The first time you meet the woman, you are not impressed. The suburban housewife looks to be just that- a pink abomination, headband matching her cardigan. Though you do note that for someone who has lost their family and been on the run for almost 6 months, the woman is quite pulled together actually. The only signs of trouble are a torn pant leg, one bloodied knee exposed, and the cuts and bruises blushing the woman's knuckles.
Part of you understands you're grasping at straws going after this one, but this one is the only one you have been able to capture since Sarah and Kira's escape. Not for lack of effort.
You are uncertain if this clone will be of value enough to lure Sarah back, though. You understand why Sarah would come for Kira. You even understand why she would come for Cosima. However you do not see much of value in this, this wisp of a woman behind the glass.
Even when the woman's eyes meet your- holding your gaze for an extended moment, noting, cataloguing, before sliding attention back to the man interrogating her in the room- you see very little of value.
Very little of value. You pivot on your heal quickly, returning to your office.
The second time you meet her, you are not quite as certain of this assessment.
For the majority of the past few weeks you have ignored the woman being held. Besides the quick update included in your morning briefing, you see no reason to devote any additional time or thought to someone who's presence is simply a means to an end.
However, after 3 weeks of silence, of obedience, it seems the woman has killed one of the guards.
What is intriguing though is that this act was not committed in an attempt to escape. Nor for any other apparent primary gain. For all intents and purposes, it appears she killed the guard simply because the opportunity presented itself. You're told that surveillance footage shows the woman sitting back down calmly afterwards, finishing her meal with the same fork she disemboweled the man with.
While still of little value, your interest is certainly piqued.
As you enter the room, you notice that the pink cardigan is gone, long since replaced with the Dyad's standard issue blue scrubs. Scrubs, you note, that the staff have not bothered to change since the incident. The guard's blood still appears slightly wet, dark blotches staining damp strips across both shirt and pants. The woman's bangs have grown out a bit more, shadowing her eyes further. Something in those eyes flashes dark before being blinked away, though they continue to track you pointedly as you move through the room, taking your seat at the table across from her.
The woman's posture is straight, hands neatly folded in her lap. Handcuffs might as well have been silver bracelets, appearing of just as little consequence to her. Her mouth is a neutral line, face relaxed but poised. She is a blank slate staring back at you. A reflection, revealing nothing.
This you did not expect.
You have stood across from Sarah. Sarah- a coiled spring, taut and ready to explode. You have stood across from Cosima- Soft and fluid. Like water, or smoke, flowing easily from one thing to the next.
This one though... this one is like steel. Constructed purposefully. Solid. Unyielding.
Like you.
Well not like you of course. After all, you have had every advantage. You have spent the years carefully, purposefully, sharpening to an elegant point, where this woman's sharp edges are still rough. Jagged. Relatively newly forged.
Those edges still draw blood though.
"This is not the first time you've killed," you say. It isn't a question and the woman must understand this because she doesn't answer. "But why now?"
"I did what was necessary."
"Necessary for what?" The question leaps unbidden from your lips. A slip. You don't like it.
The corners of the woman's mouth tug up, a poised smile, her only response.
The clash of steel on steel creates sparks.
You will have to pay more attention to this one.