Chapter Text
“So,” Mark says, “Where do we start?”
”Great question,” Helly replies, drawing a blank.
First on the docket is finding Ms. Casey. They’ll both go into the office tomorrow and recommence their search once Helly has caught the innies up. He walks her through the process of entering the building, getting to the severed floor, switching things out at her locker, and heading down in the elevator.
“Helena left me her laptop and her phone. Her house is huge. If we tear it apart we’re bound to find something useful, right?” Helly offers, relieved when he agrees to meet her there after work to go through it. She really doesn’t want to tackle deciphering her outie’s life on her own.
”I think I still have Petey’s phone, I can try to call Reghabi,” Mark offers, promising that she’s pretty badass and hellbent on ending severance once and for all.
Helly is wary about Reghabi - someone who must have previously been involved closely with Lumon if they’re able to manage reintegrating innies and outies. Besides, she doesn’t want her and her friends to just reintegrate and disappear, folded into their outie’s lives like after thoughts. She wanted to be herself.
They quickly realize there isn’t much they can plan for without more information. Then Helly’s stomach growls loudly, serving to both embarrass her and get both of their minds off the task ahead.
“Uh, sorry I have basically no food- I could order some pizza? I know it’s nothing special-“
”Mark, I have literally never even had pizza before. I eat the same five pre-packaged salads on rotation and weird snacks at things called egg parties. Pizza sounds incredible.”
”Oh,” Mark’s visibly flustered and a little disturbed by that, as though he had never pondered the repercussions of a life without pizza before. “Ok. Pizza then.”
Helly eats greedily, wondering why they weren’t allowed to have food this good, as she watches football on his TV. The sport itself is kind of boring, and she doesn’t know the rules, but at least it’s fun to watch the players tackle each other. Cohabitating with Mark’s outie is still kind of awkward. Even despite how clearly he’s still mourning his wife, how obvious it is that he still thinks about her with an almost singular focus, Helly still can’t help but feel that same familiar draw to him. It takes a concerted effort to keep her eyes on the TV when they’d much rather keep drifting to him.
While Mark calls his sister upstairs, Helly snoops around and finds a picture of Mark and Gemma on their wedding day, buried in the bottom of a drawer. It’s jarring, seeing Ms. Casey with so much life in her eyes, and Helly has never seen Mark look so lighthearted either. It tugs at her heart, particularly the knowledge that her own bloodline was responsible for his situation. No matter how much she cared about Mark - or maybe because of how much she cared - Helly knew she would have to step aside if they’re able to get Ms. Casey back. When they’re able to get her back. She would not be selfish. Mark and his wife deserved good things. Helly and Helena did not. After all, she thinks bitterly, no one can atone for her actions but herself.
Still, Helly almost asks if she can stay another night. Having him with her is like having a comfort blanket, even if he isn’t her Mark. But pride and the necessity of being prepared for work stops her. She bids him farewell at his front door, resisting the urge to make contact. It feels wrong not not to at least hug him, but she can’t. He doesn’t belong to her, and she can’t impose herself anymore than she already is.
Helly returns to Helena’s big empty home. She’s tempted to eat another pint of ice cream, but can’t find one, so she settles for picking at different types of fruits and cheese. There is still an exhilaration to choosing, but the buzz doesn’t last long. She’s exhausted. She needs to sleep.
She retreats to the room she found the night before, changes out of her work clothes on autopilot, and collapses into bed. Falling asleep isn’t any easier tonight. Even though it’s a real bed and one her body should be accustomed to, it still feels so much stranger than being on Mark’s couch. She trusts Mark. She does not trust Helena. Yet here she is in the heart of the lion’s den. In the dead woman’s bed. Because that’s what Helena was now, right? It sure felt that way, when you were gone. Put on pause and buried in their brain. Ceasing to exist.
Helly still doesn’t understand why Helena would do this. She had been dedicated enough to her family and company, so much so that even attempting to murder them both hadn’t convinced her to stop. She had threatened to torture both Helly and her friends. Everything she knew about Helena pointed to a heartless, conniving, corporate shell of a human being. But, that wasn’t what she saw in that video. In the video, Helena was full of remorse. Ashamed, even. About how she treated the innies? Her role at Lumon? But what happened that could have possibly changed her so radically? Helly can’t figure it out. She was struggling to figure any of this out. The tasks seem insurmountable; find Ms. Casey, take down Lumon, free her friends. Would it have killed her outie to leave some better instructions? Any context at all?
Eventually, she falls into a brief and fitful sleep. She dreams of the subdued Ms. Casey she knew, in contrast with the Gemma in photographs who seemed so vibrant. She can hear Mark out there somewhere, but can’t find him. It sounds like he’s crying.
—
Helly is practically buzzing with nerves by the time she rolls into the Lumon parking lot. It’s strange seeing the place she has spent practically every moment of her existence in from the outside. The building is ominous; every breath she takes as she enters feels oppressive. She’s careful to follow each step of Mark’s instructions closely, though she does worry that there might be a different entrance protocol for an Eagan. Luckily, that doesn’t seem to be the case, and no one offers her a second glance as she enters the locker room and faces down the elevators. They’re just as scary from up here. Helly takes a deep breath and enters. When the doors close her eyes squeeze shut, scared that she might be triggered back into Helena. But the familiar fading to black and slight ringing in her ears never comes. When the elevator beeps again and she opens her eyes, a familiar painting hangs on the wall in front of her. She steps out cautiously.
It’s like she never left, yet everything feels different now. She tries not to speed walk to MDR but fails, swinging around the corner into the room as nerves broil uncomfortably in her stomach. There they are, her boys, the same as always. Dylan is sitting dutifully at his desk, Irving at the copier, and Mark exiting the kitchenette with a coffee in hand. The sight brings a particular comfort, especially after all the newness over the past day.
Mark sees her first, offering a welcoming smile, lighter now than he seemed when she last saw him only so many hours ago. There is an unmistakable affection in his eyes that has been missing from his outie’s gaze. The warmth that surges through her nearly brings tears to her eyes. She can’t help it: before she has a chance to sit at her desk, or even get out a proper greeting, she’s wrapping Mark in a tight hug. He returns it tightly with one arm, the other holding his mug away from them to prevent any spills. Helly couldn’t care less if he dropped the whole thing. It is such a relief to be in his arms, but she can feel that he’s stiff.
“Hey, hey, you alright?”
Helly doesn’t answer. She didn’t plan on starting the day this way. In fact, she had planned on keeping it cool until she could bring them all somewhere more discreet.
“Yeah, what’s up? You have a crazy weekend or something?” Dylan pipes up, trying to de-escalate with a joke.
Helly takes a deep breath and pulls away from Mark, “Yes, actually.”
Dylan starts to laugh, but the look on Helly’s face cuts it short. “Wait, really ?” He whisper shouts.
Helly nods, avoiding their eyes, and sits at her desk. Mark and Irving join, both looking at her in concern. They all lower their dividers and lean in, waiting for her to explain herself. She takes a long look at each of them, knowing that nothing will ever be the same after this. They may very well decide they hate her. She wouldn’t blame them. Nonetheless, she takes the leap.
“I woke up. Outside.”
“Seriously?” Dylan asks, “How? Who?”
“My outie did it.”
They all stare at her, dumbfounded. She isn’t surprised, they know better than anyone exactly how callous her outie is. Exactly what she has put Helly through. And yet they still don’t even know the half of it. She tries to enjoy these last few moments where they trust her implicitly as their friend, before they begin to distrust her because of who she really is.
“Why would she do that?” Mark asks.
“I’m not sure, exactly. Didn’t leave great instructions. Change of heart I guess?” She shrugs and chews on her thumb, anxiously. “She left me a tape. Told me to ‘help them’, whatever the fuck that means.”
“Maybe she means us,” Irving chimes in
Helly shrugs. It sure seemed that way, but she still had a hard time believing there wasn’t an ulterior motive. “I don’t know. I still don’t trust her. She could be up to something.”
“Well, did you learn anything else about her?” Mark asks.
“A whole weekend, surely you must have.” Irving adds.
“It wasn’t a whole weekend. Just yesterday, really,” she deflects.
“Still! C’mon, don’t hold back. We won’t judge you if your outies’s a total loser,” Dylan chides.
If only it was that. Helly can’t meet their eyes, heart pounding. “My name isn’t Helly R. It’s Helena…. Eagan,” she just manages to choke the word out.
A hush falls upon them. For a long moment it’s as though the entire office freezes. And then it explodes.
“What the fuck?” Dylan exclaims in shock.
“Eagan? Sweet Kier,” Irving seems aghast, but there is a hint of that look he used to get whenever he would wax poetic about Kier and the Eagans and Lumon’s legacy. Something like reverence.
“No seriously, what the fuck!” Dylan repeats, more intently.
Helly risks a glance at a still quiet Mark. He’s looking at her in pure bewilderment, eyes wide with shock, clearly trying and failing to digest the information.
“No shit she wouldn’t let you resign,” Dylan continues before she can say anything, his mind moving a mile a minute as always, “She’s literally the boss.”
“You must have access to all sorts of information. Helly,” Irving adds thoughtfully, growing excited. “This is huge.”
“I guess,” Helly concedes. She hasn’t learned much yet. She feels silly now for running straight to Mark’s outie instead of searching Helena’s home herself. But it will be better to tackle that beast with him instead of on her own.
“What did you do?” Dylan asks. “Were you in your boring apartment?”
Helly furrows her brow, “Boring apartment?”
“Yeah, you said it was boring when we got back from OTC.”
One of Helena’s lies, then. Her cheeks burn. The urge to cover with another lie is strong. She doesn’t want to admit to any of this. To what her outie has been doing to them all this time. How Helly allowed it.
“I didn’t say that,” she tells them.
They look at her blankly.
“It wasn’t me,” she insists. “Helena, she’s been… Pretending to be me.”
Dylan and Irving look at eachother, then back at Helly. She spares a brief glance at Mark. He looks devastated. Betrayed. She looks away quickly, a sharp pang resonating through her chest. She’s glad when Dylan and Irving continue.
“We knew it. You have been acting weird as shit, dude,” Dylan starts.
Irving nods sagely, “Though, neither of us guessed correctly. I thought you were merely disappointed by our lack of progress.”
“I thought you were pregnant.”
“Dylan!” Mark interjects as Helly drops her head in her hands with a mortified groan.
“Well,” Irving intercedes before things can get out of hand, “If you didn’t learn anything about Helena, what did you do?”
“I ate pizza.” Helly lifts her head out of her hands. “And ice cream.”
“That does sound awesome,” Dylan admits.
“I also saw Mark,” she adds quickly.
“How?” This Mark asks her, leaning forward.
She struggles to meet his eye. “Helena had his address.”
“She probably has all our addresses,” Irving muses helpfully. Helly shrugs and doesn’t correct him.
“What’s Mark’s outie like?” Dylan asks curiously.
“He’s…” Helly thinks of Mark’s obvious grief. The drinking. How only the shadow of their Mark manages to shine through. “Nice,” she says instead, “He said he’ll help. He knows someone who can help. She used to work for Lumon and she does this thing called reintegration where she puts you and your outie back together.”
“That’s impossible,” Irving scoffs.
“It’s not. Mark saw it himself with Petey.”
“Petey reintegrated? He’s out there?” Mark perks back up and Helly’s mood sinks further.
“He did. He found you out there, but there were complications…” she watches the realization set in, her own brows drawn in concern, “He didn’t make it.”
Mark is quiet. Dylan and Irving are, too, as they consider that. Helly partially knows what they’re thinking - that if reintegration could kill both versions of them for good, it might not be worth it. But Petey was also their friend for years. He was the one who gave Mark his orientation on the table. If Helly’s experience taught her anything, the person who ushered you into the world in Lumon that way - who helped you find balance on your own two legs like a newborn calf - always held a special place in your heart.
“I’m sorry,” she continues. “But we might not have to do that. Maybe she can help us some other way. We’re going to make contact with her, see what she knows, and go through Helena’s house too.I’ll let you know what we find. But in here, we have to find Ms. Casey.”
“We tried,” Dylan reminds her, “The flyers, remember? No leads. She probably isn’t here anymore.”
“Well then we'll try again!” Helly insists, “We keep trying. We can’t just abandon her… she’s one of us. There has to be something we missed. And-”
She almost tells them about Gemma, just then; about how clear it is that Mark’s outie needs his wife back desperately, what being without her has done to him, how the slim hope of finding her again is probably the only reason he’s agreed to help them in the first place. But she stops herself short just in time. “We just need to find her, okay? And then we can take down Lumon and get ourselves the fuck out of this place.”
“Just like that, huh,” Dylan quips sarcastically, as if Helly isn’t fully aware that it’s a tall order.
“ Yes ,” she grits out, “Just like that.”
“In that case,” Irving says, taking out his sketchbook, “There’s something I should probably let you all know about.”
He shows them his sketch of a door down a long, dark hallway, and explains how he had seen his outie obsessively painting it over and over again. Felicia from O&D called it the Exports Hall. Thanks to Irving, they at least have a lead to go off of. It’s decided that he’ll go with Dylan to investigate further, see if they can at least nail down its location for their map. Helly makes them promise to find the hallway only, not to go down there. They have no idea what Lumon is doing to people here and if Irving and Dylan get themselves disappeared, too, it will all have been for nothing. Mark and Helly agree to watch out for them, cover in case anyone comes by and go looking for them if they aren’t back by three.
Awkwardness settles over them once they’re alone. It’s been a long time since Helly has felt so uncomfortable around Mark, and that was a very different type of uncomfortable from the cloying shame and anxious fear that’s settled over her now. It’s obvious that he’s just as uneasy as she is, and that he isn’t getting any real work done either. He just sits there, eyes drilling holes into his screen of numbers with furrowed brows and tense shoulders. She needs to know what he’s thinking about all this. Helly keeps opening her mouth only to shut it again, second guessing every question that comes to her mind. Are you mad at me? Do you hate me? Do you still trust me?
Mark stands up suddenly, and she startles, watching him. He clears his throat as he excuses himself, stalking quickly into the hallway. Helly only hesitates for a moment before she’s on her feet and following him. She sees him disappear into the bathroom and doesn’t bother to knock before entering herself.
“Mark-“
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” He bursts out, “Weeks, Helly! And she has been- We have been…” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, shaking his head.
“Helena would have snuffed me out ages ago if I did, and then she would have tortured all of you for it,” she tries to explain. “But I wanted to tell you, I swear.”
“Oh, great, you wanted to,” Mark replies bitterly, sarcastically, and it settles in Helly’s stomach like poison.
She bristles, spitting back, “Well, it’s not like you even noticed.”
“Excuse me?”
“You went along with it, too! Kissing her , telling her that you love her !” Helly didn’t realize how angry she still was about those stolen moments, how much hurt she carried that Mark hadn’t been able to tell when she wasn’t herself. “Even Dylan and Irving realized that something was off!”
“That’s not fair,” Mark retorts, stricken, “You were quieter sometimes, but you were still you.”
“Except that I literally wasn’t.”
“But you were! She is you, Helly.”
Helly scowls and approaches him quickly, getting in his face and barely resisting the urge to push him as hard as she can, “Take it back.”
“No!” He stands his ground, not letting her intimidate him the way she once could, “That’s what’s making this so confusing. Every moment we’ve been together has been good - amazing, actually - apparently whether you were you or her.”
Helly turns her head, not wanting to hear him praise Helena, but he takes her face between his hands and refuses to let her drop his gaze. He’s still on edge, eyebrows drawn as he tries to convince her, “That couldn’t have all been fake. I can’t believe that.”
“She’s a good liar, then.”
“But she’s helping you now, right? She told you to help us.”
Helly doesn’t answer. She still doesn’t know if the situation Helena has placed her in can really count as helping.
“So maybe,” Mark continues, voice softening, “Maybe she’s not as evil as we thought.” He sounds subtly hopeful. It reminds Helly of Stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe just denial. Or maybe he’s right, a voice whispers in her head.
“Then why are you mad at me?”
“I’m just… Frustrated,” he sighs, “I wish I knew. I should have figured it out. I should have helped you.”
“I didn’t really want you to figure it out,” she admits quietly, taking one of his lapels and clutching it in her hand, “She could’ve hurt you.”
Mark purses his lips, thumb stroking her cheekbone. If he disagreed, he was biting his tongue about it. “What was it like with my outie?”
“You’re not so different,” she says, “You’re still Mark.”
“Did he like you?”
Helly’s heart twists in her chest. “I guess. He’s really- He’s not ready for something like that.”
Mark frowns, “Yeah, I figured. Devon made it pretty clear that he isn’t doing well.”
She doesn’t have a good answer for him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I had you in my home with access to a real bed and I didn’t even do anything about it,” he jokes.
“It isn’t like that out there,” Helly says, though she can’t help smiling at the thought. She’d had similar ones, sleeping on the couch a floor below him. “You really love her.”
Mark shakes his head, bringing their foreheads together, “I love you .”
The words break her heart. She knows they’re true, or that he at least thinks they are. “It’s not the same.”
“I don’t care,” he insists, “I love you.”
She bites her lips, “Even though I’m an Eagan.”
“I’ll admit that part is a little weird,” he huffs a laugh that she can’t help but return, because all of this is weird. “But yes. I do.”
She thinks that will change. The more they discover about Helena and about what her company has been up to, about Ms. Casey and Gemma, the more she will lose him. It’s just a matter of time now, surely. But she can still enjoy this in the meantime, before it’s lost to her, can’t she?
Helly leans up on her toes to press a kiss against his lips. It is soft, tentative, but Mark quickly turns it into something intense and desperate. He turns them until she’s pinned against the counter, his hands roaming down her sides and up her back. She savors his attention, how right it feels to be with him this way. She had missed it yesterday, every cell in her body calling out for it and being denied.
He lifts her onto the counter behind them and her legs wrap dutifully around his hips, pulling them closer together. Mark slides his hands up her thighs and under her skirt. Since she was able to dress for herself, there were no tights blocking his access to her. His thumbs hook around the waistband of her panties, tugging them down. They don’t typically bother with that - undressing isn’t very accessible when technically anyone could find you at any moment - but this time she lets him indulge. She’ll give him anything he wants, anything she has to give, for as long as he wants it.
Her underwear discarded, Helly reaches to make quick work of his belt. She reaches a hand around him and watches his face contort in pleasure. He looks pained and relieved at her touch, releasing a low moan. But he takes her wrist, gently stopping her.
“Not now,” he instructs, voice serious but kind. “I want you.”
He doesn’t need to tell her twice. She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his jaw, letting him push into her. Helly practically sobs at the feel of him, her fingers grabbing at the material of his jacket. His hands take hold of her hips to leverage himself deeper, beginning a pace that is punishing but no less sweet.
“I missed you,” she practically whines between breaths.
“I was right there,” he responds, sounding so sure.
But he wasn’t there, not really, not like this. Helly doesn’t want to say these things, so instead she kisses him. Surrounds herself with Mark, his familiar taste and scent, the feel of him around her, inside of her, the sound of their breath mingling and his moans against her lips. She wishes she could keep this. But now more than ever it seems as though every kiss might be the last one. So she savors and memorizes every second of it, losing herself in him completely.
Afterwards Mark has tears in his eyes. He always cries and she’s long since learned to stop asking why. This time she doesn’t need to ask why. This time she cries, too.
Eventually they put themselves back together and return to their post. Mark stays close and she can tell he’s trying to improve the mood, but there is still a layer of melancholy over them. Things are changing, and changing fast. Dylan and Irving return with eyes on the Export Hall, having added its location to their map. It’s a good thing, but it still fills Helly with dread. She traces it over and over with a pen, ingraining it in her memory to transfer to their copy on the outside.
Dylan and Irving wish her good luck on their way out. She promises that she’ll update everyone tomorrow. Mark walks with her like he always does, the both of them quieter than usual.
“I guess I really will see you in five minutes,” he says, acknowledging their strange situation.
“More like thirty. Unless you’re late.”
Mark smiles at her, “I’ll try not to be.”
Helly smiles back, but she doesn’t feel it meet her eyes. She tilts her head, watching him longer than necessary, taking in every detail of his face and enjoying how he looks when he knows her - the soft edges around his eyes, the small smile that’s only for her. Then she nods decisively, stepping back and into the elevator as it arrives.
The doors start to close, but Mark reaches a hand out to block them and comes in after her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her soundly. Helly has a sense of deja vu, the similarities to their first kiss not lost on her. She can’t find it in herself to pull away, even if it means the elevator doors won’t close and she’ll be stuck in here forever. But they can’t get lost in each other again now, not when they have business to attend to. Mark pulls away, regretfully, and steps back into the office where he must stay even as his body leaves.
“I’ll see you soon,” he swears.
Helly nods, wishing it were true. “See you soon.”