V

The van was flimsy; each pothole sent its unfortunate passengers lurching in every direction, sometimes dangerously close to one another. Sarah kept her eyes closed and attuned her senses to the world outside the vehicle. First she'd listened to the steady beat of rain, and when that had finally died away, she began to feel for each change in the road, every turn and stop. It kept her focused despite all that had and was happening.

Her diversion was eventually interrupted, however; the familiar voice across from her cut into her thoughts.

"You are cold."

Sarah opened her eyes reluctantly. Her drenched sweater was clinging to her icy skin, and she was suddenly aware of her teeth chattering. She brought her hands up against her chest, hugging her arms to the inside of her body. Helena was in the process of shrugging out of her coat but Sarah shook her head, looking away. She clenched her jaw to stop the shivering.

"I saved this for you," the blonde persisted. Sarah heard the sound of rustling plastic, and in her peripheral vision saw Helena slide something to her across the floor. She looked down. It was some kind of baked good, disfigured beneath the opaque creases in its wrapping.

Sarah's knotted stomach growled instinctively, but her eyes were fixed on the red jelly smeared against the inside of the plastic. An evocative, sick reminder.

"Oh, yea?" she ground out, picking up the dessert. "No thanks."

She crushed it between her hands, rendering it completely inedible. An ounce of unwanted remorse rose within her as her stomach growled again, and she dropped the food to the floor, telling herself that it wouldn't have relieved her hunger anyway. Helena's face twisted- with anger, hurt, disappointment, Sarah couldn't tell.

Good, she thought. She should be working on improving her relationship with her clone, or at least should have eaten the offering in case it was a while before another came, but this moment wasn't for her. It was for Paul, for the people who were worried about her, who might be in danger now because Helena had ripped Sarah right out of the middle of it all. Sarah had seen Helena eat; her food was precious to her. It may not be as precious as what she had taken from Sarah, but it was something.

The van hit another pothole before veering right. As it slowed to a stop Sarah could hear Tomas on the other side of the barrier, assumedly talking to somebody on the phone. Helena was alert now in the silence, radiating with anxiety.

The driver's door opened and slammed shut. Helena shifted back against the barrier so that she was facing the doors. Sarah watched her for a hint of what was to come, but she seemed equally in the dark about what was going on.

There was the sound of another car coming along the road. Sarah heard it pull up close to where they were parked and stop, the engine still running.

"Well?" A man's muffled voice, not Tomas'.

"They're in here."

"They?"

There was a click and the doors swung open to reveal the two men; Tomas in front, his hand still on the door handle, and a thinner man of about the same age peering in from behind him. The latter's pick up truck was parked behind them, its headlights still on and flooding the inside of the van with light. Sarah scooted backward, closer to Helena, whose attention was fixed on the stranger.

"Tomas?" she questioned without moving her gaze.

Tomas said nothing and turned to the other man. He had the eyes of a bug, protruding and vacant, and they flickered uneasily between the two women. When he spoke he didn't open his mouth fully, making his speech slow and muffled as if he were mumbling or speaking around some kind of obstacle.

"You brought me two of 'em? One wasn't enough for you?"

"It won't be trouble for you, trust me. Once we're at the farm I'll explain the situation."

The man paused, chewed his cracked lip in thought, ran a hand through prematurely graying hair. Sarah squinted past him at the surrounding area. For the most part there was unreadable darkness, the outlines of what could have been trees. The road was silent in a way not found in the city; they must be on a back road in the country somewhere.

"Why're they still alive, Tom?"

Tomas shifted uncomfortably at the comment, afraid to have that kind of talk in front of his pet, Sarah imagined. She glanced at Helena, who was practically baring her teeth at the stranger. She remembered what the cops had said about children raised in isolation; Helena probably didn't do too well with strangers, even ones that didn't want her dead, she imagined.

"It's been a long time, my friend. We haven't had a chance to stay properly in contact. Take us back with you and we can talk there."

The man pinched the bridge of his hooked nose and shook his head. "Fine, get 'em in the truck. They can stay in the old barn- I'm not having that kind of filth in my house. My wife wouldn't stand for it anyway." He turned to go back to his ride, tucking his hands in his pockets as if he didn't want to get them dirty. Sarah thought of calling out to him, trying to convince him to let her go, but she could already tell that it wouldn't work. She turned to Helena instead. The blonde was pressed into the back of the van like a cornered animal.

"You did not say there would be someone else," she muttered to Tomas.

"He's on our side. He can be trusted. Now get the prisoner into the truck so we can hurry and go." Still Helena hesitated, staring into the bright headlights as if danger were lurking behind them.

"Helena," Sarah tried, "he's going to get in between us. You heard him-"

"The only one getting in the way here is you," Tomas deftly cut her off, grabbing her by her bicep and yanking her from the back of the truck and onto the wet grass. Once she was outside of the van her clone followed more easily, leaping down beside the two of them and taking Sarah's arm from Tomas.

"Come, Sarah," she said in a dead tone. "Sometimes we must trust in God's plan."

"I don't like him."

"I know, but we need him, child. You'll be good here, won't you?"

Here: a cavernous barn the colors of mud and amber, air thick with dust, even colder than the ship had been. Helena gazed forlornly down the long aisle of disused stalls.

"Why can't we go somewhere else?" Her voice was a whine, and she saw that it made Tomas' eyes tired.

"There is nowhere else. You know how hard it was for me to find the ship while you were out working. This is a good, isolated place. It will give us plenty of time to get information and form our next plan. Speaking of which, what did you discover about the target?"

Helena shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "She…"

"Yes?"

"She was not a sheep, Tomas." She winced prematurely in anticipation.

"What do you mean?" he demanded with irritation. "Don't tell me you're convinced that this one is different, too."

"No. She is not one of them. You must have found the wrong Christina. Maybe there's another, in the city."

With concentrated anger Tomas dropped his arm from where he had been resting it on the top of a stall door, making the wood rattle in its hinges. Helena flinched violently as he turned to pace.

"No, no, there was just one listed. That devil must have given us a fake name. I should have known; she gave it up so easily. I thought she was just weak."

"She is not weak," Helena answered automatically. Then, thinking better of the response, added, "Maybe the sheep is… untraceable, somehow. Like me."

Tomas shook his head and walked toward the last stall at the end of the aisle, Helena close at his heels. He wrenched open the door, almost slamming it into Sarah, who was chained by one wrist to a metal rail on the adjacent wall. Helena could not see Sarah but she could hear her sharp inhalation and the cuffs rattling, as though she had raised her hands in a sign of submission.

"Do you think I'm a fool?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I assumed you would have a better instinct for self-preservation than to lie to me. Or maybe your loyalty really does run that deep. Shame, that it's misplaced."

"You mean…Christina? She's on the run, you might not be able to track her down."

Sarah's words were unconvincing; Helena could hear the lie in them immediately.

Tomas stepped further into the stall, and Helena was about to step in with him, but then the door on the opposite side of the barn opened and she turned to see the stranger looking in. They both stared at each other for a moment, unmoving, before she saw something curl up behind his eyes, and he looked away from her.

"Tomas!" he called past her loudly. There was a thud accompanied by the sound of Sarah's cuffs rattling again before Tomas emerged from the stall.

"Yes, Sutton?"

"The wife wants to welcome you with a late dinner. Let's not keep her waiting, a'right? And tie that one up-" he pointed a crooked finger at Helena- "before you come."

He left them alone in the silent barn, and Helena turned to Tomas, begging him silently with her eyes.

"I'm not going to do as he said, because I know that you won't betray me. And in return for me doing what you wish, I need you to do something for me, for our shared purpose, that should have been done earlier." He looked back at the stall, and Helena's heart dropped to her stomach. "Get me a name, Helena. Do whatever's necessary. It better be done by tomorrow morning."

He walked away, leaving Helena standing frozen in the straw, her field of vision narrowing to the lock on the door behind which Sarah lay waiting.

The silence magnified and grew loud in her head. She balanced on the balls of her feet, senses heightened, adrenaline pumping with nowhere to go. The walls of the stall closed in on her, narrowing her focus on the purpose in front of her. But she could not act.

One should not worship idols. Only God. God, not Sarah. Sarah leaning limply against the wall, silent, not yet broken but fracturing. We have a connection, Helena remembered. But she couldn't find it, staring into eyes where the fire that had burned bright was flickering. Had she done that?

Sarah had heard Tomas' words. She knew. Helena could see the knowing in those eyes. They were waiting, asking her if she could do what she'd been told, asking her to define where she stood. She had no answer.

To force herself to action she grabbed Sarah by the neck of her sweater, like Tomas always did to her. She snarled, shaking the other woman. "How can I make you see? Just give me the names." Sarah said nothing. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"Then don't," Sarah urged firmly. "You don't have to."

It sounded so simple, it felt right, and she wanted so desperately to take that option that her wanting made every muscle in her body go rigid. But her purpose; she was meant to be saving Sarah, not allowing herself to be tempted by her. Taking a deep breath she withdrew her knife from her pocket, letting the metal hover beside Sarah's face.

"If you tell me the name, I can stop." Sarah just continued to stare at her silently. She lowered the knife, telling herself not to look at that face. Just a sheep. Still just a sheep, despite their connection.

The knife dropped to the straw. Her hand flew to the sheep's soft neck. Squeezed tight. The sheep's hand reached up and clenched tightly around her wrist. She heard the familiar gasping, the panic rising vicariously in her own chest. She did not look. She counted, felt the breath die beneath her fingers. Then she let go.

Now she had to look, but only quickly, at the pain in front of her. "Do you have a name?" she asked automatically. Her only answer was Sarah's shaky breathing. Helena counted to ten, and reached out again.

This time the hand pulled harder on her wrist, clawing at her fingers. She heard strangled whimpering and growling. There was more movement, more fear, and then, slowly, stillness. Just before there was nothing left, she let go once more.

Tears were waiting to fall in Sarah's eyes. Helena looked away from them. She felt suddenly angry, that Sarah was willing to suffer for her love of the others. How could she love them and deny Helena? "Do you think you should suffer for the others?" she asked. "They are less than you. They have less to lose. They are empty. You- you created light."

The words sent the tears down Sarah's cheeks. Helena wasn't sure why she was crying, exactly, but she found that she suddenly wanted to cry as well.

"Helena." Her voice was a thin whisper. "I'm not the only one who can create light. You can, too. It starts… with leaving Tomas."

Helena shook her head. Even if Tomas was darkness, his absence was not necessarily light. It was nothing. It was being alone.

She brushed her fingers over Sarah's neck again, making her breathe faster as she tried to hold back tears.

"When Tomas tells you to do something, doesn't it feel wrong?" she reasoned. The sentence seemed to take all of her breath and she slumped back, swallowing thickly. She gestured with her free hand to her neck. "Doesn't this feel wrong?"

Yes, Helena thought, looking at the raw skin. Yes, but she couldn't allow herself to indulge such thoughts. In an effort to clear her mind she began to tighten her fingers again. Just as she did, though, Sarah's eyes grabbed and held her own, and she was unable to look away. The sight of such desperation and vulnerability was too familiar, and she suddenly felt unbearably sick as she watched Sarah struggle. Gasping, she ripped her hand away and pushed herself back against the opposite wall, cursing outwardly at her failure.

Tomas would be unhappy. God would be unhappy. Her throat constricted and she turned and slipped her coat from her shoulders, the retrieved blade finding her back instinctively. She was unsure whether the punishment was for disobeying her orders or for hurting Sarah, but as she drew the razor downward the only thing she was thinking about was the latter.

"Helena," Sarah whispered from behind her. "Stop." Her raspy voice only made Helena feel sicker, and, trembling, she sunk the metal deeper behind her shoulder blade. Red drops fell to saturate the straw. Sarah's voice sounded behind her again. "You don't need to do that."

Helena turned. "I do," she murmured, her voice sounding eerily like an echo of her clone's.

"Why?"

Helena's answer was automatic. "To atone."

The words carried up and expanded against the ceiling of the barn. With Sarah behind her they didn't ring true like they should. She felt more vulnerable than before, like a child again, like the child she had seen in Sarah's eyes moments before who had scared her from her purpose. Her hand stilled and she could not continue. The ache in her heart overpowered the stinging on her back.

"You're insulting your God," Sarah murmured. "You're destroying one of his creations."

"We are created in sin, he understands, I am a vessel for sin and that is what I destroy."

She thought she could feel Sarah's head shaking behind her. "Free me, Helena, and I'll show you what it's supposed to be like. Life without sin."

Helena was no longer listening to her.

"He will be so mad. I don't have a name. It will ruin everything."

"We can face him together. I know it's hard but you don't have to keep doing this."

"Yes!" she almost cried. "Yes, I do." She rocked on her heels, fingers pressed worriedly to her lips. She knew that she could not complete her task, but she also knew that she could not leave, not yet. She wasn't ready.

"Please no more talking," she said, turning to sit against the wall next to Sarah. "We must pray now." She closed her eyes and reached blindly for the other woman's free hand, finding that it fit her own perfectly. Warmth spread through her and she began to whisper well-memorized words. The foreign language fell meaningless on Sarah's ears but Helena hoped that despite her silence she still felt the meaning, felt the change that was fracturing the foundation of what she stood for.