IV

After she'd watched Sarah pass in and out of two separate dreams, Helena stood from her chair and stretched. She went to the light and switched it back on, jarring the sleeping woman awake. She wanted to leave her with the memory of her presence just as she had fallen asleep, so she slipped out of the room silently before the prisoner's eyes opened.

In the upper level of the ship she pressed her hand to a foggy window and wished to be outside. Across the harbor a group of men were working to haul a boat out of the water. A morning breeze was rolling in and they stood with their gloved hands in their pockets, shifting from foot to foot in the bitter cold. In a few minutes the bottom of the vessel had broken the surface, a curtain of water falling from its sides. As it was pulled higher into the air by the machine Helena suddenly noticed the figure of a man who had been standing on another part of the pier, previously obscured by the boat. He didn't appear to have any reason to be there, and as she studied him she realized he was looking in the direction of the freighter.

It could have been a coincidence, he could just be enjoying the sunrise, but Helena's hand dropped to her pocket to rest instinctively on the hilt of her knife. She memorized his silhouette and continued to watch him, a stock-still sentry, as she waited for Tomas to return.

By the time he did the sun was at its highest point. The mystery figure had disappeared some time ago and the harbor was mostly clear of people. Tomas moved slowly down the walk and pretended to be inspecting a ship nearby. He looked around the area and then, upon deciding that it was safe, boarded the freighter.

Helena didn't allow any time to pass. As soon as he entered the ship she rushed towards him and wrapped her arms around him, dropping the key into his back pocket swiftly. Tomas pushed her away roughly soon after.

"Don't lie to me child: did you take the key?"

Helena shook her head. Tomas grabbed her by the front of her coat and shook her.

"You're lying, I know you took it. There's no other explanation, it couldn't have fallen out."

"Did you check pants pockets?" Helena suggested, raising her eyebrows earnestly. Tomas paused in his anger and shot her a look, before reluctantly releasing her and feeling each of his pockets. When he found the object in question he visibly relaxed, though his face was still slightly suspicious and embarrassed.

"I swear I put it in my jacket…"

He shook his head and pulled something else from his pocket, some cash tucked inside of a folded piece of paper.

"It took a while to check the name, and all I managed to find out was a possible work place. I want you to go see if you can spot the sheep there." He unfolded the paper and held it out to her. "That's the name, the place, and some directions."

Helena took the notes and cash and went to the door. Tomas snapped his fingers and she turned to look, just in time to catch a key that he tossed at her.

"While you're at it, look around the places you found that one," he said, gesturing in the direction of the room where Sarah was trapped. "Maybe one of them will be around there. But be discreet. Take the van, don't let anyone notice you."

"Of course."

Helena was not the best driver; no license, only a few lessons from a very impatient Maggie Chen, who had never liked to spend too much time around her. So she decided to go to the shop on foot, needing to stretch her legs anyway, and then come back afterwards for the van so that she could avoid driving on the busiest streets, where other cars always honked at her.

The sheep's workplace was a humble family-run coffee shop. When Helena swung the door open a little bell jingled, causing her to look up in surprise. At the counter a pretty girl with short brown hair was standing in front of an expansive list of different drinks. Helena couldn't understand most of them; she stood staring at the sign apprehensively for a moment before approaching the counter. It was then that she noticed the selection of desserts displayed behind glass to the left of the register. She swiped her tongue along her lips unintentionally.

"Hello," the girl behind the counter said. "Can I help you?"

"I need one of those." Helena pointed to a raspberry pastry.

"And would you like a drink to go with that?"

"Yes." She paused, the barista waiting with a wary look only slightly concealed behind a faint smile.

"We have a really nice caffè latte," she suggested as the bell rang and another patron walked in.

"Coffee?"

"Mhmm, espresso with steamed milk."

"Okay, good. I would like the caffè latte."

The girl looked relieved and put in the order to another employee who was working in the back. As she typed the numbers into the register Helena glanced at her name tag- Carly, it read in black print.

"For here, right?" Carly asked. Helena nodded. "That'll be five fifty."

She handed over all of the bills Tomas had given her, and took the change and pastry from the barista.

"Tim will bring the coffee over to your table in a minute."

Helena chose a seat at the back of the shop, facing the counter. She could not help but eat the pastry before her drink even arrived, licking the saccharine red jelly from her fingers when she had finished. The coffee she drank much more slowly, taking her time and watching customers come and go, her hood pulled protectively around her face. Nobody bothered her for a while until finally Tim came over again.

"I'm gonna need you to buy another drink if you want to stay here," he told her.

Helena handed him some of her change, enough for another cup of the same. He had just placed the steaming beverage on her table when the bell rang again. Tim straightened and waved at someone behind Helena.

"Hey, Chris," he said. Helena perked up at the name. She watched a skinny young woman walk to the back of the shop and pull her dyed blonde hair into a messy ponytail. Helena's shoulders sunk in disappointment when the woman turned around, revealing a gaunt, unfamiliar face. It was not the face of a sheep. Tomas must have gotten the wrong Christina.

Just to check, Helena brought her pastry wrapper to the garbage near the counter and tried to see the new girl's nametag. She could just make it out. Christina.

She returned to her table and finished her coffee, hand tightened in frustration around the cup. As she was staring at Christina disdainfully her eyes wandered back to the food display, and an idea hit her. She rifled through the remaining bills and walked over and handed them to Carly.

"Can I have one more of these?" she asked, pointing at the same pastry she had enjoyed. The girl bagged the dessert and Helena took it happily and headed back to the van. Perhaps she would have more luck with the other assignment.

She parked a little way down from the house where she'd found Sarah and her daughter together. She'd already been to the townhouse that belonged to Beth and Paul, but nobody was home. As she waited in the residential street she wondered if Paul missed Sarah; the idea that she was now closer to Sarah than the others in her life brought Helena a sick satisfaction.

She had never wanted to hurt Sarah in the beginning, just wanted to be her friend, to be close to her. But as time went on she'd felt even lonelier, a pit opening in her stomach, like she hadn't realized a part of her had been missing until now. When she'd seen the child she had realized that it was impossible for her to keep Sarah near for long; they belonged to different worlds, and Sarah had a beautiful life with this angel ahead of her, a life that resembled in no way whatever future Helena had in store for her. She was darkness and somehow Sarah had light.

Taking her had been an attempt to make some of that light her own, although by force.

Helena sighed and looked at the house. It seemed empty, as though no on were living in it. Mrs. S., the woman mentioned in the child's letter, must have taken her and gone somewhere else to hide, in case Helena returned.

After watching for a while longer she put the key in the ignition and pulled away.

When she returned to the freighter the sun was already a red ball sinking beneath the watery horizon, what was left of it in sight melting behind the curtain of rain that had begun to fall. Helena parked the van and took her time walking the pier, enjoying the feeling of the rain kissing her head. When she reached the entrance of the ship she turned and looked back to where she had seen the man that morning.

Once on the freighter she shook the rain from her coat and headed down to the lower deck. In the stairwell she could hear a drip falling steadily from a leak in the metal ceiling of the boat. When she got to the bottom and had walked a few paces a drop of water landed on her head and she brushed it from her wild hair. The steady metronome rhythm of the leak momentarily disrupted, she could suddenly make out a pair of voices echoing from further along the narrow passageway.

Knife already in hand, she stalked toward the sound. At the next corner she pressed herself to the wall and poked her head around to get a look. She could see the glow of a flashlight illuminating the rusted walls, painting them a burnt orange. The light was coming from the next area, the large storage space that she slept in, right next to the room where they were keeping Sarah.

Helena turned her ear toward the hallway, the voices understandable now.

"How did you find us?" She could tell that this was Tomas, his voice excited but slightly pained.

"We followed your van. Pretty good hiding spot, but you made a mistake when you took that woman."

"Not as big of a mistake as you made when you created her."

The light from the flashlight jerked up and down. Helena realized that the second speaker must be facing in her direction. She circled back to cut through another room and get behind him.

"I didn't create her, I'm just trying to keep her safe," she could hear the stranger say. He had a rough voice stripped of inflection. "Where's the other one, the killer? Is she with Sarah somewhere?"

"You won't find them."

Helena slipped out of a cramped control room and into the hallway that led to the back of the cargo area.

"I would really consider cooperating with me," the stranger warned.

Helena had the two in sight now, as she crouched carefully behind a container. The trespasser held a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other, trained carefully on Tomas. It cast ghoulish shadows on the older man's pale face, which was creased with pain. Helena scanned his body for injury and saw that he had a hand clamped against his leg, the fingers stained with red.

She moved to get behind another container further up, planning to inch closer until there were no more empty containers and she was close enough to use her knife. She had left her gun on the ship before she'd gone out earlier that day. Just as she reached cover the stranger whipped around. Helena ducked behind the crate as he turned and watched the flashlight's beam circle the room.

"Is she locked up somewhere? Do you have a key?"

Tomas' only response was the sound of his slightly heavy breathing. The stranger's boots scuffed against the floor as he stepped forward.

"Is she dead? Answer me, you sick fuck, or the next shot won't be in your leg."

This time when Helena moved forward she made sure that Tomas could see her, waiting until he looked up in her direction. He blinked in surprise and looked away quickly to keep from revealing her position, but she could see his eyes fill with confidence. She was close now- it was only a matter of waiting for the right opportunity.

"I'll only tell you that she's not here, and if you kill me you can be sure that you'll never find her, dead or alive."

The man took better aim. "I think you're wrong," he said through gritted teeth. "Your psycho will make some kind of mistake without her boss to control her, and she'll lead us straight to Sarah."

"Maybe." Tomas shifted slightly in his seat. "Or maybe she'll be angry, and there won't be anyone left alive for you to find."

There was a pause in which she could feel the stranger's frustration taking over him, and then Tomas stood abruptly, surprising both of the others in the room. The man began to shout at him to sit down, clearly confused at how to handle the situation. His agitation was the opening that Helena needed- she withdrew her saran-wrapped pastry from her pocket and threw it against the far wall just slightly behind him, startling the intruder. He spun in the direction of the sound just as Helena lunged toward him, twisting his gun and wrenching it from his grip with one hand while simultaneously drawing the knife across his throat quick and deep with the other. She saw his blood before she'd even seen his face, spraying across the floor and down her hand. He staggered forward and turned to face her, choking helplessly, and she plunged the knife into his stomach to ensure that he was finished. As she drew the blade upward she realized that the face looked familiar. He sank to the ground, familiar features gaping in shock.

"Hello, Paul," she breathed.

He died staring straight at her. She saw the light fade from his handsome eyes and then looked at his neck, where the blood was beginning to clot but still ran red in some spots.

She'd watched him with Sarah once, on the day that he'd come to the station unnecessarily. Her hand had come to rest on that same neck with ease and Helena's whole body had ached. What would it be like to touch so casually, she'd wondered, as their lips had met and their eyes had closed.

The emptiness in his face now seemed fitting of a man who had known so little of what he'd become involved in.

Tomas limped over and broke Helena's thoughts. He pressed the soul of his shoe against the side of Paul's face, turning his vacant eyes to the stare unseeingly into the floor.

"A fool, although he stayed alive longer than the others. There were two more with him; they split up and he caught me by surprise. But I'm fine." He didn't sound fine, he sounded shaken, and Helena resented the weakness.

"The others are dead?"

"Yes, shot. You knew this one? Who was he?"

"A sacrifice," Helena murmured. She crouched and turned Paul's face again to look up at the ceiling, tracing his lips with her thumb. He was hers now, no longer a part of that world that she didn't belong to. Death was her means of connection, the only thing that she'd been given, the only thing that belonged to her.

Until Sarah. Very much alive Sarah, for whom she'd had to kill this man. The thought that he had once belonged to Sarah made Helena feel warmness toward Paul. Owning him was just another way of owning her.

Carefully, she bent over Paul and pressed her lips to his. They were cold and left her feeling emptier than before, and she pulled away after a second crawled by.

Tomas grabbed the back of her coat and pulled her up to her feet. "Focus!" he barked in revulsion. "There could be more coming, fools that they've managed to convince to do what they want. We need to leave, tonight. I have a place. Give me the keys to the van, you go get her out of that room and ready to come with us."

They exchanged keys and he left to tend to his leg and to the van. Before she went to the other room Helena picked up the pastry from where it had landed on the floor. She wiped some of the blood splatter off on the inside of her coat and tucked it back into her pocket.

Sarah was alert when the door next opened- she had been waiting for it, after hearing the distinct thunder of gunshots disturb the vacuum of silence that she'd become accustomed to. Dozens of explanations had flitted through her worried mind; had they captured someone else, had someone found them and come to free her? What would she do if Tomas had died and no one ever unlocked this room, leaving her to waste away to nothing?

No, Helena had proven herself far too adept at self-preservation to be killed in her own hiding place, she had decided. And then as if on cue the door opened and Sarah craned her neck to see the aforementioned woman enter the room.

Emerging through the doorway she looked different than usual, wilder. Her blonde mane was wet and flattened against her head, the dark roots showing through. It made her look more recognizably human, softer somehow but not any more vulnerable. More startling was the blood drying on her green coat and her skin, illuminated a fresh red by the light. She approached Sarah more quickly than usual and crouched behind the chair, removing the cuffs.

"What's happening? I heard-"

"We have to go." Taking hold of Sarah's now-freed wrists she began to ease her shoulders forward, before separating her hands and bringing her arms to the front of her. After being so still for so long the movement caused Sarah to gasp in pain. She inhaled slowly, the more relaxed position allowing her to breath better. Helena studied her for a moment and then bound her wrists again.

"Come," she said. "Stand up."

Sarah shook her head, suddenly filled with a desire to escape. If she went with Helena help might never find her. She should have known that she'd end up having no choice, but right then a voice inside instinctively urged her not to willingly participate in their escape.

"It will be easier if you help," Helena warned. She took hold of Sarah's arm, trying to lift her out of the seat. Sarah pulled against her.

"Fucking let go of me!" she snarled, exhausted and tired of being manhandled.

"Tomas will be angry if you take too long. You will have to come, awake or not."

Sarah considered the prospect of facing Tomas' rage. Her head already felt muddled and painful; she wasn't sure she'd be of any use to herself or others if she were injured further.

"Please, Sarah." Helena's grip on her arm was tightening to a painful degree and she couldn't think well anymore.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

She heard someone come into the other room and the noise broke her of her daze. She leaned forward to get her balance and stood. But as soon as she was on her feet her head began to pound and her vision swam with blinding, dizzy light. Helena was trying to hold her up by her arm but her legs shook and her knees buckled, sending her to the floor. She leaned on her bound hands, wincing as her broken fingers dug into the damp concrete, and swallowed back the bile rising in her throat.

Helena left her side and returned with the water bottle. Sarah managed to recover enough to drink a little, before she was ready to try again. With the blonde supporting a large amount of her weight she was able to drag herself to the doorway, strength slowly returning to her stiff limbs.

They stepped into the connected room, a much wider area with sparse furniture. It was the first time she was able to get a sense of where Helena had taken her; some kind of industrial space. In the darkness her eyes found a body lying awkwardly on the other side of the room. Blood stained the walls around him like a scene from a horror movie; she could smell it hanging in the air, a nauseating presence of death.

"Leave him," Helena said, her voice sounding strangely haunted. Sarah ignored her and pulled away to get nearer to the body.

Up close, the identity of the dead man was unmistakable. Time seemed to freeze as Sarah's mouth hung open in shock, her mind clouding over with disbelief.

"What did you do?" she whispered into the air, not sure to whom she was directing the question.

In death he looked more innocent, and all she could see when she looked at him was the man she had first seen in the photographs in Beth's apartment, the clueless boyfriend she'd had to trick. She felt dirty, staring at his disfigured neck, his glassy eyes. Suddenly the walls seemed to close inward, her situation made more real by this loss.

Helena's arm was around her waist again before she had even realized her moving, and Sarah looked down at the other woman's hand to find it smeared with dried blood. Her skin itched and she repeated her previous question.

"He was going to kill Tomas, take you away from me."

"He was going to take me back to where I belong," Sarah stammered, her voice strained. "With my family. You took me away from them."

Helena's treatment of her became more aggressive then, as she practically dragged a more resistant Sarah down a narrow hallway and up a staircase into the cold night air. By now she could tell that they were on some kind of ship; being outside should have felt like relief but all she could focus on was the track of blood coming from Paul's mouth, the sight burned into her mind.

Tomas was waiting for them on a boardwalk, his posture slightly lopsided and his face disgusted and impatient. The sight of him filled Sarah with hatred and vaguely she felt herself fight against him as he went to grab her from Helena, forgetting her decision to avoid angering him. She landed one good kick to his leg, causing him to double over before he roared in frustration and threw her to the boards, where she landed on her shoulder with a grunt. The fall jostled her head and she became dizzy again, giving him the opportunity to pick her up and carry her to a white van in a parking lot. Helena opened the doors and Tomas threw Sarah in the back before slamming them shut again without a word.

She leaned her back against the side of the van, shivering and listening to the rain accompany the sounds of the two conspirators talking outside. Her good hand curled into a fist and she kicked out at the air, wondering if anything could get worse.

Then the doors opened again, and the blood stained hand of her captor came into sight, followed by the woman herself. She sat down opposite Sarah just as the front door thudded shut and the engine came to life.

"There is no room in front," she said, "so I ride with you."

The sound of gravel shifting under the tires as the van pulled forward drowned out Sarah's defeated sob.