Fix You (Revised)

2.

"Alright!" Deborah's voice was filled with excitement and eagerness. With a wide grin, she set a plate stacked full of blueberry pancakes before her beloved sister. "You can open your eyes now."

With a smile of her own, Helena opened her brown orbs. "Ta-da!" Deborah exclaimed with a bounce, her arms up in the air. "Deborah," Helena chuckled, "You cooked?"

The younger Harper deadpanned, her arms dropping to the side as she pouted. Helena laughed at the reaction and wrapped her arms around her baby sister's waist, pulling her close. "I'm joking, sis." Deborah, secretly enjoying the embrace, smacked Helena a top the head lightly before breaking free of her hold and walking around the table to take a seat. "I believe the correct phrase is, Thank you Deborah for making me breakfast. You're the best sister in the whole world."

"You are the best sister" Helena reciprocated gazing into the same hazel eyes as her mother's, her own glinting with love. Her smile was warm and sincere. Deborah's nod of approval was curt. "Thank you."

The two sat in silence, staring at one another, for several moments before Deborah spoke. "Well…" she started. A confused look crossed Helena's features. "Well… what?"

"Aren't you going to eat?" Deborah queried. Eyebrows lifting, Helena eyed the pancakes with a skeptical look. "Well…"

Deborah sighed, "Well… what? It's not like I'm trying to poison you."

"Well how do I know that?"

Deborah stared back in stock and awe, mouth agape. "What?"

Helena's lips pulled into the slightest hint of a smirk. "How do I know you're not trying to kill me?" Deborah moved to stand before her, hands on her hips, and looked askance at her darling sister. "Why would I kill you when I still have use for you?"

Helena gasped, "Deborah!"

The younger Harper smirked. "Hey, the truth hurts."

Helena narrowed her eyes, Deborah recurring the action. The two stared at one another for several long silent moments before breaking off into laughter. The merriment stopped shortly however, as Deborah doubled over in pain with a sharp groan.

The elder Harper shot out from her seat, instantly at her sister's side. "Deborah!" The young girl held her sides, eyes shut tight. Helena's panic and fear rose tenfold as she watched Deborah writhe in agony before her, her cries deafening. Oh god, what could she do? She jumped back in shock as Deborah released a blood curling scream, her body erupting in flames. Her eyes widened in fear as she let out an agonized cry, "Deborah!"

She awoke in a jolt with a scream, shooting into an upright position, taking quick heavy breaths, her heart rapidly beating with the thrum of each beat echoing loudly in her ears. Deborah! Deborah! Her eyes frantically searched the disastrous vicinity, her sweat drenched body shaking intensely.

Nothing… no Deborah… calm down… relax… She slowed her breathing in attempts to compose herself, her hand instinctively reaching for the necklace around her neck, cradling it tightly with all her might. "Just a dream…" she whispered, shutting her eyes, "Just a dream…"

"Help me!" Deborah's terrified voice echoed.

Stifling a sob, Helena brought her hands up to her throbbing head with a groan. God, the pain… A gorilla going ape shit over a pair of bongo drums was really the only way she could think of to describe it. The pounding, so strong, so fierce, it hurt, so much, it hurt.

She sat in the deafening silence for several long moments, fighting the sting and forcing back the incoming memories. Not now. Please. Not now. She grit her teeth. She could see flashes in her mind. Simmons… Deborah… Tall Oaks… China… Leon… too much… it's too much…

Gone. Gone suddenly. The flashes dispersed and she found she could breathe, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and heaved at the dryness of her mouth. She swallowed to clear the lump in her throat, cringing at the discomfort the action caused. Water. She needed water.

Crawling out of bed, Helena forced herself to her feet with a groan. Her legs were like jelly, wobbling. She moved to the wall and leant against it for support. Ugh, the floor was moving.

She took a moment before glancing at her surroundings; untidy bed, clothes scattered and littering the floor, a broken mirror and a cluttered dresser. What the hell was she doing in her bedroom? How the hell had she gotten here?

Faint memories of Leon picking her up from the bathroom floor and taking her to her bedroom flashed through her mind. Huh. Had it actually happened or had it been wishful thinking? It had to have happened, right? She was here in her bedroom when last she had been in the bathroom. She groaned and held her head. Her brain was hurting. Argh, this was certainly no time to think.

To hell with this, Helena thought as she forced herself off from the wall. She struggled with her balance as she walked forward, bending to pick up a discarded oversized red t-shirt with a logo for an auto parts store. It must have belonged to one of the many random men she had slept with during the week. Without bothering to check if the piece of attire was clean or not, she slipped it on and stumbled her way out of her room, down the corridor and toward the bathroom. She needed an aspirin, ASAP.

Her trek was rather long for such a short distance. In flicking the light switch on, she recoiled with a grunt, the light stinging her eyes. "Ugh!" She blinked rapidly her eyes adjusting quickly and staggered toward the sink, opening the medicine cabinet. She filled a small glass with water, her hand automatically reaching for the bottle of pills. Sighing, she popped two small white pills and drank eagerly, feeling the cool liquid make its way down her throat, taking some of the dryness with it. When finished, she closed the cabinet door and gasped upon seeing Deborah's reflection standing behind her, the glass in her hand falling from her grasp and shattering on the floor.

Helena turned around in a panic to find no one there. She quickly looked back into the mirror, seeing nothing. She turned and scanned the room, finding zilch. Had it been her imagination?

She glanced to the mirror once more, screaming as she yet again saw Deborah. In her panic and fear, she slipped on the bath rug toppling over and cutting her hand on the scattered glass in the process.

She hissed, groaning at the sharp pain as she gazed upon the blood seeping from the large cut. Oh, perfect! She sighed, throwing her head back against the wall in irritation. Just perfect.

She sat in sullen silence for several long moments, hating the broken glass, hating the stupid rug, hating the mirror, hating Deborah, hating her injured hand, hating… hating herself. She stared at the wound and watched the blood trail down from her wrist and to the tiled floor. It sure was an awful lot of blood… should she get up and treat the cut? Perhaps she should do nothing, as she was doing now, and maybe eventually she will bleed out and die. She laughed and shook her head at her ridiculous thoughts. She wouldn't die from an itty bitty cut. Ah, well, one can only dream, right?

With a grunt and a struggle, Helena eventually staggered to her feet. She pressed her bloody hand on the wall for support and made her way out from the bathroom and down the hallway, clenching her hand closed tight to keep the bloody mess from trickling. In the kitchen, somewhere in the cabinets, sat an unopened bottle of vodka with her name on it. Oh, just at the mere thought of it her mouth watered.

Her trek stopped as she came to Deborah's door, shut tightly and never opened since that day… that horrible, horrible day…

"Stay out of my life, Helena!"

She grimaced as she recalled Deborah storming off soon after, and then she was taken… she quickly shook her head and willed the memories away. The day was still young and she had yet to have a drink. She pressed on with a deep sigh, eyes shut to avoid looking at the empty walls; she'd taken down all pictures of herself and Debora, looking at them brought too much pain.

As she reached the living room, Helena tripped on her own feet and fell face forward with a thud and a grunt. She took a few seconds to recollect herself, rolling onto her back and sitting up to look around. Her eyes widened in disbelief. The curtains were open, allowing enough light into the room for her see the whole apartment had been cleaned spotless. What in the hell…?

She turned at the sound of a click and watched as the door swung open with a soft creak. Leon entered the apartment, gasping upon finding her on the floor. Immediately he set the several shopping bags down and rushed to her side, kneeling on one knee. "Are you okay?" He checked her for injuries as she groaned and swatted his hands away. "I'm fine" she barked gruffly, "Get off me!"

He took hold of her and helped her to her feet. "I'd ask how you're feeling but I think I have my answer." She snatched her hand away and that was when he saw the blood. He looked down at his at own hand, brow furrowed. "Helena."

"What?" she responded, her tone curt.

"You're bleeding" he stated.

"It's nothing" she countered, "Leave it alone."

Saying nothing, Leon left down the hall returning moments later from the bathroom with a first aid kit. He took her arm and guided her toward the sofa, sitting her down.

She clenched her hand shut, "I said leave it alone!"

"Let me see" he said firmly, taking her wrist and squeezing to force her to comply. Being coarse with her was something he hated to do, but was the only thing he could do to get her to submit. When she finally did, he breathed out a low, "Jesus," at the amount of blood. With a shake of his head, he pulled her up and led her to the kitchen. Helena sighed and allowed him to. What was the use in fighting him?

"We should wash it out first" he said as he lifted her up effortlessly and set her on the counter. She said nothing as he switched the faucet on. She did however, flinch at the cold water upon contact with her skin. Moments after, the water was switched off and Leon left to retrieve the kit from the couch.

Helena looked to the gash. It didn't appear too deep, at least from what she could see. It was almost superficial. She didn't look up when she heard him return. Nor when he took her hand in his grasp. She merely remained silent.

"So, what happened?" he queried, "How did you get this cut on your hand?" He observed the wound, going all across her hand, from one end to the other. "Looks like an abrasion. Doesn't look like you'll need stitches." He glanced up at her. Her attention was elsewhere, her eyes searching, looking everywhere and anywhere but his direction.

"What?" she said as she seemed to come out of her trance. She hissed as he tended to the wound, dapping it clean with a cloth soaked with alcohol. "Your hand," he replied, "How'd you cut it?" She stiffened at the burning pain. She rather that than to focus on his touching her. "I… uh, cut it when I fell."

Leon picked up on her brusque tone and sighed, deciding to simply drop the subject, knowing he wouldn't get much from her. "Well, you should be more careful." Helena's brows furrowed in anger. "Don't baby me." She retracted her hand crudely after he finished placing a bandage over it.

"I wasn't" he sighed. He walked off and shut the apartment door, locking it, a cautionary action he had picked up over the years. "Do you want something for the pain? Your headache?"

Helena jumped down from the counter. "No. I already took some aspirin, just waiting for it to kick in." She walked past him as he entered the kitchen with the forgotten shopping bags in arm. He nodded and set the bags on the counter, moving on to place the groceries away. "Suit yourself."

Helena sighed and sat on the couch, shutting her eyes. Leon glanced in her direction every so often, observing her. Her head rested against the sofa, her body sinking into it. He should say something to her. But what? She was in a mood. Doesn't matter, his conscience spoke. He cleared his throat. What he said was, "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up." What he thought, I'm sorry I haven't been here, at all.

Helena waved him off and said nothing in regards to him, instead saying, "Can you bring me the vodka? It's in one of the cabinets." Leon's sigh was quiet. He finished his task, took a bottle of water, and approached her. "Have some water instead, you need to hydrate your body." The bottle was slipped into her hands as he sat down beside her.

She made no attempt to open it. "You didn't have to do all of this." He took the bottle, opened it, and set it against her lips. "I know" he said as he tipped the bottle up. He watched her drink. He'd given her no choice after all. "By the way," he said as he lowered and closed off the bottle, "I expect it to stay this way. Clean."

She chuckled shortly, a small grin pulling at her pink chapped lips. He felt gratified in being able to make her smile. It seemed a bit of the old Helena was still alive in there, somewhere.

He offered her the bottle again. "Drink some more." She did, much to his surprise. She usually fought him with everything. He watched her, his eyes inadvertently skimming down her body. The foreign shirt she wore hugged her figure and paraded how large her bust was.

Helena sighed, lowering the bottle once again, and shifted her position. She crossed her legs, lifting one long smooth statuesque leg over the other. The action had Leon's eyes drifting even further down to her shapely hips. He hummed and quickly averted his eyes when he realized he was staring, forcing his mind to think of other things, of anything.

He went stiff as Helena placed her head in his lap. His heart rate picked up. Even his palms grew sweaty. Odd. That's never happened. What should he do? He could say something, but what? Anything. But what? "Who does the shirt belong to?"

He mentally struck himself. Was the best he could come up with? Why was he at such a loss for words? He felt Helena shrug. "I don't know" she said, "Probably one of the many I slept with."

The sudden pang of hurt shocked him. Jealousy rose in the pit of his stomach, appalling him. How strange. He found himself saddened and unsure why. He was bothered. Had it been what she'd said? No. It couldn't have been. What did it matter if she slept with others? No. No. It had to have been that she was letting herself be used in such a crude manner that bothered him, not that she slept with other men. He blinked. There it was again, other men. What did he mean by other men?

Helena's groan stirred him from his thoughts. He looked down to her pain stricken pale face. "Is it your hand or head?"

"My head."

He brushed his large fingers through her slightly unkempt hair, massaging her scalp and she let out a sigh of content, a small smile forming on her lips. "That feels good." She reached up and took hold of his free hand and coalesced their fingers. He smiled at the intimacy of the contact.

The silence that settled between them was comfortable, earnest and secure and oh how he enjoyed it. He could linger here forever, enjoying her company. Liking that everything seemed well.

"Were you with Ada?"

Her sudden question ceased his caress and overrode him with guilt. He closed his eyes as a somber expression crossed his features. He had known all along what was coming yet hearing it now he realized he was not at all prepared. What to do? His choices were evident, he could play off her question, pretend he hadn't heard or he could simply tell her the truth. But how could he tell her that after a three day mission he had spent the rest of his time away with Ada?

Oh god it was true. His silence was answer enough. What she'd been fearing was true. He had been with her. She frowned, feeling as if she had been slapped across the face and stabbed in the back. He'd been gone a whole week to be with Ada and knowing that broke her heart, shattered it completely. She closed her eyes and forced back her tears. Was it wrong to feel wronged? Abandoned? Alone?

She sighed, mortified, and removed herself from Leon's grasp, standing up. He frowned at her actions, finding he suddenly missed her warmth. Missed her. He glanced up at her, hurt and anger reflected in her eyes. "I need a drink" she growled. He reached out, taking her hand. She broke free and sauntered off never once sparing him a glance. "There isn't any left" he sighed. "I threw it all out."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him in shock. "What?" His face was set harder than stone and somehow she knew he wasn't lying. Yet still, she shook her head and rushed to the kitchen, throwing all three sets of cabinet doors open. "No. no. no. no." She rummaged wildly through its contents of canned and packaged foods. How could this be? Her eyes darted back and forth in a panic fury. "No… no…"

"Helena, stop." An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back. "Stop." Helena released a frustrated cry, struggling in his hold. "No!" She sobbed. "How-how could you do this?" She inhaled sharply, dropping to her knees. "I need it!"

Oh god. Leon bent down to her level and held her in his arms as tight as he could. Her cries of desperation were breaking his heart. He'd never seen her so broken… helpless… defeated.

"Please, Leon… I need it… I need it bad." She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing harder. "Why, Leon?"

"Oh Helena…" Leon's voice was strained.

"I feel so alone."

"But you're not. You have me." Leon pulled away, placing his large hands on either of her cheeks. "Look at me Helena." She did so, her vision blurry from her tears which were wiped away by Leon's thumbs. He gazed deeply into her eyes. "You're not alone." His voice was soft. "You hear me? You're not. I'm here with you."

She could see the fire in his eyes. He meant every word he said and that only made her fall for him more. Sorrow filled her to the core. She would never have him. Another sob escaped from her throat.

Leon scooped her up into his arms and walked back to the sofa. He sat down and held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively. His role was to remain cool, calm, and collected. Not just for her sake, but his own. She was feeble and needed a rock, someone to keep her grounded and in check.

"Why are you doing this?"

God, her voice sounded so frail. He rested his head atop of hers and let out a breath, his eyes closed. "Because I… I care so much for you Helena. I can't explain it but… you grew on me. I have to keep an eye on you. I need to keep an eye on you."

Her thoughts asked the question of why? What she said instead was, "Thank you." What more could she say? She glanced up at him, catching the sincerity in his eyes. Oh those eyes, she could get lost in those eyes. She moved in close, face mere inches away from his, but stopped before her lips could brush his own, it taking every fiber of her being not to do so. Instead she placed a kiss on his cheek.

As much as she wanted, she couldn't. She couldn't cross the line of their friendship. She wouldn't be able to handle the rejection. With a quiet sigh she placed her head over his chest, inhaling his musky chest and closed her eyes, her body unwinding. His steady heart beat lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

Leon released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and held Helena closer. Her little episode had him frightened, never having seen her in such a way before. Her dependency on alcohol worried him. He could lose her at any moment, he came to realize and it shook him cold. He couldn't lose her. He refused. He needed her just as much as she needed him.

He glanced down to her as she shifted in his arms. Oh Helena, you poor beautiful broken soul. No, not broken, just troubled. He watched her sleep, amazed at her transition from hysterics to ease. Hm. She looked herself when sleeping.

The chiming of the clock caught his attention. Leon looked up to the wall, noticing the clock was the only thing there. It was late into the evening he saw, realizing he'd spent most of the afternoon cleaning the apartment and running her errands.

His stomach growled and he recognized he hadn't eaten in hours. Glancing down to Helena, he frowned. She hadn't eaten in days. He knew by the amount of garbage he had cleaned out, nothing but empty liquor bottles and rotten food. She needed to eat. He needed to eat. But she slept so sound. Oh was she going to hate him for waking her up.