idea how his outie got Graner’s keycard, so Kier knows what he could be sending him now.

When he cracks open his palm, however, what he finds are two brown, squishy things covered in clear plastic. It takes a moment of looking at them for the word caramels to come to his brain.

He stares at them for a moment longer before shoving them back in his pocket. Why on earth would his outie send food down here? Is it some kind of test? Some kind of trap? He mulls it over as he continues to make the coffee, getting down Helly’s favorite mug.

Helly. She likes her coffee sweet, so maybe she would like to share the candy with him. The thought of her unwrapping the caramel and placing it between her lips, letting it melt on her tongue, makes him almost spill the coffee as a shocking warmth spreads through his body. When he thinks about her smiling at him after he gives her the gift, a flutter returns to his chest.

“Hey.”

Mark turns to look at her, her red hair standing out against her blue sweater, and can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Hey,” he says, handing her the coffee.

She grins at him, and he feels flutters all over. When it’s time to give the morning announcements, he tries to stand a little straighter, hoping that she’ll like it.

Mark can hear his friends shouting at Milchick, their three voices mixed together in tones of shock and horror as they yell about his outie's resignation, but Mark can’t find it in him to speak. All he can do is turn around and walk into the bathroom, shutting out the noise behind him. He stumbles to the sink and leans his hands against it, breathing hard and fast, his whole body shaking, feeling a rising panic in his throat.

He looks up into the mirror and sees his new haircut and his new suit and feels sick at the sight. He had been so pleased with a new hairstyle and how nice the new clothes felt. He liked how much better he looked and liked the idea of Helly looking at him even more. Now, he wants to shave off all his hair and cut the suit into shreds. What’s the point of looking and feeling nice when you are going to die in two weeks?

“Mark?”

Mark flinches as Helly’s voice, much softer and more tender than it usually is, wafts through the door.

“Can I come in?”

Mark opens his mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. His tongue feels thick and he’s breathing so fast that he thinks he might be about to pass out.

Helly comes in without waiting for an answer, and before Mark knows what’s happening, she has her arms around him, guiding him to the far wall of the bathroom, urging him to sit down.

“Put your head between your knees, like this,” she says softly, gently pressing the back of his head down till he can feel the blood flowing back to his brain. She sits next to him and delicately places her hand on his back. “You looked like you were about to pass out.”

Mark tries to take some deep, calming breaths, but the tears leaking out of his eyes are making it difficult.

“Dylan and Irv have followed Mr. Milchick back to Cobel’s office,” says Helly, rubbing her hand in small circles between his shoulder blades. “There was a lot of shouting. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Irv raise his voice like that.”

Mark focuses on the soft touch of her hand through the fabric of his clothes, wanting nothing more than to feel her palm on his bare skin. He can’t ask her that, though. Not now. Especially not now.

As the room comes back into focus and his stomach feels less sick, Mark slowly raises his head up and rests it against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. He tries to wipe away the tear strains on his cheeks without Helly noticing, but he’s pretty sure that she already has.

“Hey,” she whispers.

Mark finally turns to look at her, and to his shock he sees that her face is pale, her eyes red and watery. Had she been crying?

“Oh, Helly,” he says, his voice hoarse. His hand reaches out and hovers by her face, but stops before he touches her. “There’s no need to cry over me.”

Helly blinks and quickly turns away from him, discreetly wiping her eyes. “I wasn’t. Because there’s nothing to cry about. You’re not leaving.”

She turns back and smiles at him, the tears gone, but her eyes still look red.

“Helly…”

“They can’t let you go. You’re the department chief, you’re too important,” says Helly, reaching out and placing her hand on his. Mark’s breath hitches as she touches him. He had imagined what it would be like to hold her hand, to let their fingers lace together, and now all he has to do is open his hand a bit more for that to happen.

“But it isn’t Lumon who is letting me go,” says Mark, quietly, trying not to stare at their hands. “My outie wants to quit. It’s his decision.”

Helly’s lips go thin as she shakes her head.

“We just…” starts Helly, pausing when Mark notices a little wobble in her voice. “We just have to convince your outie to not resign. Like a reverse resignation request. We can send him one of those.”

“I don’t think those exist,” says Mark.

“Well, then we’ll make one,” says Helly, squeezing the top of Mark’s hand while Mark tries not to think about how soft her skin is. “We’ll make one and bring it Cobel and demand to send it to your outie, or I’ll threaten to cut my fingers off again.”

“No!” cries out Mark, snapping out of his melancholy enough to turn to Helly and shift his hand so that his fingers entwine with hers. “Absolutely fucking not. I won’t let you do that.”

Helly blinks in surprise at his outburst before looking down and staring at their connected hands. Mark feels his chest pounding as she does so, but she makes no move to pull her hand away. When she looks back up at him, Mark realizes just how close their faces are to each other.

“They’re not going to let me cut my fingers off,” says Helly, softly.

“That’s not the point,” says Mark, squeezing her hand just a little tighter.

“If it’s a choice between my fingers and your life—”

“No.”

Helly blinks again, and Mark can feel…something between them, something that crackles in the air. She is so incredibly beautiful. Her face is so close to his that he can’t help it when his eyes drop to her lips.

“What is it?” she asks.

“I…” he tries to say, but the words get lost in his throat. He gently rubs his thumb against her knuckles before forcing his eyes back up to her face. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself again. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it.”

Helly gets a determined look in her eye, one that frightens Mark just as much as it makes him want to kiss her.

“Mark, I—”

But before she can continue her thought, the bathroom door bursts open, revealing a pissed off Dylan and Irv, who is holding a glass of water. Mark and Helly quickly move back from each other, Mark dropping her hand. He instantly misses it.

“It’s bullshit, absolute bullshit, dude,” says Dylan.

“I’m afraid I must concur with Dylan,” says Irv as he hands Mark the glass. The rage that has been simmering in him since Burt’s retirement is definitely nearing a boiling point. At one point Mark would have sat Irv down and made him a coffee and tried to get him to talk about his feelings. Now, all Mark can focus on is his own numbness.

“Do you think we…he’s being punished for the OTC plan?” asks Helly in a whisper.

“I did not get that impression,” says Irv. “We heard Milchick and Cobel talking about getting your outie scheduled for your goodbye video. Plus, we still have the keycard and the instructions.”

Mark swallows a sip of water and nods before turning to look at Helly again, but Helly isn’t looking at him this time. That determined look is in her eyes again, and she stands up and walks out of the bathroom without saying a word.

“Helly?” calls out Mark, trying to stand up a little too quickly and stumbling as he does so.

“Woah, dude, relax,” says Dylan, putting his hands out on Mark’s shoulders.

“I don’t want her doing anything stupid or dangerous,” says Mark, feeling a desperate need to get to her. “She said she was going to threaten to cut her fingers off again.”

“She’s not going to do that dude,” says Dylan, his hands still firmly planted on Mark.

“All the sharp objects and chords were removed, remember?” says Irv.

“Yeah, but—”

“Relax,” says Dylan, relaxing his grip a bit. “Your girlfriend isn’t going to hurt herself right now.”

Mark has unfortunately chosen that moment to take another sip of water, which he immediately chokes on. He doubles over as both Dylan and Irv pound on his back until he can properly breathe again.

“What?” he gasps at Dylan as his eyes water.

“Oh, was it supposed to be a secret that you clearly have a huge crush on—”

“Dylan!” hisses Irv. “Is this really the time?”

“Time? Of course it fucking is,” says Dylan, kneeling down to get at Mark’s eyelevel. “Listen dude. This whole situation sucks ass. I’m fucking horrified and pissed and scared for you, because I love you, dude. But, and that’s a big fucking but, you don’t have time to fuck around anymore. You have two weeks to do whatever you want or need to do with your life down here. Capisce?”

Mark can feel his face burning as both Dylan and Irv stare at him.

“I need some air” is all he can get out as Mark quickly walks out of the bathroom and back to MDR. Helly isn’t here, and the doors are no longer shut. He feels a desperate need to go after her but finds himself collapsing into his chair.

He puts his head in his hands and tries to sort out his jumble of thoughts, but the only thing that comes through loud and clear is that he is going to die. In two weeks he’s going to step into the elevator and never wake back up. He tries to imagine nonexistence, but all that does is make his chest feel tight and panicky.

He supposes that there is a chance that his outie has taken a different severed job somewhere, and that he’ll wake up on a new floor with a new team to work with. It should give him some comfort, but when he thinks about life without Dylan and Irv and god, life without Helly, nonexistence seems like the better deal.

Helly. Fuck.

You have two weeks to do whatever you want or need to do with your life down here.

Dylan doesn’t get it, though. This isn’t just about him and his stupid feelings. Just yesterday he had realized how much he wanted to kiss her, and now he knew he couldn’t. It just wasn’t as simple as walking up to Helly and planting a kiss on her lips, as much as the thought made him blush. He simply couldn’t be selfish and use her to fulfil his desires and then just disappear for the rest of her life. That’s not what a good boss does. That’s not what a good friend does.

He reaches into his pocket and rolls the caramels between his fingers, trying to swallow down the ache of longing in his chest. He can feel it thumping right next to his heart.

Helly stalks down the corridors to Cobel’s office, a fire lit inside of her heart. She hadn’t felt this angry since her first days here on the severed floor. Except this time, it wasn’t about leaving. It was about getting a person she cared about to stay.

She hated being here, hated knowing that her life was entirely confined to the hallways of this building, but she had been…accepting is the wrong word. She would never accept this. But she had been finding reasons to want to live, even if she didn’t always want to admit it. She had Irv and Dylan, who were starting to feel almost like a family to her.

And Mark. God, Mark. When she thought about him, she got nervous, feeling a kind of vulnerability she had never felt before. It scared her, how much she enjoyed spending time with him. And now he might be leaving forever. The thought makes her heart hurt.

She marches into the waiting area of Cobel’s office, expecting Milchick to be there to scold her, but he’s not. Instead, she can hear muffled voices from behind Cobel’s closed door. Helly carefully walks over and presses her ear against the wood.

“…taking up a teaching post at Dieter Community College,” she hears Milchick say. “They apparently were thrilled that a professor of his status applied, even with his history. They don’t want to rescind the offer, but even if they do I worry it won’t convince him to stay.”

Helly presses her ear closer. Are they talking about Mark’s outie?

“Him not staying can’t be an option,” says Cobel. “After this file is complete, the next is Cold Harbor. We need him.”

“Can’t you talk to him?” asks Milchick.

“And what would his neighbor talking to him achieve? We need a stronger plan of attack before the meeting.”

There’s a shuffling of papers and the scrape of a chair. Helly jumps back from the door and manages to get a good few feet away before it’s opened by Milchick, who looks at her with annoyance.

“Helly R. Please return to MDR immediately.”

Helly ignores him, pushing past so she can stalk into Cobel’s office.

“You can’t let Mark’s outie resign,” says Helly before Cobel can even open her mouth. The older woman glares at her, looking around to see if Helly has any sharp objects in her hands.

“And why should I do that?” asks Cobel, her voice low, though not quite at the level that Helly has learned is dangerous.

“He…he’s department chief,” is the first thing that comes to Helly’s mind. Cobel’s face doesn’t change. In fact, it barely even moves as she continues to stare at Helly. “He keeps everything running smoothly. And it would be a huge hit for the morale of the team.”

“In the event of Mark’s retirement, Dylan would become department chief,” says Cobel.

“That’s not the fucking point,” says Helly, trying to match Cobel’s stare. “I…we need him. The department doesn’t work without him. I think you know that.”

Helly watches as Cobel lets out a long, slow breath.

“Is he…is he transferring to another severed floor?” asks Helly, her voice betraying her with a wobble.

Cobel tilts her head, her lips going thin. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, he is not.”

Helly feels her throat go thick. “Well then, let Mark tape a message to his outie telling him he doesn’t want to quit.”

Cobel lets out a huff but tilts her head, clearly thinking about something. When she finally speaks, she chooses her words carefully.

“What Mark’s outie chooses to do is in the best interest for Mark.”

“Bullshit,” whispers Helly.

Cobel tilts her head in the other direction, clearly studying Helly. “Why do you care so much about this?”

Helly feels her mouth go dry. “Like I said. He’s department chief.”

“And like I said,” continues Cobel, “in the event of Mark’s retirement, I have every faith in MDR to—”

“It’s not a retirement, so stop fucking calling it that.”

Cobel’s eyes lower into slits before she stands up.

“Get out. Now.”

Helly resists the temptation to flip Cobel off before she turns and walks out. It’s only as she begins the walk back to MDR that Helly realizes her entire body is shaking.

When Helly returns to MDR, Irv and Dylan are talking quietly in the kitchen while Mark sits at his desk, mindlessly scrolling through the numbers on his monitor. The look on his face, a mix of deep sadness and apathy, makes Helly’s heart hurt. She takes a steadying breath before walking over to Mark, pulling her chair so she can plop down next to him.

“Hey,” says Helly softly.

Mark doesn’t respond. He just continues to scroll with his track ball, his eyes glazing over as he stares at the screen.

“Mark?”

Still, there’s no response. Helly swallows before gently placing her hand on top of his, stopping his scrolling. Under her palm she can feel Mark shaking.

“Hey,” she says again, leaning toward him.

With her hand on his, Mark stops scrolling, and his shaking lessens. His only movement is to open his fingers wider so that she can link her hand with his. Helly never wants to let go.

“So,” whispers Mark. “No luck with the video message idea?”

He’s smiling at her, as if she’s the one who needs comfort right now.

“I haven’t given up,” says Helly, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m very stubborn.”

“Yeah,” says Mark with a huff that sounds like a laugh. “I know you are.”

Helly bites her bottom lip, her mind racing and her heart pounding. She has to do something. Anything. Her body is vibrating with the need to fix this, to show him how much she cares.

A wildly stupid idea comes to her. Unlatching her hand from Mark, she runs over to the printer and extracts a piece of paper before running back over to him.

“We’re not supposed to make paper airplanes anymore,” says Mark.

“This isn’t that,” says Helly, grabbing a pen and handing it to Mark. “I want you to write down everything you’ve ever wanted to do with your life.”

Mark raises an eyebrow at her. “Really? Everything?”

“Everything,” says Helly. “We’re going to fix this still, but…just humor me.”

Mark just continues to stare at her.

“Please?” asks Helly.

Mark sighs and turns to the paper, taking a moment to think before writing something down. Helly nods and returns to her monitor, trying to distract herself by refining. Irv and Dylan return to their desks, and for a while MDR’s only sound is the clicking of keys and the scribble of Mark’s pen.

About an hour later, Helly hears Mark lay down his pen. When she looks up at him, he’s looking at her with a soft smile on his face.

“Okay,” he says. “I think I got everything.”

Helly spins in her chair and grins at him. “Great. Let me see it.”

Mark’s smile quickly drops, his face full of panic. “You’re going to read it?”

“Well, duh,” says Helly. “How else am I gonna help you get these things done?”

Mark frantically grabs for one of his easers and tries to erase the very last item on the list. “Shit,” he says as he remembers that erasers can’t do anything for pen. Before Helly can grab the paper though, Mark rips the very bottom of the paper off and hands her the remaining list.

“There you go,” says Mark, crossing his arms, clearly trying to hide the scrap of paper in his hand.

Helly raises an eyebrow at him as she reads down the list. Climb a mountain. Walk through a forest. Walk a dog. Build a tent. Count the stars. Eat a slice of cake.

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but most of these are impossible,” says Dylan, reading the list over Helly’s shoulder.

“Hey,” responds Helly, giving Dylan a nudge. “Nothing is impossible.”

She’s already coming up with ideas in her head, but her eyes keep going down to that little piece of scrap paper in Mark’s hand. Noticing where her eyes are, Mark rips the paper into smaller pieces before throwing it in the trash can.

Helly bites her lip but doesn’t say anything.

“Alright, back to work guys,” says Mark, staring resolutely at his monitor.

Helly slides Mark’s list under her keyboard before getting back to work. When she takes a moment to glance at Mark, she swears he is spending more time looking at her than refining.

The end of the day comes too quickly for Helly. She doesn’t want to leave. She wants to draw out these quiet moments with Mark for as long as she can.

Irv leaves first, then Dylan, giving the two of them a smirk before he does so. Once Dylan is down the hallway, Helly takes a breath and starts to talk.

“Hey, Mar—”

“Ihavesomethingforyou.”

The words come out of Mark’s mouth so fast that Helly almost doesn’t understand them. When she looks at Mark, he looks almost surprised that the words came out of his mouth.

“What was that?” asks Helly.

Mark swallows and stands up, pointing with his head over to the kitchen. Helly gets up and follows him, her hands twisting nervously. When they get to the back of the kitchen, Mark turns around so quickly that Helly almost bumps into him.

“Hey,” she says, clearing her throat, trying not to think about how closely they are standing to each other.

“Hey, uh…” says Mark, fishing for something in his pocket. When he pulls it out and opens his hand, Helly sees two light brown morsels wrapped in plastic sitting in his palm.

“What…what are those?” she asks quietly.

“Caramels,” says Mark, taking Helly’s hand and turning it so that her palm faces up. He then places one of the caramels in her palm. “I think my outie left them in his pocket by mistake.”

Helly blinks, feeling something that almost feels like tears in her eyes. “Oh, no, Mark I can’t accept—”

“It’s a gift,” says Mark quickly. “From me to you.”

Helly blinks again. She’s never received a gift before.

“For being a really good friend,” says Mark quietly, looking down at the floor.

Friend. Why does the word cause a pain in her gut?

“Thank you,” says Helly softly, looking up at Mark. “But…you should eat both. You’ve earned it.”

Mark shakes his head again. “I’ll enjoy it more sharing it with you.”

Helly feels her heart flutter. “Well…thank you.”

The two of them take their time unwrapping the caramel, enjoying the crinkle of plastic. Once they both have their caramels free, Mark takes a bite of his while Helly wraps her lips around the end of her, letting the taste melt on her tongue.

“Holy shit,” says Mark, closing his eyes as he chews. “That’s really fucking good.”

Helly finally allows herself to bite off a small piece, an involuntary moan coming out of her as the flavor hits her all at once. “Fuck.” When she opens her eyes, she sees Mark staring at her.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah,” says Mark before popping the rest of the caramel in his mouth, chewing slowly. Helly takes another small bite of hers.

“Thank you,” Helly says, shooting him a smile.

“You’re welcome,” says Mark, looking up at the clock. “We should probably get going before Milchick finds us.”

“Yeah,” says Helly, but neither of them starts the process of moving. There’s something thick and heavy in the air between them, and she swears she sees Mark’s eyes go dark when she takes another bite of caramel. She considers taking a step closer to him. Then she remembers the word friend.

“You go first,” she says, breaking the spell. Mark blinks a few times before clearing his throat and taking a step back. “I’m gonna finish this.”

“You sure?” asks Mark.

“Yeah, you go. I’ll get the lights,” says Helly.

Mark nods, shifting on his feet before finally turning to leave the kitchen. “See you tomorrow, Helly.”

“See you soon,” she responds, watching as Mark puts on his jacket and leaves MDR.

Once he’s safely down the hallway, Helly pops the rest of the caramel into her mouth and runs over to the trash can, fishing out the pieces of paper that Mark had discarded earlier. Once she’s sure she’s gotten them all, she takes them over to her desk and tries to put them back together like a puzzle.

She continues to slowly chew her caramel as she places the pieces together, words slowly making themselves known to her. What could Mark possibly not want her to see?

When the final piece of paper is properly put in place, Helly looks down and almost chokes on her caramel. Running over to the kitchen, she grabs a glass of water and drinks until she’s no longer coughing and her breathing returns to normal. She then takes a few steadying breaths before walking back over to her desk, looking down at the words on the paper, which she could have sworn she read wrong.

She hasn’t.

In Mark’s messy handwriting, the words KISS HELLY stare resolutely back at her.

Chapter Text

When Mark Scout wakes up in the elevator, he comes to with the taste of caramel in his mouth and an almost painful tightness in his pants. He blinks a few times as he gets his bearings, trying not to stumble out when the doors open. He tries to walk as normally as possible as he gathers his things from his locker and makes his way to his car. When he’s finally safe inside, he takes a few deep breaths, allowing time to will the erection away.

God, did his innie get off to the taste of caramel?

He shakes the thought out of his head, but continues to feel…something as he drives. A fluttering of happiness in his gut, a tingle in his fingers, a warm heat dancing through his body, but also something not so nice, like the after effects of a panic attack. It follows him all the way home until he gets out of the car and hears his neighbor’s voice.

“Mark!”

Mark sighs as he closes the door, his happiness replaced by a vague sense of dread.

“Hi, Mrs. Selvig,” he says, turning to face her while forcing a friendly smile on his face.

The odd older woman grins at him as she carries a plate of cookies. Mark knows he should be polite, knows that she’s just lonely and trying to be friendly, but he just wants to go in and shed his work clothes.

“I’m on a new experiment,” says Mrs. Selvig, pressing the plate into his hand. “Chocolate Hibiscus.”

“Oh…thanks,” says Mark, taking the cookies from her. “Well, I’ll just take these in—”

“And how are you Mark,” says Mrs. Selvig, leaning towards him. “Devon mentioned something about a career change?”

Mark sighs. He knows that Devon likes Mrs. Selvig a lot, but she really needs to not be spilling his business to his neighbor.

“Yeah,” he says. “Got a job at Dieter Community College. I start in a few weeks.”

“Ohhh, how wonderful,” says Mrs. Selvig. “And I assume it pays as well as your current position?”

Mark pauses, shifting the plate of cookies in his arms. He has no idea how she got them to be so dense. “Uhh…well, no. It is a pay cut.”

“Well, money certainly isn’t everything,” she says with a smile. “But the commute, is it decent at least?”

Mark swallows. “It’s about an hour from here. I’ll probably end up moving.”

“Oh, what a shame, for I will miss you,” says Mrs. Selvig. “And moving! Such a hassle, having to pack everything up and find a new place and sign a lease and sell a house and all that nonsense, but it’s all worth it, I suppose. Do you think they would give you a relocation fee?”

“Uhh…”

“But, no matter. I’m sure the benefits must be excellent. Do you get a pension?”

“Oh, you know what Mrs. Selvig,” says Mark, reaching for his house keys. “I would love to talk but I’m just wiped.”

“Oh, not a problem, dear,” she says with a big grin on her face. “Please enjoy every one of those cookies.”

Mark manages to thank her again before closing the door behind him. The cookies drop with a heavy plop on his kitchen table before he goes straight for the fridge to grab a beer. By the time he’s out of his work clothes and on the couch, he’s feeling a little better, but Mrs. Selvig’s questions rattle around in his mind.

None of that stuff matters, he tells himself over and over again as he sips his beer. I’m ready for a life change. I don’t need severance anymore. This is what I have to do.

When Helly steps off the elevator, she doesn’t know if she’s happy or sad that Mark isn’t there to greet her. Her heart had been racing as she went up, and now it is racing again as she walks to MDR.

Kiss Helly. Kiss Helly. Kiss Helly. The ripped up words keep flashing into her mind’s eye. As she walks, Helly finds herself nervously smoothing down her hair and any wrinkles in her clothes.

Stop it, she tries to tell herself. You’re being silly.

Because it doesn’t necessarily mean that Mark likes her. Not as more than a friend. Maybe he just wanted to experience a kiss and she was the only girl around he could ask. Yeah. That’s probably it.

Except now the idea is in her head, a strikingly vivid flash of imagination. Of Mark, slowly walking her into the wall. Of Mark lacing his hands through her hair and pulling her closer. Of Mark pressing his lips to hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth.

“Hey.”

Helly snaps out of her thoughts, startled. She’s made it all the way to MDR without realizing it, and Mark is standing in front of her, holding out her mug of coffee.

“Hey. Thanks,” she says as she takes the mug from him, trying not to gasp when their fingers touch.

“Are you okay? Your face is all red.”

Helly blinks and quickly takes a sip of her coffee, made just the way she likes it. “Oh, just feeling a little warm today.”

She expects Mark to shrug and accept this, but instead his face grows worried as he looks at her. “It’s not warm down here. Do you think you have a fever?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine—” starts Helly, but the words die in her throat as Mark steps closer to her and places the back of his hand on her forehead. Her eyes close against her will and she feels Mark’s soft skin against her own, sliding down from her forehead to her cheek.

“Are you sure? You feel a little feverish,” says Mark. When she finally opens her eyes, Helly can see just how close his face is to hers.

Kiss Helly. Kiss Helly. Kiss Helly.

“I’m okay, honest,” whispers Helly.

“If you say so,” says Mark, though he doesn’t remove his hand from her face. He keeps it there, just looking at her, until Dylan walks in the room.

“What’s up, guys?”

Helly and Mark jump apart, Mark clearing his throat and he quickly walks away from her. All Helly can do is take another sip of her coffee as she walks over to her desk. When she sits down, she tries not to let her eyes drift over to Mark, who is focusing on his screen.

She shakes her head and tries to clear her thoughts. Why on earth would Mark like her of all people? He’s sweet and friendly to her because that’s just who Mark is. Someone who is always ready to help a friend or even help somebody that he barely knows. Because Mark is wonderful and kind and good, and Helly is just a problem. Just someone who has made Mark’s life harder since the day she woke up on that conference table and threw a speaker at his head.

Then she looks at him again and catches his eyes on her, which he quickly diverts back to his screen. He’s acting like Mark, but she can still see the fear and sadness swimming in his eyes.

Fuck it.

Helly downs the rest of her coffee and stands up, retrieving his list from under her keyboard and walking over to Mark.

“You want to take a mental health walk?” she asks.

Mark looks up at her and then at the clock. “Seems a little early.”

“No time like the present,” says Helly, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of his chair. “What are they gonna do, fire you?”

She can feel Irv’s and Dylan’s eyes on her as she pulls Mark out of MDR. She has a strong desire to let go of his wrist and take his hand instead, but she pushes it down, eventually letting his hand drop to his side. As they walk, the words keep running through her head. Kiss Helly, Kiss Helly, Kiss Helly.

“So why are you taking me to the goat room again?” asks Mark when he realizes just exactly where they are headed.

“You’ll see,” says Helly, giving him a grin. “Don’t worry. I always have a plan.”

“Yeah, I’ve long since learned that about you,” says Mark, shaking his head but smiling just the same.

Helly bites her lip and tries to suppress the smile on her face as they reach the door to the goat room. This time, however, there isn’t the screaming of baby goats coming out of the room. When they enter the room, it’s empty. Something heavy sinks into Helly’s gut.

“Shit,” she whispers, looking around the now clean room.

“You okay?” asks Mark, walking up behind her.

“Well, my plan…kinda needed a goat,” says Helly. Before she can turn and apologize to Mark, however, he’s kneeling down by a small opening in the far wall of the room that Helly hasn’t noticed.

“Where do you think this leads?” asks Mark as Helly kneels down next to him.

Helly doesn’t answer. Instead, she gets on her hands and knees and starts to crawl down the tunnel.

“Helly?”

“What?” she asks, craning her head to look behind her. For some reason, it looks like Mark is blushing. “Scared of some goat shit?”

Mark opens his mouth, then closes it with a shake of his head and follows her down the tunnel. Helly continues to crawl, avoiding the animal droppings around her, before coming to another entrance with a flap door. Before she can push it open, however, Mark squeezes next to her, so that the side of his body is pressed right against hers.

“Here,” he says before she can say anything, reaching forward to push open the flap door. As he leans forward, the side of his cheek just slides against hers. Helly tries not to shiver as she crawls out of the tunnel, before setting her feet down on soft grass.

Grass?

What the hell.

Helly looks up in awe as Mark climbs out beside her. Before them is what Helly can only describe as a rolling hill completely covered in goats. The two of them begin to walk gingerly, neither of them having ever felt such softness beneath their feet. It makes Helly almost stumble in her heels, until Mark gently grabs her arm.

“I’ve got you,” he says. Helly tries not to be distracted by the feeling of his fingers pressing into her sweater.

As they walk, the goats wander around them, grazing on grass while giving out the occasional bleat. Helly feels her heart swell as she looks at them. She hasn’t been sending them to their death after all.

“Wow,” she says, looking all around. “This place is kinda beautiful.”

“Yeah,” says Mark. “It is.”

When Helly turns to look at Mark, he quickly looks away from her. A tiny goat wanders up to the two of them and begins to chew on Helly’s skirt, causing Helly to burst out laughing. She kneels down to give the goat a scratch behind the ears. Its fur is surprisingly soft.

“I think he likes you,” says Mark, grinning down at her.

Before Helly can respond, a large, looming figure comes up over one of the hills, wielding what looks like an enormous pair of scissors. Mark follows Helly’s line of sight and quickly pulls her up by her arm and steps in front of her when he sees the tallest woman either of them has ever seen.

“Are you here to kill me?” she asks, holding the scissors above her head.

Helly is too stunned to speak, so Mark quickly takes over.

“No, no, no. I… sorry,” he says, putting up his hands. “Hi, I'm Mark.”

“I’m Helly,” she contributes.

“And we’re with Macrodata Refinement.”

The woman stares at the both of them, slowly lowering her scissors but still looking suspicious.

“What is this place?” asks Mark.

The woman tilts her head and takes a moment before speaking. “Mammalians Nurturable.”

Helly takes a breath and walks around Mark despite his protests, holding her hand out to the woman. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The woman simply stares at her hand.

“And your name is…?” asks Helly, still holding her hand out. She’s always been stubborn.

“Lorne.” The woman crosses her arms as she takes Helly in.

“We mean you no harm,” says Helly, putting her hand down. “We…you see my coworker Mark over there, he’s going to be retired in two weeks.”

Lorne looks over Helly’s shoulder at Mark, taking him in.

“I’m sorry,” Lorne says, though she still looks at Helly with suspicion. “But I don’t understand why you are here.”

“Well, one thing Mark really wants to do before retirement is walk a dog, but I don’t think there are any dogs on the severed floor,” says Helly, trying to sound friendly. “So, I was hoping he could maybe walk a goat?”

“Walk…a goat?” asks Lorne. “One of my goats?”

“Just around the room,” says Helly.

Lorne’s eyes look between Helly and Mark, still hard with suspicion.

“Please,” says Helly, lowering her voice. “Mark is my…friend, and I really want his last few days to be good. It would make him so happy. Please.”

Something softens in Lorne’s eyes, though she still doesn’t look like she trusts Helly. A tug on her skirt directs Helly’s view downward, seeing the same little goat chewing on the fabric again.

“Emile seems to like you,” says Lorne, her voice just slightly less aggressive.

“Emile? Is that his name?” asks Helly, leaning down to pet him again. “I like him too.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Helly can see other people starting to emerge. They must be more MN employees. She sees Lorne make eye contact with the man who had been feeding the baby goats, who gives her a nod.

“Very well,” she says. “You may walk Emile. For ten minutes.”

“Oh, thank you,” says Helly, standing up straight.

“We also just had a retirement. It doesn’t get easier,” says Lorne as she removes a small amount of rope from her belt and hands it to Helly. Helly quickly loops the rope around Emile’s neck, making sure the knot isn’t too tight, before guiding the animal back over to Mark.

“I know it’s not a dog, but will this do?” she asks, placing the rope in his hand.

Mark looks down at the goat and back up at Helly, something shining in his eyes. “Yeah. I think this will do.”

“Then let’s go,” she says, bumping her shoulder against his as they walk.

Mark doesn’t know what possesses him to drive to the grocery store after work. He rarely ever cooks something nice, and he usually buys his beer from the beer distributor since it’s cheaper. Still, he walks out of work with the strange desire to go there, filling his cart with food he usually doesn’t eat. Healthy things like fruits and veggies. He considers a jar of almonds, a snack he enjoys, but decides against it.

When he passes the chocolate bars, he finds himself putting one in his cart, even though he doesn’t eat it often. But he knows this chocolate is good and doesn’t have writing or shapes on the bar or the foil surrounding it. You know. For another after work snack.

As Mark S. completes his morning duties, he can’t help his eyes from drifting to MDR’s entrance, hoping for a glimpse of red hair. He only spends a few minutes in the morning without Helly, but those minutes feel like hours. When she walks into the room, he enjoys the way his heart flutters and how a smile stretches on his face, facial muscles burning from lack of use.

Stop it. You can’t get caught up in that. It’s not fair to her.

The voice in his head that sounds like his own, just more scolding and harsh. It’s silenced, however, by the happy buzzing in his ears when Helly walks in.

“Hey boss,” says Helly as she accepts her coffee.

“Hey,” responds Mark, trying not to stare at Helly’s top lip as it wraps around the rim of the mug. “I think I can still smell the goats from yesterday.”

“Good,” says Helly, lowering her mug to grin at him. “Let your outie wonder what the hell is going on down here.”

“I thought the idea was to get my outie to not quit,” says Mark as they sit down at their desks.

“Hmm. You’re right,” says Helly as she turns on her monitor. “We’ll have to send you up smelling like flowers. Or fresh baked cookies.”

“I don’t know what either of those smell like,” says Mark with a chuckle.

“Neither do I,” responds Helly in a soft, sad voice that makes Mark’s heart clench.

Stop it. Don’t be selfish, the voice whispers in his ear.

“Umm,” says Mark as he looks up at the very tall rope course in the team building space. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Hanging before him is the tallest ladder that Mark has ever seen, hanging from the ceiling by ropes, thick logs hovering in between the ropes acting as the rungs. Helly is behind him setting up some Lumon brand automatic belayers. Usually, Dylan and Irv would have done the job, but they both had shook their heads when Helly asked them to come, both wanting to focus on refining.

“You said that you wanted to climb a mountain,” says Helly, coming up to him and pushing a white helmet on top of his head. “This is the closest we’ve got.”

Mark looks up as he takes his jacket off, trying not to feel woozy at just how high up the ladder goes. “We don’t need to cross off everything on the list.”

“Yes,” says Helly as she snaps her own helmet on and kicks off her heels. “We do.”

Helly sounds so determined that all Mark can do is walk over to the bottom of the ladder, tugging at his rope to make sure it’s tight and secure. When Helly stands next to him, he gives her rope a tug as well, just to be safe.

“Okay,” says Helly. “We just need to help each other on the way up. That’s what the instructions say.”

Mark swallows and gives Helly one last look before they begin to climb. It’s less difficult than he thought it would be, though he can tell his outie is out of shape. Helly’s outie must work out because he can see the muscles straining in her arms as she climbs and the sweat starting to shine on her skin.

Stop looking at her arms, you pervert.

“I’m just making sure she’s okay,” Mark whispers to himself.

“What was that?” asks Helly, panting from the exertion.

“Nothing,” says Mark quickly.

They continue to climb, Mark huffing and puffing, until they get to a log that is just out of Helly’s reach.

“I’ll have to climb on you,” says Helly.

“Excuse me?” responds Mark.

“Let me climb on your knee, otherwise I can’t reach,” she says, reaching up with her hand as high as she can reach.

Mark licks his lip before angling his leg so she can step on his thigh, one hand clinging to the rope behind him, the other reaching out for her hand. He tries not to wobble as she climbs up on him, but she does, slightly losing her footing, forcing Mark to let go of Helly’s hand and wrap his free arm around her legs.

“You okay?” he asks, resolutely refusing to look up at her, knowing that he could see up her skirt if he did so. He tries not to focus on the feel of her legs through her pantyhose.

“I’m okay,” responds Helly, managing to reach the next log and pull herself up.

They finally get to the top rung of the ladder, where both Mark and Helly sit and look out over the team building space. Mark’s never been up so high before, and it’s exhilarating.

“Wow,” he says softly. “We did it. We climbed a mountain.”

He looks over at Helly, expecting her usual grin, but Helly instead is looking straight down at the floor, her face a little green.

“Helly?”

“Yeah?” she responds, not looking at him.

“You okay?” he asks.

Helly doesn’t nod or shake her head. She just continues to look at the floor.

“It’s, uh…well it was easy to climb up here but now that I’m looking down…”

Mark can see her shoulders shaking. Not giving himself a moment to talk himself out of it, Mark scoots over and wraps his arm around Helly’s shoulders, pulling her to him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “You’re not going to get hurt. I would never let it happen, remember?”

“Yeah?” she says, her shaking starting to lessen.

“I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall.”

Mark means it so sincerely that he forgets, just for a moment, that his promise is impossible. That there will be a day when he can no longer catch her, and that day is rapidly approaching. As this truth sinks into his gut, Helly’s shaking finally stops.

“Thanks Mark,” she says quietly. She doesn’t move to scootch away from him. If anything, she leans into him a little closer, enough for Mark to realize there is something pushing against him in his pants pocket. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to stop touching Helly, but whatever is in his pocket is pushing painfully into his hip.

He unwraps his arm from Helly and reaches in to reveal two little squares of chocolate.

“Wow. Your outie must really like snacks,” says Helly, a smile finally forming on her face again.

“Yeah,” says Mark as he places one of the squares in Helly’s hand. “He really must.”

The two sit in silence as they eat their treat, Helly sighing as the chocolate melts on her tongue, Mark trying not to stare at a smudge of chocolate on the side of Helly’s mouth. He’s not doing a very good job of it.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah,” says Mark, reaching over and swiping the smudge off of her skin with his thumb. “Got it.”

He doesn’t remove his hand, though. He continues to stroke his thumb near the corner of Helly’s mouth, feeling her smooth skin. She’s looking at him, her eyes wide, and he’s looking at her, and maybe if he just leaned in just a little closer—

“Hey! You two!”

Mark almost falls off the ladder as he jumps, Dylan’s voice cutting through the tension like a knife. Helly grabs his arm to steady him before the two look down to see Dylan with a very annoyed look on his face.

“You guys cannot just fuck off all day and leave me and Irv with all the refining.”

“We invited you along,” calls out Helly before reaching up to press the button on the ceiling that will allow them to belay down. As they prepare for their descent, Mark notices Helly looking green again.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out for her hand. “I’ve got you.”

Helly can only smile at him and grasp his hand tightly as the two step off the log to begin their descent.

As Mark Scout starts pulling out ingredients to make an actual meal for once in his life, a knock on his door startles him. He looks up from his fridge, confused. Devon always texts before coming over, and Mrs. Selvig’s car wasn’t in the driveway. He doesn’t know anyone else who would come to his door.

He looks out his peephole and sees to his shock Mr. Milchick standing on his stoop with a large fruit basket in his arms. He hasn’t seen this man in person since the day he got severed.

“Mr. Milchick?” Mark says as he opens the door.

“Good evening Mr. Scout,” Milchick responds with a grin that Mark can’t tell is sincere or not. “May I come in?”

Mark pauses for a moment before allowing the man inside. Having Milchick here feels wrong in some way.

“Can I ask what this is about?” Mark asks as Milchick places the fruit basket on the table.

“Well, Mr. Scout, I’ll be straight with you. Lumon is hoping that you reconsider this job change. The basket is compliments of the company.”

Mark blinks. “Reconsider?”

“Yes,” says Milchick, making himself comfortable on one of Mark’s chairs. “You are a very valuable employee, Mr. Scout.”

“Am I?” asks Mark.

“Yes,” says Mr. Milchick. “You and your innie have made yourselves invaluable at Lumon, and we hope to keep you, if at all possible.”

Mark takes a moment before he joins Mr. Milchick at the dining room table. He can feel all desire to cook a good meal quickly slipping away.

“I'd like to ask you a few questions that may inform your decision, if that’s alright,” says Mr. Milchick.

“Sure,” says Mark. It’s not as if he had anything better to do.

“Terrific,” says Milchick with a grin. “Now, how happy are you with your current financial compensation? I ask because our endearment to you is such that a 20% bump is on the table, should you return, along with a week of extra vacation days.”

Mark blinks and feels his hands get clammy. That’s more money than he’s ever made in his life.

“Wow,” he whispers.

Mr. Milchick smiles at Mark’s response before leaning forward, his face forming into a more neutral expression.

“My other question concerns your late wife, Gemma.”

Mark feels something horrible twist in his gut. “What about her?”

“In your intake interview, you cited her death as a primary motivator for severing. That since she died, every day feels like a year. That you felt like you were choking on her ghost.”

Mark forces himself to breathe as Milchick recites what he had said two years ago.

“Do you still feel that way, Mr. Scout?” asks Milchick.

Mark stands up, taking a deep breath, his heart racing, waves of guilt starting to wash over him.

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Milchick, it’s been a long day,” says Mark, not looking at the man. “And I appreciate what you’re doing, but this really isn’t about money. It’s like I said on the phone. It’s about a life change. It’s just what I need.”

“Of course,” says Milchick, standing up and walking to the door. “I do hope you consider our offer.”

Mark watches as Milchick turns the doorknob, but the man turns and looks at him before leaving.

“You know, the Mark I've come to know at Lumon is happy. He cares for people and he's funny. He knows nothing of the pain I see in you right now.”

Mark stares at him, not knowing what to say. The idea of his innie caring for people is enough to throw him for a loop, not to mention the idea of him having a personality.

“The solace you have given him down there will make its way to you. I wonder if it already has,” says Milchick, giving Mark a nod before opening the door and leaving.

As Mark listens to the hum of Milchick’s motorcycle fade into the distance, all he can do is grab a beer and collapse on the couch, his dinner forgotten. Wave after wave of guilt crashes over him as he drinks, because it’s true. His depression is getting better. He doesn’t feel like he’s drowning anymore. He no longer feels like that tangled knot of grief and anger and sadness. He doesn’t believe in Milchick’s idea that his job has anything to do with it, but it’s still happening. He’s moving on. Gemma’s gone and here he is, feeling happy again and moving on with his life.

As he falls asleep on the couch, he forces himself to picture Gemma’s face, but as he surrenders to unconsciousness, he swears he sees a wisp of shocking red hair.

“Come on,” Helly says, pulling Mark by the wrist down the endless white hallways.

“Hey, slow down,” says Mark with a chuckle. “What’s the rush?”

The rush is that she never thought she would be able to check this particular desire of his off the list until Irv had pulled her aside in the kitchen to mention a special room Burt had taken him too. Her heart is racing as she pulls him, which she tells herself is just excitement for her friend. It has absolutely nothing to do with touching him or finding another reason to be alone with him.

Kiss Helly, Kiss Helly, Kiss Helly.

Helly shakes the thoughts out of her head as they reach a room with the word PLANTS on the wall next to it.

“Where are we?” asks Mark as Helly finally releases his wrist.

“Well, you said you wanted to walk through a forest, right?” asks Helly as she pushes the door open.

This surprise is for Mark, but even Helly can’t help but let out a gasp when they walk inside. There’s more green surrounding her than she’s ever seen in her life. The room smells alive, of dirt and water and something fresh, something that you simply can’t fake.

“Oh my god, Helly,” says Mark, softly. “How did you…”

“Irv told me about it,” says Helly, feeling sadness twist in her gut as she remembers the sad look on Irv’s face. “Burt took him here, apparently.”

“Wow,” says Mark as he walks through the room, allowing his hands to drift over the leaves gently.

He’s always so gentle, Helly thinks as she watches him, thinking about his thumb on her face yesterday. He isn’t just gentle with me.

“This is…you’re amazing, really,” says Mark as Helly joins him in the middle of the room, where the plant life is so lush that she can’t even see the door. There’s nothing here but wildness and Mark. Her and Mark, alone, together.

Helly feels her mouth go dry and her chest flutter at Mark’s compliment. “I’m just doing what any friend would do.”

“I…I don’t think just anyone would do this,” whispers Mark, looking all around, his face flushed. “I’ve seen a few retirements and it never even occurred to me to do this.”

Helly swallows and forces a smile on her face as she turns to face him. “So, you wouldn’t have done this for me?”

Her tone is deliberately cheeky and teasing, but Mark’s face falls as she says it, his eyes going wide and his face going pale. “You…you’re different,” he says, looking down at the floor. “I don’t know what I would have done, but I would have done something.”

Helly’s heart beats faster now, thumping hard against her chest. “Yeah?” she asks quietly, taking a step toward him.

“Yeah,” responds Mark with a sad smile. There’s something dancing in his eyes as he looks at her, something she just can’t place.

Kiss Helly, Kiss Helly, Kiss Helly.

It’s the smell of the earth and rain in here that’s making her head fuzzy. That has to be it. It simply can’t be the way that Mark is looking at her. It simply can’t be how being so close to him in such a private room makes her desperately want to kiss him.

“Helly?” he asks, her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

Even now, knowing his life is ending, and he still cares about her. He still checks in on her and wants to make sure that she’s alright. Helly simply can’t take it anymore.

So, instead of answering, Helly steps into Mark’s personal space, grabs his lapel, and presses a gentle kiss on his lips.

She’s never kissed anyone before, never been kissed by anyone before, so she hopes and prays that this one is good. Mark is frozen against her, and when she pulls away, she sees his eyes are wide with shock. A horrible feeling drops into her gut. What if he ripped off that last item on his list because he realized he didn’t want that at all?

“I…oh god, I’m sorry,” says Helly, taking a step back, her whole face feeling like it’s on fire. “I…I found your ripped up paper and what you wrote and…”

“You found that?” asks Mark, his eyes still wide, his face unreadable.

“I just wanted to…I wanted to make sure you…oh god, I’m so sorry,” says Helly, practically babbling now, as she turns away from him.

Except as she turns, Mark’s hand shoots out and gently grabs her arm, pulling her back to him. Before Helly realizes what’s happening, before she even has a moment to think, Mark’s lips are on hers.

There’s an explosion in her chest, lights dancing behind her closed eyes as Mark deepens the kiss, pulling her flush against him, his hands coming up to rest at the sides of her face, her arms wrapping around his neck.

She doesn’t need confirmation. She just knows that this kiss is good. Where the one she gave was quick and chaste, this one is deeper, hungrier, more desperate. It feels like bolts of lightning are shooting down into her lower stomach, and when Mark gently pushes his tongue into her mouth, Helly moans.

“Helly…” Mark murmurs against her lips. His hands slide into her hair, causing Helly to shiver.

“Mark…” whispers Helly, finally pulling away for air, her eyes still closed, the two of them panting, their foreheads resting against each other. “I—”

“Helly? Mark?”

The two of them jump away from each other, Irv’s voice breaking through the haze both of them were in.

“Yeah?” says Mark with a croak, turning away from Helly to adjust his pants.

“I told them you went to get pen caps, but Cobel has sent word that you’re to go to Wellness,” calls out Irv.

“Oh,” says Mark, turning back to look at Helly, who is still trying to catch her breath. “Thanks Irv.”

They listen as the door closes again, unable to look away from each other.

“I should probably—” starts Mark.

“You should get to—” says Helly at the same time.

They both continue to stare at each other before Mark motions with his head that they should probably leave.

“See you in a bit,” he whispers, not looking her in the eyes.

They part at the doorway, Mark heading to Wellness, Helly to MDR. Despite everything, despite the deep confusion brewing inside of her, Helly can’t help but feel a happy smile spread over her face.

Mark Scout leaves work feeling giddy. He can’t remember the last time anything made him feel that way. It makes his body feel like it’s vibrating, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel, a stupid grin that he simply can’t shake off his face.

He arrives home and decides to text Devon, inviting her out for dinner. Not for any particular reason. Just because he feels like it. Hell, she can even bring Ricken if she wants.

He changes out of his work clothes and into some of his nicer casual wear, jeans without holes and a blue sweater that Devon swore brought out his eyes, when he hears a knock at his door. He looks at the time. Devon is much earlier than he expected.

“You were quick, m’lord,” he says as he opens the door. The person standing in front of him, however, is not his sister. It’s not even his brother-in-law. The person standing in front of him, looking bemused at his greeting, is a person he’s only seen in magazines or on TV. Her hair is much more red in person, and she’s very, very pretty.

“Good evening, Mr. Scout,” she says, holding out her hand. “My name is Helena Eagan, I work at Lumon. May I come in?”

Chapter Text

Helena Eagan does not know if she thrives on routine because she’s never been given the choice not to have one.

The choice of needing routine or not would make one a person, and Helena had long ago stopped seeing herself as a person. She was not Helena, a grown woman with needs and desires of her own, and she was not Helly, the child who used to cuddle in her mother’s lap. She was Helena Eagan, leader-in-waiting of Lumon, a figurehead, a symbol, a tool. She was everything that Lumon was expected to be, everything her father demanded her to be, and rigorous routine was needed to shape her into that mold.

When she was a child, she would be woken up at 6AM every day by a nanny, before being bathed and dressed and marched down to breakfast to drink her raw eggs in milk with her parents, and later just her father. When she was a preteen and started swimming, she would wake up at 4AM for her hour of exercise before showering and being marched down to her raw eggs in milk. Then she would spend eight hours in private lessons before being fed dinner and put to bed.

Now at thirty, she still has the same routine, except now she works instead of having lessons, and many years ago she managed to switch out the raw eggs with a hard boiled one. Her father had been disappointed in her, but she had been used to that for a long time now.

So, when her father had told her that she would become severed in order to help sell the procedure to the world, Helena had felt a thrill under the fear that had clutched at her heart. There would be a part of her day that would be completely, utterly, and entirely different. She just would have no memory of it.

At the end of her first day, her head still aching and feeling disoriented, she walked through the parking lot and was almost hit by a car. The man inside looked at her with no recognition, just the generally startled face of someone who was very much not paying attention. Maybe keep your eyes on the icy road indeed.

Later, she would look back at the moment and see it for what it was: an omen.

Most days Helena comes out of the severed floor with a lingering sense of rage or despair, feelings that she learns to dissipate with deep breathing and a stiff drink in her office. The alcohol calms her and helps her forget that she’s somehow working two jobs, lets her forget about how cold and silent the Eagan estate will be when she finally gets home, lets her forget the way that extension cord felt as it tightened around her throat.

Sometimes she drinks a little too much and pulls up that security footage from her laptop. The footage that was deleted from all official records. The footage where she sees Mark Scout save her from the elevator, leaning over her body and begging to know if she’s alright. Well, not her, exactly. Her innie. And he wasn’t Mark Scout, not exactly. She doesn’t know what messes with her head more, the alcohol or the fact that this random severed employee cared that much about her. No, not her. Her innie.

While in recovery from Helly’s hanging, Helena had looked up Mark Scout’s employee file. This is fine, normal even. She had been given files for everyone in MDR before going down, though she hadn’t bothered to look at them at the time. Mark’s file told her that he’s forty-two, had been a professor at Ganz University, and had severed due to the loss of his wife, Gemma. What she’s not supposed to do is look Mark up online and see if there’s anything else she can learn about him. All she could find were a few papers he published and Gemma’s obituary. She really was so young.

But today, she comes up feeling light. A strange flutter in her chest and a smile on her face, using muscles that she hasn’t used in a long time. A lifetime of taming her tempers has smoothed her face into a neutral position, a useful skill for whenever she’s in a Lumon boardroom or interacting with her father.

With the exception of that one awful day, she doesn’t look at the security footage on the severed floor. It’s too weird. Too unsettling to see a version of herself walk around and act like a person when she knows that part of her isn’t. But she makes an exception today.

She pours herself a vodka on rocks and brings up the security footage. She watches as her innie and the others attempt a rope course, watches as two of the innies lift Helly’s body up and try to push her through. Continues to watch as they drop her and Mark (God, is it always Mark?) catches her, the two landing in a pile on the floor. She zooms in when her innie doesn’t immediately get off of Mark, laying on top of him, her hand on his chest. The way that Mark looks at Helly makes her stomach twist. It almost looks like he’s looking at something precious.

She fast forwards, unable to keep watching, and comes to her innie and Mark walking through the hallways together, just talking, laughing, bumping shoulders. Helena touches her shoulder when she sees that, trying to feel the phantom sensation. Nobody walks so close to her or so casually around her that they would bump against her body.

Then the innies stop and turn to each other, and Helena watches with fascination as her innie steps into Mark’s space and wraps her arms around him in a hug. Mark responds almost immediately, hugging her back, his head on her shoulder, his face dangerously close to Helly’s hair. He looks so relaxed and so happy, even with his eyes closed.

Helena feels her throat go thick. How on earth had her innie gone from trying to kill herself to…this? How on earth could her innie hug so easily a man she’s only known for a few weeks? And why did Mark seem to care so much about her?

Helena feels an ache of longing in her chest as she wraps her own arms around herself, squeezing lightly, trailing her own fingers up and down her arms. She cannot remember the last time she’s been hugged. Her father was not a hugger, and her mother had died when she was five. The men who she occasionally let fuck her were not ones for staying around and cuddling. They barely seemed to know about foreplay, let alone aftercare.

She leaves her arms wrapped around herself as the innies release each other, goofy grins on their faces as they continue to walk down the hallway. She digs her nails into her skin. Just so she can feel something.

She doesn’t mean to see Mark Scout leaving work. She had come up the elevator before him and had realized that she had forgotten her non-severed watch in her locker right as she arrived at her office. So, when she heads back down the stairs and sees him leaving the locker room, her first instinct is to practically jump behind a pillar.

She feels incredibly stupid as she hides there, peeking out from the side of the pillar so she can watch him leave. He’s gotten a haircut since she last saw him on the security camera. It looks…nice. He looks nice.

For one wild moment, she considers walking outside and pretending to run into him. Just to thank him for saving her, even if she couldn’t actually tell him that. He might not even know who she is. The commercials haven’t been out for very long at this point.

Before this thought can take too much root in her brain, her phone lights up with a DING. A text from Natalie, summoning her to an urgent meeting.

When she gets to the boardroom, she’s greeted by Natalie, Drummond, Harmony Cobel, and Seth Milchick. She hasn’t had a chance to change out of her innie clothes, and she instantly misses the aura her pantsuits give her. Right now she should look like Helena Eagan, but instead she only looks like Helly R. An innie. An inferior.

“Helena, so glad you could join us,” says Natalie, smiling at her. Helena thinks that if she was wearing one of her suits and had her hair up, they would have waited for her to speak first, or at least wait for her to sit down in one of the chairs.

“Is someone going to tell me what this is about?” Helena asks.

The rest of them look at each other before looking at her. Helena feels the deep shame of being the only one in the room without important information.

“Mark Scout has tendered his resignation,” says Cobel as Helena finally sits down.

Her chest aches and her stomach twists. “Oh.”

For a moment she imagines her innie and sees the smile she had on her face after hugging Mark. She thinks about how she felt coming up out of the elevator today: a flutter of confusion in her chest combined with the taste of caramel in her mouth. She bites her bottom lip and tries to shake the image out of her head. “I don’t understand why a meeting had to be called about this.”

The four people surrounding her give each other a look before Cobel speaks again.

“Mark S. is crucial to Lumon’s work. After he completes this file, his next will be Cold Harbor. It’s the completion of a two-year long project.”

Helena takes a moment to compose her face, so that she doesn’t look like she’s the only one here who doesn’t know the details of Cold Harbor. She’s used to this, being kept in the dark, only being given small amounts of information when needed, but she’s never been in a room of people who knew more than her while technically being below her in the hierarchy. That’s a new low.

“Why can’t one of the other refiners complete the project?” asks Helena.

Cobel’s mouth goes tight. “It has to be Mark S. None of the other refiners will complete this project as effectively as he will.”

Helena sighs, an ache forming behind her eyes. She just wants to change out of these innie clothes and go home. She wants to climb into bed and let oblivion take her. She wants to stop imagining her innie suddenly alone on the floor, deprived of the one thing that seems to make her happy.

“Did he say why he was leaving?” asks Helena.

“He’s been offered a position at Dieter Community College,” responds Milchick.

Helena blinks. That was not the answer she expected. The top salary for a professor there wouldn’t even be half of what Mark Scout is making currently.

“Offer him a twenty percent raise and more vacation time,” says Helena before standing up, the others rising as she does so. At least they are pretending that she has some power here.

The days go by. Helena doesn’t look at the security footage again, but her hands practically twitch with the desire to do so. She goes down the elevator feeling nothing and comes up feeling the dregs of emotions that aren’t hers, some too small or far away for her to name. Just leftovers like the fluttering of her heart, or a lonely ache in her gut.

Today is different, though. She comes up the elevator grinning so widely that it makes her cheeks hurt, and she swears she can feel something tingling on her lips. Like the aftereffects of the faint kiss of a ghost.

She doesn’t have much time to think about this feeling though before Natalie accosts her as she leaves the severed locker room, informing her that she’s been summoned to a meeting with her father.

Whatever happy feelings Helly had been feeling get shoved down deep into the pit of Helena’s stomach. Once again, she doesn’t have the time to change, but her father seems to prefer her in Helly’s clothes anyway. He’s always wrinkled his nose at her pantsuits.

When she walks into the boardroom, the air around her feels cold. Her father already sits along with Drummond and Harmony Cobel, who has several spreadsheets placed in front of her.

“Good evening, Helena,” her father rasps as she sits down. “So good of you to finally join us.”

Helena keeps her eyes down at the table, simply nodding her head. “Father.”

Her father does not respond to her. Instead, he looks again at Harmony Cobel, nodding at her to continue.

“Despite the raise and other accommodations offered, Mark Scout has still refused to stay on at Lumon,” says Cobel. “It appears this new job is not due to financial concerns or moving to a new location. It is simply due to…personal development.” Cobel’s mouth goes thin again as she says it. “Mark Scout took a severed job due to the severe grief and depression over the loss of his wife. He seems to be overcoming that, hence the new job.”

Helena bites her lip. It’s clear that Mark Scout’s personal growth is seen by Cobel as an obstacle, a hinderance. She can’t help but feel a little glad that the man is emerging from the deep well of his grief.

“What do you suggest?” asks her father.

A smirk crawls up Cobel’s face, leaving Helena with a cold feeling in her gut.

“My suggestion is a bit…unorthodox,” Cobel says as she slides copies of her spreadsheets to everyone at the table. “As you know, we monitor the affections index for all the innies, to see how well they are adapting to life on the severed floor. The highest affection an innie can have is 100.”

Helena very much did not know that, but she keeps her face composed.

“In addition to a general index score, we also track individual scores. For example, Irving B. is in the high 60s for the group as a whole, but has a personal score of 75 from the innie Dylan G.”

Helena feels something tingle at the back of her brain, but keeps her mouth shut.

“Mark S.’s affection for Dylan G. and Irving B. are 66 and 68, respectively. His affection for Petey K. was 77. And his affection for Helly R.,” says Cobel, finally looking at Helena, “is at 93.”

Helena blinks, her mouth going dry. She knew that Mark’s innie cared about her innie, but she didn’t know that his affection was that strong. She looks down at her spreadsheet, which confirms what Cobel has said.

“What are you saying?” says her father, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “That we disregard Kier’s teachings and allow the innies to fraternize? To rut on the floor like the animals they are?”

Helena feels suddenly sick to her stomach. She is not her innie and her innie is not her, but any rutting would be using her body.

“Not at all,” says Cobel coolly. The tightness in Helena’s chest temporarily lessens. “Nothing transcends the severance barrier. But, if Mark S. has developed such an affection for Helly R., to the point that they have both protested his resignation, then I don’t see why the same couldn’t happen outside the severed floor.”

Helena feels her eyes go wide, her cool, collected façade falling away. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Cobel leans back in her chair, giving Helena a look that makes her want to shiver. She wonders if this is the look she gives her innie every day on the severed floor.

“I believe that Ms. Eagan here is the best chance we have of getting Mark Scout to stay on at Lumon. We might convince him to stay if she…socialized with him outside of work.”

Helena feels a surge of shame and anger rush through her body. She can’t believe what she’s hearing. They want to pimp her out to keep one employee from leaving. She slams her hands on the table and opens her mouth to protest, when—

“Tame yourself, Helena,” her father says calmly.

It’s like ice water has been thrown over her once she hears her father’s voice. She lowers her hands and forces her feelings back down into her stomach, churning and sloshing around so that they give her a stomach ache.

“I wish to speak with my daughter,” says her father. The meeting is concluded. Helena watches as the rest of them leave the room, leaving only the cold, disappointed eyes of her father staring at her.

“Cold Harbor is going to usher in a new chapter at Lumon,” her father says, staring her down. “It is going to change the world as we know it, and is the single most important project that we are currently working on. As an Eagan, it is your duty to do whatever necessary to allow this to happen.”

“Father…” starts Helena, her voice almost pleading.

“We cannot lose Mark Scout.”

The way he looks at her tells Helena that this decision is final. She looks down at the table, closing in on herself, letting her emotions fall away. She is not a person. She is a tool for her father to use as he sees fit. A tool who will not complain about being forced to use her body for the good of Lumon. She already does it from 9-5 every day. What’s so different about this?

Helena runs her fingers through her hair as she sits in her car parked outside of Mark Scout’s house, trying to steady her breathing. She shouldn’t feel nervous about this. She’s Helena Eagan for fuck’s sake. No low level Lumon employee should ever make her feel nervous.

She opens her purse again, just to check that she has everything that she might need. A company checkbook. Lipstick. Her cell phone. A condom.

With a final deep breath, she gets out of the car and walks up to his door before the screaming in her brain overwhelms her. She knocks on the door and waits, deciding to give him a minute before she runs back to the car.

“You were quick, m’lord.”

The door opens to reveal him, him, the man who saved her life and has no idea he did so. Taking him in close up, without the protection of a screen in front of her, makes something drop into her stomach. His eyes shine in a way she never noticed before, and the swoop of his hair makes something inside of her chest flutter. He is very, very handsome.

“Good evening, Mr. Scout,” she says quickly, holding out her hand. “My name is Helena Eagan, I work at Lumon. May I come in?”

Mark stares down at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, reaching over to weakly grab her hand before he finally steps aside and lets her walk into his house.

His house is clean but bare, not much different than how these houses look when they’re initially sold or rented out to people. It makes Helena a little sad to see how he lives, imagining him surrounded by empty white walls instead of pictures or bookshelves or art. It’s clear this is just a place that he comes to eat and sleep and not much else. It reminds her of the Eagan estate, in a strange way.

“It’s really nice to meet you, by the way,” says Helena before Mark can speak, turning around to face him. If she’s the one talking then she has the upper hand. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about your work.”

“Thank you,” says Mark, looking surprised that he’s found his voice. “I’ve heard nothing at all about my work.”

Helena lets out an unexpected chuckle. “Severance humor. So clever.”

“And so easy,” replies Mark with a small smile.

Fuck. She hadn’t expected him to be funny and easy to talk to. It’s thrown her completely off balance, put cracks in the cool, aloof businesswoman façade she had been trying on.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be rude,” says Mark as he finally closes the door, holding his hand out to take her coat, “but I can’t figure out why Helena Eagan of all people has just walked into my house.”

Helena bites her lip. She has her hair down like Helly, but she had drawn the line at wearing Helly’s clothes. Instead, she had changed into one of her softer suits, still feminine enough to show off her figure but more comfortable than those godawful pencil skirts.

“May I?” she asks, gesturing to the couch.

Mark pauses for a moment before nodding, joining her in the living room, sitting across from her on one of his large chairs. She sits how she is supposed to: legs tight together, ankles crossed, back straight, hands folded. Mark hovers by the couch, his hands in his pockets, clearly flustered.

“Would you like a drink?” he suddenly asks. “I have…beer. And water.”

“Oh. Uh, no thank you,” says Helena, twisting her hands nervously. Alcohol would calm her nerves, but it implies that she’ll be here for longer than she needs to be. If she can figure this out without resorting to certain…measures, all the better for both of them. She watches as he finally sits down, looking just as nervous and uncomfortable as she feels.

“So,” says Mark, finally looking up at her. “Helena Eagan. In my house.”

Despite everything, a small smile can’t help but appear on her face. She tries to shake off the fluttering in her chest as she recites what she was told to say. “I’m here because you are a very valuable employee, Mr. Scout.”

“Oh,” says Mark, and Helena swears his face falls for a moment. She watches as he quickly rearranges his face. “I’m valuable, huh?”

Helena bites her lip, trying not to let out the giggle that’s making its way up her throat. “Well…Lumon values all of its employees, but your…your innie’s work has become extremely important to us, Mr. Scout.”

“Really?” asks Mark, leaning forward a little. “Working in corporate archives?”

Shit. She hadn’t thought about this. She was so used to the grind of Lumon that she forgot that all other severed employees had no idea what they actually did.

“Your innie has been…spearheading an important project. Losing him…losing you would be a great loss to his team, as well as Lumon.”

She finds it hard to look Mark in the eye, as he’s staring at her pretty intently, as if he’s trying to place something.

“Have we…met before?” he asks.

Helena opens her mouth and closes it again. It would be impossible for him to remember her. It has to be. “No, I don’t believe so. Though I get that a lot since the TV commercials started airing.”

Mark nods, but he’s still looking at her intensely, as if he doesn’t quite believe her.

“I’m here to ask if there’s anything at all that I…that Lumon could provide that would convince you to stay,” she says, the words tumbling out of her more quickly than she intended.

He’s still looking at her as if he can’t figure her out, and Helena feels white hot shame at how bad this is going course through her. Of course it’s going badly, a voice whispers in her head. Why on earth would you think that your brains are of more use than your body?

“Lumon doesn’t give up when they want something, huh?” says Mark with a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“We can be very persistent,” replied Helena, smiling in spite of herself.

She watches as Mark bites his lip before he stands up and walks to the fridge, grabbing two beers. Helena can hear the pulse of her heart pounding in her ears as he returns and hands her one. She swallows before taking it, wrapping her hand around the cold can. Is this his way of starting the process of getting what he really wants from her?

“I realize,” starts Mark, taking a sip of his beer, “that this new job is a major pay cut and comes with a lot of inconveniences. But…I think that’s kind of the point. When my wife died, I couldn’t handle the inconveniences like I used to, and now I…I don’t know. It’s like I miss them. Things like a long commute and grading student papers and office hours. And then there’s teaching itself. I really miss it.”

He takes another sip before looking up at her. “Do you get that, Ms. Eagan?”

“Helena,” she responds. “Please call me Helena.”

Mark smiles at her. “Only if you call me Mark. Mr. Scout was my father.”

Helena feels a comfortable warmth bloom inside of her. She cracks the can open and takes a sip of the beer. It’s not as bad as she thought it would be.

“Mark,” she says, like she’s rolling his name around in her mouth. “Mark.”

“Helena,” he replies, smiling at her.

They sit for a moment in silence, something thick and tense vibrating between them. Helena’s only taken a sip of beer, but she swears the room has gone a bit fuzzy.

“I do get it,” she whispers, looking down at the beer in her hands. “It’s…a life change. Something you need to do.”

She bites her lip again before looking up at him. His face has softened, but she doesn’t know if that’s because of the beer.

“Yeah,” says Mark. “That’s exactly it.”

“Are you…” starts Helena, suddenly stumbling over her words. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I could offer that would get you to stay? At least to complete the project?”

She should be leaning forward, unbuttoning her shirt, giving him a flash of her leg. Anything to indicate what she’s really supposed to be offering. She simply can’t though. It feels like her body has frozen up.

“How long will the project last?” asks Mark.

“Unsure. Several weeks at the minimum,” responds Helena.

Mark actually looks a little sad when she says that. “I’m sorry. The college really needs me to start as soon as possible. I already have some lesson plans typed out.”

Helena smiles again, imagining him hunched over a typewriter, his fingers moving excitedly between the keys. “I understand.”

She’s going to regret this when she gets home. She’s going to have to report another failure to her father and she’s going to have to spend God knows how long in the compunction room. But all of that pales to the idea of snuffing the spark she just saw dancing behind his eyes when he talked about lesson planning. She simply can’t bring herself to put it out.

She stands up, placing her beer on the coffee table, and pulls a business card out of her purse, handing it to him. “Well, if there’s anything I can do that would change your mind, please call me, Mr.…Mark.”

Mark smiles sadly at her as he takes the card from her hand. When his fingers graze hers, however, she swears she feels a spark of electricity shoot up her arm. Something about him feels intensely familiar. What’s worse, she swears that he’s looking up at her with the same idea etched into his face.

Helena clears her throat and forces herself to step away, startling both her and Mark out of whatever had been holding them hostage just now. He stands up and follows her to the door, handing her coat to her and opening the door.

“Please do call me if you ever change your mind,” says Helena as she drifts past him, their shoulders grazing against each other. She swears the contact tingles under her coat.

“The parking lot.”

Helena turns, confused. Mark is looking at her with sudden recognition on his face.

“I almost hit you with my car, in the Lumon parking lot.”

Helena blinks. Maybe keep your eyes on the icy road. It had been hard to see into the front window of that car, but she can’t see a reason for him to know about that otherwise. There was almost no one left in the lot.

“Oh,” says Helena, unsure how to respond.

“I…I am so sorry,” says Mark, his eyes pleading.

“It’s…well, you didn’t hit me. Just don’t make a habit of it,” responds Helena.

“Don’t make a habit of not hitting you with my car?” asks Mark, his eyebrow raised.

Helena snorts, before her eyes go wide and her hand flies up to her mouth in embarrassment. Eagan’s don’t make such undignified sounds. Her father would consider it uncouth. Mark, however, is grinning at her, his eyes sparking again.

“I think I wouldn’t be allowed back if I kept doing that,” says Mark with a chuckle.

“Yeah, no amount of corporate archive work can make up for flattening the future CEO like a pancake,” says Helena, a smile breaking out on her face. Mark lets out a huff of a laugh, tilting his head as if he is studying her. Helena feels her heart pounding again, but it’s not unpleasant this time.

“Let me make it up to you,” says Mark.

“How?” Helena asks with a grin.

“Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow.”

The words tumble out of his mouth quickly, and when Helena looks at him he almost looks surprised he said them. Helena feels a creeping flush crawl up her neck.

“Dinner? With me?”

Mark’s face falls, and his skin becomes a blotchy red.

“Yeah, sorry, that was stupid. I’m sure you’ve got lots of better things to do,” says Mark, running his hand through his hair as he looks away from her.

“I don’t,” says Helena, quickly, quietly. She watches Mark blink and look back at her, surprised. “I…I was just surprised. That you wanted to ask me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to ask you?” Mark asks, his eyebrows furrowed. “You’re very pret…um…nice to talk to.”

Helena bites her lips again, butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. He wants to take her out to dinner just…because?

A darker, sadder thought enters her mind and tempers her happiness. Saying yes to his dinner invitation would put off a trip to the compunction room. She can feel her hands twitch as she imagines the ruler smacking her knuckles over and over again. She can put that off, just for a little while.

“Yes,” she says, nodding her head, tripping over her words. “I would…yes I would like to eat you. Have dinner, I mean. With you.”

She feels her ears go hot at her stumbling, but Mark doesn’t seem to notice. All he does is smile at her.

“Great,” he says. “How do you feel about Chinese food?”

Helena has never had Chinese food before in her life.

“Sounds perfect,” she says as Mark types his number into her phone. As she gets into her car, she drives away feeling practically giddy.