Sarah could admire her twin for her unwavering devotion, for the way she doesn't so much as bat an eye at the spatter of hot blood after gunning down another "sheep". But the very same thing makes her flesh crawl with repulsion.
Helena is an animal, danger written in her bones, hatred sewn into her wounds, turned feral by betrayal. Every downed target is spared only a quick prayer before she washes off the grime and begins her endless hunt again.
It took a while for Sarah to cast away her mind's image of Helena, a ruthless monster. The first few days after everything had finally settled down, she refused to let her sleep in her house. "She can sleep in an alley, I don't give a shite. She's probably used to it anyway," she had spat out unabashed.
Sarah couldn't have shut her out for long, though, even if she wanted to. She was driven by the need to protect her family, and Helena was family, whether she liked it or not. She'd keep coming back to her doorstep like a puppy that had been kicked out of its home and refused to leave no matter how cold the rain that seeped through its pelt was. It didn't matter if she was unwanted, because Sarah was all she had left.
She eventually apprehensively allowed her to live in her home–which is now their home – but she'd never leave Kira alone with Helena, not after the accident a couple months ago.
Although her sister treated her indignantly and cold, Helena would never respond negatively, be it resentful or remorseful, because their severed bond will not be easily mended and what it needed was patience and time and love. Helena had patience and time and plenty of love. She's nowhere more important to be. Sarah may be disgruntled and find Helena insufferable, but she knows it is only her motherly instinct to protect Kira that is at play.
It's been a month since the clones' "happy ending," and it's Sarah's first easy night in a long, long time. She closes her eyes, facing the door leading to Kira's room. When she opens her eyes again, a dark figure with a halo of light hair is standing over her, clutching a silver object close to their face.
She reflexively reaches to her bedside table to feel for her gun, knocking over a book that landed with a dull thud, the sound not unlike the noise of skulls hitting pavements, while she frantically sweeps her arms around.
"Seestra, I cannot sleep."
Sarah let the tension in her back relax, relieved. "Helena, what the hell? You scared the bloody daylights out of me." Now that the adrenaline had rushed out of her, she could see Helena clearly. Her face was tilted down and she was looking up at her, lower lip jutting out in a childish pout. And in her left hand was a spoon. "And have you been eating our Jell-O again?"
"I am sorry, Sarah. For disturbing your sleep. I will go back outside now," she said dejectedly, and turned to make for the door.
Sarah sat up and sighed, running a hand through her unkempt hair. "Helena, no, it's all right." She tried to sound reassuring. "Wait." She scooted over to the right side of her bed and moved a few pillows over, then patted the spot she just made room for. Helena became a blur of gold as she rushed under the covers and got tangled up in them, and Sarah in the process. "Hey. He–Watch it, your feet are cold!"
"Thank you, Seestra. Wonderful, wonderful Seestra, the light… " She slurred, and turned her head and pressed her lips to her shoulder tiredly. Sarah rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, just go to sleep, meathead." She settled her head down on the pillow they inadvertently ended up sharing and wrinkled her nose as soon as she got a whiff of her hair. "Alright, tomorrow we're giving you a bath." But Helena had already drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, softly breathing and curling into the warmth.