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    From Scratch (Chapter 3)

    Story written on January 26, 2012 by Casual Watcher.
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    16 votes, average: 3.25 out of 516 votes, average: 3.25 out of 516 votes, average: 3.25 out of 516 votes, average: 3.25 out of 516 votes, average: 3.25 out of 5 (16 votes, average: 3.25 out of 5)
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    Number of Comments: 1
    Words: 4938
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=78854
    Author Notes:

    Distressing events lead Helena Peabody to L.A, where she meets a woman who makes her question her entire perception of herself. Helena/Dylan/Dylena.

    Releasing a long breath, loosening the tightness in her back and stomach, Helena tried to forget her thoughts and glanced around the garden, eyes skimming over flowers and hedges, stopping momentarily whenever a bright colour caught her gaze, and finally allowed her eyes to settle in the sky. Avoiding the sun, she squinted into the open blue above her head. A slight breeze carried a curled strand of her hair along her face, the wisp of brunette clinging to the corner of her mouth until a hand was raised and tugged the irritation out of her way. 
    Running her tongue over her freshly brushed teeth, Helena held back the urge to make a coffee and stood from her seat. Making her way towards the hammock, she assessed the large hooks the webbed material was attached to, doubtful that it might hold her weight. The image of her brother and Peter nestled within the little net, however, soon caused all doubts to subside and she lifted herself in awkwardly, moving around and shifting her weight to feel more comfortable. Being mainly in the shade, she allowed her eyes to close without worrying about sunburn as the hammock continued to sway ever so slightly from her earlier exertion, carrying her into a light sleep. 
    When she woke again, a good half hour later, it was to the sight of two large, blue eyes directly in front of her face and a tickling of soft, dark hair over her chin. Battling between the initial shock and familiar gaze, she blinked the blurriness away, giving Leah time to move back a couple inches or so, allowing her mother to easily see her wide grin. “Hello, baby,” Helena rasped out. Upon hearing her voice, she cleared her throat loudly and stretched as far as she could in the hammock with Leah sitting atop her hips, legs folded on either side of her. 
    “We’re having pasta for lunch,” Leah told her mother matter-of-factly, and then, “everyone speaks like Uncle Peter in the shop.” Smirking at her daughter’s, words, Helena nodded slightly, lifting a hand up to drag a dark strand from her inherited blue eyes. Blowing at her mother’s hand, Leah gently began to rock from side to side, her grin returning ten-fold when the hammock began to sway erratically. 
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