29 Years Earlier
London was eerily quiet, as if the city was holding its collective breath. Flickering street lamps illuminated little pockets of sickly yellow light, oasis's of colour in the darkness of the city's underbelly. In the distance, the sea could be heard faintly, lapping calmly at the dockyard walls. The dark road was empty, no one wanting to be out at this time of night.
Suddenly, a woman burst out of a dark alleyway, her heavy breathing and pounding footsteps shattering the still peace. Pigeons, disturbed from their resting place, flew in different directions, their squawking reverberating off the dank walls. The woman paid them no attention, and sprinted into another alleyway, as dark as the first. This woman was called Amelia, and she was being chased.
Amelia ran. She ran faster and harder than she had ever before. She ducked into an alley, and stopped, leant against the wet wall behind her, and tried to catch her breath. She panted long and hard, breathing out warm air in a plume in front of her. At the sound of running feet getting louder and louder, she rose to her feet again and ran, doing her best to ignore the burning in her chest and the leaden feeling in her legs.
As she tried to outrun the men chasing her, Amelia's mind flashed back to how she'd got here, being chased in the dead of night by men with guns and in fear for the life of her unborn children. She had been approached by a man and a woman, respectable people in respectable clothes, who had wanted her to be the carrier for their baby. There had been offers of money, more money that she had ever dreamed of owning. And she wanted it. Oh how she wanted it, to finally be able to escape the vile, disgusting hatred of the Mississippi outback, where she'd been afraid to go out at night, paralysed by fear. And this money could help her, oh yes it could. The family had offered her a down payment on a flat in London too. Soon enough there'd be no more living from hand to mouth, forced to lie in strangers beds. There would've been a nice place to live, with soft pillows and a TV, and maybe even a family of her own someday. She had been so happy. For seven perfect months, she'd been living a life full of hope, and dreams of the future.
God she'd been naive.
The couple had not been the happy pairing they had first appeared to be - they were two scientists, working on something called 'Neolution'. The man had left his briefcase at her new flat one day when they'd been checking up on her after yet another medical test. She'd just found out she'd be having twins. Twins! The doctors had said that it wouldn't be much more painful, but she was still worried.
She seen the briefcase a few minutes after he had gone, and when she'd gone to pick it up and bring it to him, the clasp had broken, scattering numerous official looking papers across her floor. Amelia had scowled, and sank down to her knees. She had started putting everything back in the briefcase, when out of the corner of her eye; she saw her name, printed in black ink on that crisp white paper. She had lifted it to her eyes in curiosity, and words had begun jumping out at her, like subject and control sample and continual observation . And at the top, stuck in the corner, was a picture of her, a picture that she hadn't realised had been taken. She distinctly remembers how a cold shiver had run down her back at that detail.
Amelia didn't pretend to fully understand what was written here. She wasn't a scientist, or a doctor, or even particularly clever. She had never gone to college, or even been to school. Most of what was on the sheet was gibberish to her. She didn't know what a control sample was, or the implications of advanced evolution.
All she really knew was that her baby was in danger from this Neolution group, and there was no way that she was going to let that happen, no way she would expose her daughters to the people that wanted these twins, people who were prepared to build deceptions of this magnitude. So she ran. She grabbed what little possessions she had, threw them in a ratty old backpack she'd kept on to from home, and pelted out the door, not even bothering to close it behind her in her hurry.
She'd shot down the stairs and out of the apartment building in record time, and sprinted to a nearby bus stop. She got there just in time to catch the last bus of the day, and used some of what little money she had on her to buy a ticket to the docks. If she could get on a boat, she could escape. She was sure of it. It was how she'd got here, after all.
She'd underestimated them however. Only a few minutes after she'd gotten on the bus, two large men in suits had gotten on, and moved to sit at the back. She hadn't thought anything of it to begin with, but eventually it had gotten dark outside, and she and the two men were the only two left on the bus. And when it was finally at the docks, and she had climbed warily off the bus and started walking in the direction of the docks, the men had followed. They had kept a safe amount of distance, but Amelia was sure they were tailing her.
She took a sharp turn down an alleyway and, sure enough the men did so too. She tried not to panic. It was probably nothing, she had told herself. Then, behind her, she heard one of the men shout out, his thickly accented voice breaking the silence.
"Amelia, come back, it's not what it looks like. We can work it all out."
Amelia considered it for a second, to be completely honest. Considered letting them convince her it was all just a mistake, all a just a misunderstanding, and going back to her nice cosy flat with its soft pillows and a TV. Just forgetting all of this. But she couldn't. She wouldn't make the little children growing inside of her, her children, become something for them to experiment on. So she ran, ducking into an alley, and so did they, cursing in low tones.
And that's how she ended up being chased by the two men, who had pulled their guns out of their coat pockets, and which were now clasped firmly in their beefy hands, the light of the street lamps reflecting morbidly off them.
Amelia snapped out of her memories, and again focused on the moment. She raced through the maze of alleyways, constantly moving, constantly turning. The men began to fall further and further behind. They didn't know the area like Amelia did, had never been forced to survive here. And that gave her the upper hand.
Hope began to fill Amelia's chest. She would be able to escape, and raise her babies in safety. She started to smile as she raced out of the alleyways and onto the pavement, imagining the life she would give her children. She could take the twins and emigrate, somewhere sunny maybe. Amelia thought of a large back yard, where the girls could paint their nails and talk about boys, or whatever it is little girls do together. Somewhere her children could ride their bikes in the street. Somewhere they could be safe, and grow up safe and happy.
She was so engrossed in this lovely vision of hers in her head, that she failed to notice the car that was speeding towards her as she pelted blindly across the road. She didn't see the car bonnet smash into her, violently slamming her to the ground. But she sure felt it, the cold steel crushing her bones to pieces under her fragile skin. As she lay on the floor, in a rapidly increasing pool of her own blood, her vision began to grow dim. Her hands frantically tried to cover her stomach and her madly kicking babies within, but when her hands came away red, she knew, with crushing certainty, it was too late. The darkness was pulling her down, and Amelia let it, sliding down into nothingness.
The last thing she saw before she fell to unconsciousness was two large men running towards her, silhouetted against the sickly yellow street lamp above her head. And then it all went black.
-
Amelia woke to the sound of beeping, and a peek through her partially closed eyelids revealed some sort of bright white light above her. She closed her eyes again in feeble defence against the piercing glare, and tried to go back asleep. She was so, so tired . She couldn't remember why though, it was all a little hazy. She was...sure she'd...remember it...later...
A sudden slap rocked her head to one side.
Amelia's eyes shot open, and she tried to lift her hands up to ward off her mystery attacker. However, she found she couldn't. She looked down, and found her wrists tightly secured to the side of the bed with twin leather straps, their whiteness standing out against her dark skin. A look at her ankles revealed that they too were tied to the bed. Her clothes had been changed, and she was now wearing a hospital gown of the palest blue.
Amelia's head darted around frantically, greedy eyes taking in her surroundings. If she could find a way out, she had a chance to run. A chance to escape with her babies. A chance . That was all she needed.
She was in what looked like a small hospital room. She was lying in a grey metal bed, covered by a thin blanket. Above her was a powerful white light, which caused her to wince slightly and look away. To the right of the bed was a table that had an alarming selection of knives and other instruments. There was another table at the end of the bed that seemed identical to the one on her right. The entire room looked bleached of colour, like a corpse that had been left for some time.
Amelia turned to her left, and came face to face with a short tanned man in a doctors coat, who had been watching her look about frantically with a bemused look. He had been leaning over her from the side of the bed, so when she had turned her head he was very, very close.
His age was hard to determine; he could have been anywhere from early 20s to late 30s. He had one of those faces that seemed ageless. The only clue to his age Amelia could determine was the beginning of crow's feet on the edges of his glasses covered eyes. She couldn't see a name tag on his coat. His dark brown hair was messy and uncombed, strands falling over his glasses, and stood in contrast to his pale, sweaty skin.
The man smiled slightly and straightened up. "Heh. Sorry about that, but you can't fall asleep just yet." He had an unpleasant, nasally voice, as if he had a clothes peg on his nose. He turned his back on her to pick something up, and Amelia reached out with her right hand, as far as she could with her wrist tied up. The table was just out of reach. If she could just manage to grab something...
The man turned around, eyes glued to the clipboard he held, and Amelia quickly pulled her hand back. "Yeah, you've got concussion." He raised his eyes up, and looked at her directly, a smile playing around the edges of his mouth.
"As your doctor, I'm recommending you stay in bed, and try and not fall asleep and die."
He smiled in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but was really anything but. It looked like the hungry grin of a wild cat, eyeing up its next meal. He turned round again and bent over the table, humming tunelessly.
Amelia frantically began to reach out with her hand, desperately trying to grab something. She flailed as quietly as she could, so the doctor didn't catch on. A quick look showed that he appeared to be writing something on the piece of paper stuck to the clipboard, so she figured she had some time.
Amelia focused her attentions on a pair of stainless steel scissors that lay close to the edge of the table. Her fingers were so, so close. She reached out, pulling with all her strength on the strap. The sides of her wrist scraped on her restraint, but she paid it no mind. She was almost there...
The tips of her fingers knocked the blades of the scissors, spinning them closer to the edge. Amelia stretched her hand as far as was possible and just managed to grab the handle.
Doing her best to contain her glee, she dragged the scissors silently off the counter. She held them in her hand, and after manoeuvring them to the right angle, she began to saw slowly back and forth across the strap that held her right wrist captive.
Amelia decided to say something. If she got him talking, he might not hear her cutting through her restraints. He may even give something away.
"Where am I?"
The doctor looked over to her, unease crossing his face for the first time, like a pale shadow on a summers day.
"...A hospital."
"What type of hospital?"
"A very good one."
"Why am I tied to the bed?"
The doctor looked at her, a hint of unease in his face. "Uh... for your own safety."
"Am I with Neolution?"
The doctor paused, and turned his back on her.
"You know, with that concussion, you should really just stop asking questions, ok? Doctor's orders. Now shush."
Amelia followed his brusque commands, to try and lure him into a false sense of security. She had seen this sort of thing in a movie once. She continued to slice away carefully at the straps, trying her best not to make a sound.
The doctor, still turned away from her, began to hum tonelessly, almost like a child, and Amelia's apprehension grew. She had never felt so unsafe in her life, even when being chased by the two Neolution thugs. That this man could hum happily, while he held a patient tied to a bed and handled things on that table that she didn't even want to think about, unsettled her so much that she began to hyperventilate. Her breaths came fast and hard, but the doctor just kept humming that damn tune, and appeared not to hear her.
She had to get out of this fucking bed. She had to get out right now. She gave one last hard upward motion with the scissors, and her arm suddenly came free from her restraints. The panic subsided somewhat, and she could think clearly again. She kept herself as still as possible, resisting the urge to pump her now untied fist.
She waited till he turned his back on her again, still humming inanely, and lifted her right hand, which held the scissors in a grip so hard her knuckles turned white, and began to cut away at the restraints that held her left arm. Now that she had some proper leverage, the job was much easier. She wasn't trying to be quiet now-she didn't care if the doctor heard. Let him come at her, let him see what fucking happens.
Her strap suddenly split, and both arms were now free. Unfortunately, the strap breaking free so violently caused a loud slapping sound, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the doctor whirl. She raised her head to face him as he saw she was free, and picked up a syringe full of a clear liquid that sloshed about as he advanced cautiously on her.
Amelia waited till he got close, then surged forwards, and with a burst of adrenaline fuelled strength she grabbed the doctor by his collar with her left hand, and brought the scissors in her right up to his throat. She pressed them in hard enough for a few drops of blood to slide lazily down his neck. His Adams apple bobbed nervously, and Amelia had to resist the urge to start dragging the scissors across to meet it. The syringe fell to the floor somewhere with a quiet tinkle.
"Where the fuck am I?"
The doctor's mouth clammed up , and Amelia pushed the scissors a little harder into his skin, and the sound of the doctor's pain filled gasp was like music to her ears. She thought of doing it again, but thought better of it; she needed information on how to get out of this place, and he seemed like her best bet.
"I'm going to say it again. Where, am, I. Tell me now, and I won't kill you."
The doctor looked at her in fear, and his mouth unclenched.
"I told you, we're in a hospital. You got ran over by a car, remember? You know, while pregnant? Do you know how close we were to losing the subjects? It wa-
Amelia pressed harder into his skin, still not enough to go too deep, but just enough to satisfy her anger for the moment. Her hand began to shake slightly, and she knew the doctor would have scars by the end of the night.
"The next time you call my babies subjects, will be the last time you can say words. Okay?"
The doctor looked a little confused, but croaked out a small "Sorry," nevertheless.
Amelia told him to keep talking, and the doctor started off again in that nasally voice of his.
"So as I was saying, it was very touch and go for a minute there. We had to use the new stuff to just stabilise you, and even then we almost lost the su-babies. The boss was not happy about the added expense, or the fact you're two months early, but we've all put far too much work into the experiment to try again now. You'll to be our control sample see, and-
"I don't care about any of that. All I want to know is how to get the hell out of here."
The doctor looked at her in surprise, and the fact that even with her knife to his throat he could still make those sort of expressions, as if this was just a normal day, made her blood boil.
"Well, you can't. Sorry." His face dropped a little as Amelia's face curled up in anger again. But behind his downed face, there was a sort of desperate exasperation.
"Weren't you listening? You got hit by a car! When you were pregnant! It's a minor miracle you aren't dead with number of bones you broke, and the fact that the babies survived is truly incredible. We've stabilised the condition for the moment, yes, but that condition is still pretty bad. We're supposed to perform a caesarean on you any minute now."
Amelia recoiled as much as she could while still keeping the knife firmly pressed to the doctor's throat.
"You want to cut my babies out of me?"
"I don't think you understand. It's much, much too early for the babies to come yet. But, the babies are dying in there. You've got an infection from the rusted metal of the car that we haven't been able to get rid of. It's nasty, let me tell you that. If we try and force a natural birth, the babies will have that disease. Which would fuck up the experiment, so that's not an option. And if you walk off, you may dislodge the babies, which would affect their development. So you can't do that either. Do you understand? You need us, or your babies, your twin little girls, will die.
Amelia sat in silence for a second, processing what the doctor had told her. If she let the doctors here help her, her babies would be alive. But then Neolution, whatever Neolution actually was, would have them. Have her babies. But then again, if she tried to leave, her babies would die. The doctor seemed to be telling the truth. And then again, what made her think she could even escape? There were probably loads of people here, and they might be looking for her. Amelia struggled with it for a second more, and then made her mind up.
"Fine. Give me a caesarean."
Amelia let go of the doctor's shirt, and pulled the slightly bloody scissors away from his neck. The doctor backed off, and grabbed a paper towel to clean up his scarred neck. She began to lie down on the bed, still cautious, her knuckles still white as she clenched the scissors in her firm grip.
"Now, I'll have to put you under sedation for this."
Amelia shot up again. The doctor was joking if he thought he could just send her to sleep after all this. If she was asleep, who would protect her babies?
"No."
"But it's going to be incredibly pai-"
"No."
The doctor sighed tiredly. "Fine, fine.
He took a step forward, looked at his feet, and knelt down at the foot of her bed. "Damn shoelace coming undone again..."
Amelia lay on her back, and tried not to think of the pain. How bad could it be, really? It couldn't be too-
A sharp pain shot up her leg. Amelia jerked herself up into the sitting position, and saw the doctor rising onto two feet, an unpleasant smile on his face. And in his hand, a now-empty syringe.
Immediately her vision began to dim, and a fog strayed over her mind. Her eyes flickered as she desperately tried to stay lucid. The doctor smiled at her, like a shark looks at a fish caught in a net, and it made Amelia want to claw her eyes out just so he would stop looking at her like that. Now that he didn't have to pretend anymore, his mask had fallen away. He looked at her coldly, clinically, but with a smile that was full of teeth. And then he looked away, without talking to her.
"Did you poison me? Hey, have I been poisoned? Are my babies gonna die? Tell me!"
Amelia's voice rose louder and louder with each second the doctor ignored her., until she was screaming, shrill and loud. But it got harder and harder to keep her voice loud, until she trailed off. She tried to flail her arms about, but they lay still and unresponsive. In a panic she tried to shift her legs, but they too refused to move.
The doctor, ignoring her struggles, adjusted some instruments on the table.
She could feel herself slipping farther and farther into unconsciousness, and tried to lift her hand-to do what, she didn't know. It was just so hard to think...
A face filled her vision, dark glasses contrasting against a pale face. He inched closer and closer, until Amelia could feel his hot, heavy breath on her face. She tried to recoil, deeply disturbed, but found she couldn't do so. She couldn't feel anything below the neck, which only increased her panic. Without an outlet for it, she felt trapped in her mind, bound by science. She could almost see the irony; the thing that gave her hope, her beautiful babies, was the thing causing her so much panic. Almost. The doctor began to speak.
"Not so confident now, are we? I just wanted to let you know; since we'll probably never see each other again...you're nothing. You always were, just a piece of trash whore that nobody's going to miss. But then again, that is why you were useful. Giving birth to the subjects," He says pointedly, smirking at her "our own little broodmare."
He stood up, and began to walk away from her, a spring in his step.
Amelia tried to speak, tried to plead, tried to cry, but she couldn't. Everything just felt so heavy, so hard, so exhausting. She felt the call of sleep, and gave in. The tendrils of the drug pulled her down, and then she was gone.
Amelia woke, and she couldn't breathe.
Wherever she was, it was cold and stifling. Her back lay on something hard, and someone had pulled a stiff, plasticky sheet over her head. She raised her hands up, intending to pull the offending material off her head, and realised that it completely enclosed her.
She felt her fingers brush a closed zipper down the centre line of her chest, and realised with a start that she must be in a body bag.
Her fingers dropped with shock, and her hands smacked against her bandage clad belly. A belly that was significantly reduced in size, now that she didn't have a bump where it should be. Tears began to prick her eyes as she realised the implications of what that meant. Her babies were gone. Her babies were gone. Her babies were gone.
Suddenly, it was all too much for Amelia. She'd been an unwilling experiment, chased by thugs, run over, kidnapped, been taunted by a fucking psycho, and her babies, her beautiful baby twins, were gone. And she exploded.
Tears began to stream down her face. Her mouth opened up in a scream, and her limbs thrashed within the limited space of the body bag. The realisation hit her again, just as terrifying as before; that she was in a fucking body bag, made her screams reach new heights.
She didn't know how long she lost her mind. It could have been a minute, or an hour. But eventually Amelia stopped crying, and her movements stopped. She had no more energy left. She'd bet any money she couldn't even walk at this point. To her great surprise, a few seconds after she'd stopped moving, the zip above her head began to be pulled downwards, as if by the hand of God. Blinding light streamed in through the ever widening hole, until her head was sticking out of the body bag.
Amelia gathered her strength, and tried to lift her head. She only managed a few centimetres until a cold, circular object was pressed onto her forehead, gently forcing her back down. Amelia's eyes flickered as she tried to see past the blinding light, and just about managed to make out a dark blurry shape that had the faint outline of a man. And in the blurry shape's hand,pressed to her head, was a gun. If Amelia had any strength in her, she would have moved. But as it were, even lifting her head a tiny amount had drained her. She was broken. The blurry shape began to speak in low tones.
"Sorry about that. I didn't want to disturb you while you were having your... moment. The boss said to bring you down here for convenience; since you were coming here anyway, it'd be, you know, more efficient to do it here.
Amelia wet her lips, and tried to speak. It felt like gargling sandpaper, but she pushed through the discomfort.
"Do...what?"
"Uhm, kill you. Sorry about that."
Surprisingly, Amelia didn't feel worse. It felt as if there was a bubble around her feelings now; she felt blissfully empty. Well, almost empty. There was still one bleeding sore that refused to go away.
"Did...my girls...get away?"
"...Yeah. Yeah they did love. You did it."
Amelia sighed, happiness seeping over her sore, cooling it, healing it. Her babies were free. They could have that dream she'd wanted for them, the dream of painting nails and riding bikes and big back gardens. They'd be safe.
She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, she didn't hear the blurry shape above her cock the hammer of his gun, and pull the trigger without hesitation. She was dead before the smile left her face.
The doctor was tired. He'd been up for 14 hours, what with his normal shift, and subjects needing emergency c-sections, he was understandably a little weary. His legs felt weighed down, as if attached to great lead blocks, but he still stood, looking down on the subjects he had delivered. It had been a tough birth, but it had been worth it. But now he was looking forward to getting back to his cushy little flat, and getting some shut-eye. And yet...he felt obligated to look at them. It wasn't anything foolish and sentimental, it was purely scientific. Monitoring the subjects was paramount in importance at this point.
His neck twinged in pain. The doctor rubbed at the self-applied bandage that held the cuts on his neck closed, and hoped the bitch hadn't scarred him. But then he thought of her fate, and smiled inwardly. She'd paid for it alright.
As he was quietly revelling in his victory, the boss walked up next to him. He was a tall, broad shouldered man, and somehow looked both stoic and contented. He had bristly grey hair, cropped close to his head. He wore a light grey suit that made him seem like an extension of the corridor, like he belonged there.
He had bristly grey hair, cropped short. And below his crinkled forehead, and above his dark eyes, were the most spectacular pair of eyebrows he had ever seen in his life. They were both bushy and pitch black, standing in sharp contrast to his pale hair. The doctor didn't know how he'd missed them before. He tried not to stare, and looked away. The silence between them dragged, the doctor growing ever more uncomfortable. It got to a point where the doctor's skin began to crawl, and he felt the urge to speak growing inside him.
"So...that went well."
The boss didn't look at him as he spoke.
"First of all, that went well who? Your friend in a bar? A streetwalker perhaps, prowling to your window? Who are you talking to, Wallace?"
The boss's voice was quiet, and tinged with a slight accent that Wallace couldn't place. He didn't look at him as he talked, still staring intently at the two subjects.
"That went well sir."
"That's better. And two; how on earth could you think that went well? Our carrier found out about us far too early, ran through the streets of London at seven months pregnant, and got hit by a car! We have no way of knowing how it's effected the subjects. Science can only tell us so about how they'll develop as they grow up. And that's unacceptable. Combine that with the fact you got overpowered by a pregnant woman," He looked at Wallace with faint disdain present in the twist of his mouth, and then returned to staring at the subjects, "Well, you're lucky you performed an exemplary caesarean on the carrier. Any less, and you would've been in the body bag next to little Amelia."
The doctor tried to contain his alarm, and kept to the safe option of studiously staring at the subjects.
The boss turned his head and looked at him. Wallace did his best to look at his eyes it's polite his nanny had once said, but the casual menace in those dark depths tested his willpower.
"Now, we've got some real work to do. I want a report on the twin's health on my desk by the end of the night, is that clear? Also, pass on a message to the boys in Behavioural Psch to come up with some good names for them both. They should already have some selections up there, but seeing as our plans have had to be accelerated a bit, we'll need something to put on the paperwork." He looked at Wallace standing there, afraid to move.
"...I'm done."
"Oh OK, I'll be going sir." Wallace hurried off down the corridor, wanting to be out of his boss's presence as soon as he could.
"And get a coffee in you."He heard the boss call out as turned a corner of the corridor. "You look like you're going to drop dead." There was a smile in that voice that made Wallace shiver involuntarily.
He moved away quicker, leaving his boss to stare at the subjects. His subjects now. His twins.
Sorry for the long wait, exams have been a bitch.
I apologise for any continuity errors or spelling mistakes in this; I've spent so long on this I just wanted to get this out of my fucking documents folder and onto here. Also, I have no beta, so there's that.
I just want to clarify, this is the point of divergence. In canon it mentions that Amelia got away, but doesn't mention how. So for the sake of this story, imagine that she was a little more careful when crossing the road while running away from the Neolution goons, and wasn't hit. But for this story, she was hit by the car. Which led to a premature birth, then an emergency c-section, and then she died. It hasn't really been one of Amelia's best days, has it?
And I promise that next chapter you'll actually get to see some proper Sarah and Helena, this was all just setting the stage a little. Now that my exams are over, I should be able to write more, though I've got a Ghost!Helena fic thing I'm getting into, so that may be up before a new chapter. Or it may not, I'm not really sure. Please make sure to give me some feedback. It's an instant pick me up, believe me.