III.

Sarah had memorized the sound of Tomas' footsteps; the impression of those boots striking the steel floor had been ingrained so vividly in her addled mind that she had begun to hear him coming even when he wasn't. In this void she was trapped in, where the world was stripped of time and reality, constants like the footsteps or a drip in the ceiling were all that she had to ground herself.

At first she'd been unable to stop thinking about the mess of a life she'd left behind her in the alley- Olivier and the Neolutionists, Cosima's Dr. Leekie, her attempts to unearth some of her past in Britain. Kira, whom she'd last seen crying out in the middle of the city. Imprisonment by religious lunatics was not a variable she had anticipated while knee deep in that shit storm, and it seemed impossible that she could now be so isolated from the rest of the chaos. Once she'd come to accept the reality of her situation she'd tried to brainstorm escape plans, but nothing came to mind. As the hours passed by in a haze the outside world melted away; her only priority became her ailing body.

She was sure that she had now gone days without sleep. At first she just couldn't seem to rest; her brain skipped and ran, refusing to shut down. She'd never had a head wound before but she imagined it must be the cause, combined with stress. Then, when the exhaustion became powerful enough that it might have overpowered all else, Tomas had brought a bright light into the room and positioned it a foot away from her face. He came in to disturb her every time she was close to drifting off, hadn't given her nearly enough food to ward off the pangs of hunger that tore at her stomach. Anything to keep her awake.

Just as the little electric shocks of sleep were beginning to jolt through her bones once more, she heard Tomas' footsteps coming from the hall as if on cue. Head bowed, Sarah's eyes followed his legs as they stepped past her to sit in a chair that had been placed opposite hers.

"How are you feeling?" the gargoyle asked. "Tired?"

"Not much," Sarah sneered. As if in disagreement her stomach rolled with nausea from lack of sleep and she grimaced. She thought she saw a smile on Tomas' face.

"You know, the faster you realize that I can help you if you just give me the names, the faster you will be saved."

Sarah sighed in exasperation. She was too hungry and exhausted to listen to this, though she was sure that was the point.

"You're still feeding me that line? We've been through this, mate. I'm not like your little pet in there. You can't brainwash me into believing your religious bullshit."

"You don't know God," he replied, echoing his disciple's earlier words. When Helena had spoken them they'd been the words of a true believer, someone overcome by the reality of a faith that they had learned to depend on. Rolling off of Tomas' tongue they sounded like a weapon.

"There may come a time, sooner than you can imagine, that you might feel there's no choice but to turn to your Lord. Just like I realized I had no choice but to undertake this mission when I discovered the Neolutionists' work."

Despite her weariness and the danger that this man presented Sarah couldn't help but roll her eyes at this last statement.

"There is another option. You could just let me go, forget about the crusade. You're not the one who's been brought into this unwillingly."

"Unfortunately, I don't have much of a choice either. Once you know of sin's existence, you too are guilty of it, if you choose to do nothing. My faith compels me to act in the name of the lord."

"So killing innocent women is God's will? I'm no bible expert, but I'm pretty sure 'thou shalt not kill' is in there somewhere."

Tomas didn't even blink.

"You just get off on it, don't you?" Sarah sneered. Her captor's face was unreadable but he scooted his chair forward, so close that Sarah's entire body shrank away as much as her restrained position would allow.

"It is unfortunate," he said coldly, "that in order to send the Neolutionists a message, blood must be shed." Looking into his dead eyes, Sarah was sure that he didn't consider it unfortunate at all. "But the true crime is in your existence, not your deaths."

He threaded a finger through her hair, another sensation she'd become familiar with. Tomas seemed to have a fascination with hair. Sarah closed her weary eyes in response to the contact. It was a mistake. Sleep rushed at her at once, and when Tomas slid his hand to the back of her head and jerked it forward the abrupt jolt back to awareness made her feel worse than before. She peeled her eyes open to look at him and tried to recover the thread of the conversation. She thought that the more she talked to the man, the more he might come to view her as a person. Or at least that he might be preoccupied with the conversation, and wouldn't feel the need to get his entertainment through other means.

She thought of all the women he'd killed so far, the lives he'd stolen. Had they even known why?

She was about to ask a question, but as she swallowed to sooth her dry throat a cough jerked from her lungs. Tomas disappeared behind her briefly and returned with a water bottle in hand. He unscrewed the cap, and Sarah moved her hand to take it before remembering that her arms were now pinned behind her back, rendered useless. As Tomas held the bottle to her lips she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, tired of being forced to accept help from her captor for something as simple as drinking.

"Come, Sarah Manning," he taunted. "Even clones need to drink."

The water was a blessing as it slid down her throat. Tomas only allowed her a few sips before pulling the bottle away. Finished drinking, Sarah was suddenly aware of her body trying to shut down again. The room spun and her head dipped heavily towards her shoulder. Her vision began to swim out of focus, undulating darkness fighting to dominate light. The former was the victor for a moment as she faded out of consciousness, but next thing she was ripped from sleep by a hand squeezing her arm, strong fingers that pressed against the muscle so forcefully that they left bruises in the skin.

"You can sleep once I have a name," she heard Tomas growl, though his voice was still muffled as it filtered through her dulled senses. She groaned, and the sound became a pitiful whimper as Tomas shook her again, rekindling the pain in her head. He moved behind her, one hand on her shoulder, mouth by her ear. "I've been very patient and kind with you, in my opinion. This is your last chance to give me the information I want."

"Can't," she breathed. Her chest felt like a weight was pressing down on it.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

A moment passed and Sarah said nothing, hoping he would leave her to rot in the room alone. But without warning she felt him grab her pinkie and twist it outward. She felt the pain lance through the broken joint before her ears registered the snap. Her own scream was all that she could focus on for a moment as she rocked back and forth in the chair, muscles tensed and pulling in panic against Tomas' grip. She tried to think of something to say, in shock at the suddenness of his action, but before she could even sputter out a "wait" he had grabbed her ring finger. Her heart flew to her throat and she shouted for him to stop but there was a second snap. As he grabbed the third finger Sarah managed to gather her senses.

"I'll give you a name!" she shouted. Tomas was pressing her finger backwards slowly. Sarah's mind raced. Just as he was reaching the limit of her flexibility a name rose from the fog of her consciousness. It was an old name, buried in the past she'd left behind when she'd decided to get good for Kira. She lived under the radar- the name would be traceable, but not easily.

"Christina! Christina Dillon."

There was an unbearable pause, and then Tomas let go. "There," he said with bridled excitement. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Fuck yourself," she managed to choke out, voice jittery. The pain in her hand was overwhelming; she had nowhere to channel it, unable to move and direct it outward. She thought she could feel Tomas smiling behind her. He squeezed the two broken fingers cruelly before he left.

Helena was in the midst of eating the last of the newly purchased food when she heard the screams in the other room. She let the half-bitten cracker fall to the floor and turned in the direction of the haunting noise. In a moment Tomas had come into view, passing her as he went to pick up some of his belongings from a table in the corner.

"We've got a name," he informed her from over his shoulder. Helena was surprised- it had only been three days since she'd brought Sarah here. And, from what she could tell, Tomas had been patient with her up until now; there had been no blood or yelling, no evidence of violence. She couldn't imagine Sarah giving in so quickly- her power over Helena was too strong; she had to be more resilient than that. Something like disappointment swirled in the blonde's stomach.

"One of us has to stay here to keep watch, and I need to get out of this place. I'm not used to it. I'll go to investigate and you'll stay."

Usually Helena was desperate to escape the confines of wherever they were hiding at the time, but right now staying sounded perfect. Tomas had gotten too much time with Sarah; she had been the one to bring Sarah and she should be the one who got to get the names from her, got to bring her water. She wanted to know why she had screamed. Eyes alight with jealousy she watched her partner closely, fixated on only one thing.

"If this information is good, our job will be much easier." Tomas tucked a cell phone into his pants pocket and came closer. "The sheep broke more easily than I anticipated." He was smiling, and Helena knew he wanted her to share the smile, so she did.

"We're getting closer," he said.

Tomas wrapped his arms around her in an embrace that felt like ownership and as he pulled her into him Helena brought her hand up against his chest, right over his jacket pocket. She let her fingers creep imperceptibly into the space and smiled as she they brushed a hard, flat object resting against the rough fabric. Tomas' lips moved against her hair. "We're doing well, child. Are you ready for what comes next?"

Helena nodded and lifted her prize from the pocket with two fingers. She tucked it safely against her palm as Tomas pulled away.

When she had watched him walk furtively away across the pier, she finally unfolded her hand and gazed at the key, rusted and small. Sarah's scream echoed in her head as she headed downstairs to the locked room.

The sound of the key to the door rattling inside its lock broke the silence, and dread rose within Sarah at Tomas' inevitable reaction. She had hoped that it would take him longer to investigate the name, but at this point she wasn't sure how much time had really passed. She felt like she might have fallen asleep but she couldn't be sure; her memories had become unreliable, minutes forgotten after passing. But her eyes still burned and her throat felt bruised. Exhaustion still weighed on her heavily.

The footsteps that approached her chair were softer than she had grown accustomed to, so quiet that she thought she must be imagining them. She turned to see Helena approaching from the doorway, a pale phantom that carried her limbs so heavily even as she seemed to drift soundlessly across the floor. Paradoxical, as usual. Despite what she knew about Tomas, what she imagined he was capable of, it was Helena who drove chills up her spine.

The blonde made no introduction, just peered at her. "Why did you scream?"

"He broke my bloody fingers, your savior." Sarah exhaled quickly with disbelief and anger, teeth landing on her lower lip. Some of the pain that had been dulled by avoidance returned upon acknowledgment of the injury. Helena was studying the mangled digits in question, brow furrowed as if she was puzzling something.

"You spoke a name," she murmured.

"Yea. I did. So could you maybe return the favor and turn off that goddamn light?" The words were meant to be defiant but they were tinged with a slightly hysteric tightness of breath that communicated desperation over anything else. Helena sidled to the light and stood beside it, one hand on the pole. Sarah wished she hadn't moved there, where looking at her was so painful. She could feel Helena staring at every inch of her sore face.

"You look like her," she said with wonder in her voice. The comment seemed to come from nowhere, confusing Sarah.

"Wha'?"

"The angel. You have the same eyes. You are blessed. Why?"

There was only one way that Sarah considered herself blessed.

"Kira," she murmured. With the mention of her daughter's name she became more alert. "You're talking about Kira." Helena nodded and her eyes went distant. "Listen, you stay the hell away from her, got it?"

"The child is not mine to take," Helena said, shaking her head.

The firm words put Sarah's worries to rest for a moment, but the relief faded. "What, like I am?" she asked as the meaning of the sentence registered with her. Their eyes met for a second and Helena's mouth curled into a faint smile.

"Whose name did you give?" she asked, abruptly changing direction once more. Sarah slumped forward in the chair. She was too tired for this conversation.

"The light, Helena."

"Who is the sheep?" the blonde persisted.

"Tomas can fill you in. Or is that your job- stalk 'em, go after 'em? He leaves all the dirty work to you."

"I watch, so I can understand."

"Understand how best to kill them, right?" The feeling of Katja's blood drying against her cheek returned to Sarah. Even when she had been distracted with everything else that had occurred after the German's death, the memory of her sudden demise had remained in her mind. She had never been able to shake the feeling of being watched, hunted.

"Were you watching me to understand? Bringing me here, that wasn't part of the plan, was it."

"I don't understand you."

Sarah closed her eyes as another wave of nausea hit her. As soon as she did, the red glow that had filtered through her eyelids from the light was suddenly extinguished. The darkness seemed to bring the heavy silence and stillness that Sarah needed; it seeped into her nerves like a drug and she felt her breath begin to slow.

"But I will, I think," Helena was murmuring, "now that you're here." Sarah flinched as she felt the blonde's hand come to rest on her knee, just as it had in Chen's apartment. She opened her eyes briefly, but the light had burned them and all she saw was black.

"Shh, Sarah," Helena whispered, stroking her knee with her thumb. "You rest now, yes?"

The blonde suddenly felt confusingly safe, and Sarah felt like she could cry as she was finally granted the mercy of sleep. She didn't understand Helena either, she realized, but she would take her over her emotionless master. She only hoped that Tomas would take a while to return, so that this time the sleep would last.