Inspirational Playlist :
- Too many friends, Placebo
- Zombie, Cranberries
- Swan Lake, main theme
- 20 years, Placebo
III. Raised by wolves
Rachel
She stands in the middle of her living room, straight and still. It is the first time she pays attention to how impersonal her apartment seems the difference in style, compared to the house on the island, is stunning. Hers is all white, neutral, and expensive - more a show flat than an apartment where someone could live. Actually, she does not have one happy, warm memory of this place. It is functional, well-located, and flashy enough for the rare and lucky Dyad clients that once met Rachel here to be impressed. And fall vaguely in love with her.
The only two things she is happy to find after all this time are her clothes and her bar à vin. It is too early in the morning to pour herself a glass of Romanée-conti Grand Cru 1995, but she makes the silent vow to save two hours this evening to have a head-to-head with a bottle of one of the most valuable red wine that she knows of.
When she opens her wardrobe, she is overcome with a sweet, frivolous feeling of joy. All of her dresses, skirts and pants are there, in order, ready to glorify her body again. She touches the noble fabrics with trembling fingers. Somewhere deep in her brain, a devilish Rachel asks if she will be able to wear them again after her pregnancy. But, wrapped in the vision of this wreath of silk and leather, she barely remembers that tiny detail about herself.
Her eyes focus on the bottom of the large cupboard, where a beige box lays among her numerous pairs of high heels. She takes it carefully and sit on the edge of the large bed. She opens the box with great care and exhales with emotion at the sigh of the black leather escarpins with their famous bright red soles. Yes, maybe her pair of Louboutins is the closest thing she can rely to when she thinks about a happy memory in this place. Her inward evil self asks innocently if she can handle the height and discomfort of these beautiful instruments of torture.
"I missed you girls"
She caresses the black leather for a few minutes, smiling. It is futile, it is so not Rachel, and yet she feels soothed. It is good to be alone for the first time in months. Even if she misses her daughter. Terribly.
When her brain starts imagining Swan so far away from her, she decides it is time to become the old Rachel Duncan again. She chooses a white dress made by a famous Italian designer, a matching black suit jacket, silky stockings and a pair of white underwear.
She gets into the shower and almost cries with relief when she feels the hot water on her skin. It has been such a long journey. Not only from the island to her apartment. The past year has been an exhausting initiatory journey in itself. She takes time to wash her hair twice with an organic vanilla shampoo. Then her hands massage her body with her favorite shower gel. Surrounded by warm steam and familiar perfumes, she can feel herself coming back to life. When her left hand touches her lower belly she jumps at the touch of the scar that was not there 4 months ago. She had almost forgotten.
The pain is not physically there anymore and yet, each time she touches the scar, it is like being stabbed in the heart by the fear of what she nearly lost. She puts her face under the shower head, blinded and deafened by the stream, trying to focus on her mental voice : it's in your head, in your head. Just for the pain and fear to go away. She stays like that for five long minutes, unable to move, nearly submerged, barely breathing. Finally, slowly, her heartbeat comes back to normal and she starts breathing easily again. She finishes lathering herself, subtly avoiding that part of her body.
When her skin starts getting wrinkly from the heat and water, she comes out of the shower cabin and wraps up in a soft towel. She wipes the steam of the large mirror and looks at her reflection. With her wet hair, she doesn't see her own face at first glance. She sees Sarah's. She can't help thinking about her on the island with her daughter. Anger and frustration make her growl like an animal, she would like to punch her, to scratch her face with her red nails, to make her bleed. She hates her for being in her head.
And for being the only person she would trust with taking care of her daughter.
She makes herself up quickly, applying with precision all that makes Rachel THE Rachel: black mascara, silvery eyeshadow, brilliant red lipstick, the exact same shade of red than her Louboutins. She styles her hair perfectly, and sprays Dior Addict with delight on her bare chest and inner wrists. Smiling at herself in the miror, she is Rachel Duncan again.
She leaves the bathroom to get dressed in the bedroom. When she slips on her stockings, another kind of feeling overtakes her. More pleasant, albeit rather unexpected : the silk on her legs awakens forgotten memories of lust. She slowly becomes aware of how much she needs to have sex. Now. Eyes closed, she slowly pushes away her sister's image to concentrate on her own. She has always been an expert in the art of giving herself what she needed. She is just surprised at how quickly after such opposite feelings she can be so desperately in need of pleasure. She sits on the edge of her bed, half-clothed. Looking at her reflexion in the mirror, she sees in her brilliant eyes the promise that it will not take long.
Eyes locked with her own reflection, trembling with anticipation, she slides a hand inside her panties. She gasps when her fingers touch the warm, soft skin of her sex. She inserts a finger slowly, moans at the forgotten feeling. She is wet, hot, already ready for a second finger. She enters more deeply inside herself and starts moving her fingers. Like in slow motion, her upper body falls slowly on the bed, her belly contracted while she penetrates herself with precision, knowing exactly when to move faster and where to press harder. She moans softly, herbreathing laborious. The second she places her thumb on her clit, her whole body arches in desire. She bites her lips hard, not really used to being so close to come so quickly. Her left hand slides under her bra to grab, without sweetness, a little gold ring piercing on her nipple. She twists it between two fingers, making her cry aloud in pain melded with excitement.
She is about to come-when the doorbell rings.
"Oh, come on !" she is so close that it hurts.
Rachel straightens on the bed and leans on the nightstand to grab the portable intercom. She snaps :
"What?"
The concierge says in a little voice :
"Mrs Duncan, Mr Chevalier is here for you-"
"Tell him I am not here"
"I- I'm afraid he is already on his way to your apartment. He said it was an emergency-"
"Of course- Fine."
She puts down the intercom and puts on her clothes hastily, her entire body tensed with anger, worry, and an incredible frustration. Opening the door to Ferdinand now is like ordering sushi and receiving pizza instead: a great disappointment. Plus she knows herself, when she desperately needs something, she will use anybody, or anything to be more accurate, to get to her way. It makes her a little nauseated and yet, she opens the door on an overjoyed and wriggling Ferdinand.
" Good morning, Ferdinand."
"Rachel. You look amazing. As always"
He enters the apartment, his eternal predatory smile on his face, and cannot help leering at Rachel from head to toe while she closes the door. She turns around to face him.
She will never understand Ferdinand's devouring passion for her. As long as she can remember, she has never given him a kind word beyond common courtesy. She has never let him kiss her even if she knows he could sell his soul to her in exchange for it. Actually, he already gave it to her. She has often been a perfect bitch to him and yet, he is the one that spent - and lost - a lot of money to find her last year. She is certain he could have find her anywhere on the planet. Just for the tiny possibility that, for her own exclusive pleasure, she will tie him to a headboard, bite and beat him, and fuck him in the end, eventually, if she doesn't have something more important to do or think about. Yes, Ferdinand is some kind of a faithful dog she can beat and then abandon for months and that will always find her back and be happy to see her. Too bad for Ferdinand, that she now has a wolf friend who certainly has more pride than he does.
"It is 9 a.m. Ferdinand. I suspect you are not here to compliment me on my wardrobe, so what brings you here?"
Her cold disinterest does not discourage Ferdinand. He likes that.
"Well, I am delighted to see you too, Rachel. I came here to bring you to the board of directors meeting."
"That is at 2 p.m. And you aren't even a believer in Neolution."
"You almost converted me last time we saw each other. Remember?" He laughs sarcastically "And it will give us time to catch up with each other. Do you have some tea?"
He offers her his brightest smile and sits comfortably in the large grey sofa, watching her intently. Rachel sighs with irritation.
"No. I haven't been here for almost a year. I don't have tea."
"Well, come and sit next to me then, you can share your last year on the island with me."
His hand pats the pillow next to him. Rachel feels trapped, ill at ease. It is the first time she has worn high heels since her pencil issue, and she does not feel completely confident on her feet. And she can't help thinking about the warm and wet need increasing between her legs. Ferdinand notices her discomfort the second she sits as far away from him as possible.
"I love your shoes. They represent you so perfectly, it's almost allegorical. You and your Louboutins are beautiful and fine, and it is almost impossible to reach you unless the person has power or money. And even then, you are dauntless and we discover your only goal and pleasure is to hurt the feet and the heart."
"Shut up, Ferdinand."
"Something is making you nervous. And it is not the board meeting."
He watches her intently
"You've changed Rachel. And… Oh my God! Where is your cane?" He looks so worried it makes her smile.
"It's in the lobby."
"I'm relieved. I thought you forgot it on the island. I-I liked that extension of your-wildness."
She knows what he is trying to do and it annoys her even more, so that she can barely contain herself.
"Ferdinand, I am not in the mood for that."
"Oh yes you are. I can tell by the way you touch your belly with your hands. And by your hard breathing."
"Stop that !" She stands up to escape his mental grasp on her.
"It is okay if it is not me that you want. Too bad I am the only person around, mmm?"
He is completely calm and smiling now, detailing her like a crazy surgeon about to cut his victim's skin. If she was not so sure of her power on him, she would be afraid right now.
"Too bad I am a grown woman and don't need a man to pleasure myself."
She smiles back at him. Touché!
"Ok, look -I know you are hiding something. The problem is that the board knows it too. And people are starting to ask questions. They find it strange that you choose to stay on your island when you should be in town, leading the great new world of Neolution. They approached me. They want me to - What were the words they used ? -monitor you."
"What? They can't do that."
"Of course they can. Being promoted by God himself doesn't mean there is no jealousy or suspicions among the apostles. You are lucky they asked me to do the job."
"Am I?"
"Of course. I will never betray you."
"Oh, what a relief ! I will never be betrayed by someone who couldn't even recognize a pale imitation of me just because she had a blond wig and was wearing my clothes? As long as you think with your brain instead of your penis, you are right, I am so lucky !"
Ferdinand suddenly becomes pale and ill at ease.
"It was a mistake and I've already apologized thousands of times. Anyway, the board will ask you this afternoon that I accompany you to the island. You should accept without asking questions, in my humble opinion."
"There is absolutely no way!"
"Well, if you say that, be sure their suspicion will be founded and what you are trying to hide so hard will be discovered within a day."
She feels like she is going to be sick. A breathtaking pain from her C-section scar makes her sway and fall abruptly onto the sofa. Ferdinand comes closer to her, smart enough not to touch her directly. He stays silent for several seconds while Rachel, prostrated, tries to recover her breath. Suddenly, something dawns on Ferdinand. He says, in a low conspiring voice :
"Oh, dear God- you did it!"
Head in her hands, her body bent double, she doesn't answer.
"Rachel, look at me!"
She raises her head slowly to look at him. Both pairs of eyes are febrile.
"You found a way to have your own child, didn't you?"
She doesn't answer, but he sees in her terrified look that he is right.
"Oh my God, that's fantastic."
She is trapped in her worst nightmare, and Ferdinand's burning look on her reminds her that the exhausting initiatory journey may not be quite over yet. The only words she can whisper are:
"No one can know."
Sarah
Taking care of Swan gives Sarah a goal. The first day, she spends the morning with the little girl in her arms, walking around the house. It is a good way to explore the vast mansion and to train her new leg. Plus, the little girl seems delighted to be nestled against another mother with the same face and warmth. The baby spends most of her time watching Sarah and everything around her, an expression of interest in her beautiful eyes.
The house is vast. In the basement, where her room is, there are five others; each of them has a private bathroom. They are all decorated with wooden furniture and various colored fabrics, which compensate for the lack of natural light. The biggest room is not Rachel's, as if she didn't want to take her mother's bedroom.
Delphine's room is the furthest from Rachel's, and the closest to the big laboratory. When she enters the lab, she sees two beds next to one another in a corner of the room. Sarah immediately wonders if Rachel gave birth to her daughter in that cold, scary room. Then she is sure of that, for she can feel the fear Rachel felt, the pain, and the love that makes you forget everything. She has images of her own labor. It was not in a strange, impersonal lab, lost on an island, but she was still lost. It makes her shiver and she feels the baby starting to tremble feverishly in her arms, aware of Sarah's uneasiness. She mutters :
"It's okay, Monkey, everything's fine."
She slips out the room quickly, and continues her visit of the basement. There is a locked room at the end of the corridor. Sarah looks at the closed door with furrowed eyebrows. What is hiding behind this door, if even Rachel's own bedroom isn't locked?
After a long and perilous climb of the stairs, she and Swan arrive in the living room, and Sarah asks Delphine about the mysterious locked door.
"Delphine, do you know what's in the room at the end of the corridor?"
"It was Susan's office."
"It's locked."
"Yes. Susan probably kept the key when she was transferred into town. I imagine Rachel planned to break in, but she was busy with your and Swan's health."
"Are there cameras in the corridor?"
"What? No, there are only cameras in the bedrooms downstairs, and two upstairs : one here in the living room and another one in the kitchen. They are off now."
"How can you be sure? Rachel doesn't trust us enough to leave the two of us alone with her baby without any surveillance."
"She knows we won't escape, that is why she doesn't need to watch us. The island keeps us prisoner."
Sarah sighs in frustration and weariness as she sits on the sofa. Delphine takes Swan from her hands and says gently :
"Get some rest, I will give Swan her milk."
Before Delphine and the baby leave the living room, Sarah is already asleep.
She wakes up an hour later, firmly intent on opening that door. Delphine forces her to eat a hot meal. They barely speak when actually it would be the perfect time to do so : that always happens when no one knows where to start. Delphine looks preoccupied and Sarah doesn't want to hurt her by asking the wrong question. She declines Delphine's offer to make her a coffee and pretends to need another nap with the baby, to shorten the meal and go downstairs with Swan. She puts the little girl in her bed, kisses her little forehead and leaves the room. Based on the silence, she is pretty sure the baby is already asleep after five minutes.
In the cold lab, she finds a paper clip. Simple, but efficient. If it doesn't work she will use a hammer to destroy the door. She is attracted like a magnet by what is inside this room.
She unlocks the door with baffling ease. She represses her first real scream of joy when the lock clicks. The office is impeccably tidy, as if Susan knew the last time she was in it, that she wouldn't come back. Sarah sits on the large leather armchair. There is a computer on the desk and she turns it is no password, which seems too easy, not Duncan-style. Sarah desperately wants to use the Internet connection, but she represses her need to contact her family, as it is probably not secure. She will have to tell Delphine about her mischief in order to get her opinion.
There are a number of closets in the office. All of them are unlocked, except for one. Sarah uses her magic paper clip once more and it seems that today is her lucky day, for it opens within 5 minutes. Inside are videotapes. Dozens. Hundreds. On all of them the same thing is written : Rachel Duncan. The tapes are labeled chronologically from 1992 - Sarah remembers it's the year Rachel's parents "died" - to 2016. The last one is dated of one week before Sarah landed on the island.
"Holy shit !"
At the sight of all the videotapes, she feels dizzy. Rachel has been monitored her entire life by her own, supposedly dead, mother. She was nothing more than a scientific project. A subect of study. She can't help but to suddenly feel sorry for her. And angry. She also begins to think that perhaps Rachel would have become a better person than she did, if she hadn't been used like that.
She sits on the armchair again to discover a VCR under the computer screen. There is a tape in it, unmarked. Probably the last one, that Susan didn't have the time to mark and label with the others. Driven by an invisible force, she puts the VCR on. The screen turns on to a white written message on a black background :
This videotape is the property of DYAD Institute - For internal use only
Sarah's heart beats erratically, her throat is dry. The video shows images of the house, from different points of views. There are several cameras filming many rooms. All of them actually. Sarahs clicks on the one in the kitchen and the full screen mode comes into effect. She can see Rachel and her mother facing, judging each other. Sarah deducts it is what happened just before she arrived at the house.
Rachel says :"You should be thanking me- You created me to be your heir, didn't you?"
"A child raised by Neolution. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but it wasn't mine." Susan's tone is sacrastic, rough.
"Whose was it, then? You gave me to this." Rachel revolves around her mother like a young wolf defying the old alpha one, defiant and fierce.
"I should never have left you. Is that what you want to hear?"
"You made me think you were dead." Her voice is trembling lightly. But she doesn't want her mother to win this game. "So now I must do what Neolution raised me to do, make the hard choices."
"The hard choice is restraint."
Rachel prevents a nasty smile to appear on her lips. "You're fading, Mother. The future is bolder than you." Susan turns around and is about to leave the kitchen when her daughter's voice stops her : "Where's the cell line? I want the cure."
Susan faces her daughter and laughs with disdain and deception."Oh, Rachel. All the joy and insight your sisters have given me. For every Sarah, every Cosima, I regret making you."
This last sentence hurts Rachel to the core of her soul. She must end this, now. She turns away from her mother, hiding her pain and tears.
"Sorry, Rachel. The board does not have the final say. And I will not allow you to move forward with any of this."
The clone grabs one of the knives in front of her, very slowly. She wants to win this battle now, to end her mother's superiority over her. She turns around and stabs Susan with a steady hand, in an almost graceful gesture. She looks Susan in the eyes, as a young, victorious wolf would watch an old monarch abdicate : with no joy but the pride you feel when you defeat an oppressor.
"It's not up to you anymore, Mother."
Eyes locked on the screen, Sarah's whole body shakes violently. She can't handle the mixed emotions inside her. In a way, she understands what lead Rachel to who she is now. Her mother's words are the worst a daughter can hear from a parent. At the same time, the blond clone's calculating, cold, cruel behavior makes her sick. She is sure the rest of the tape will show her own altercation with Rachel later that day. She is not certain she wants to live this again, even from a spectator's point of view. She still has phantom limb pains when she thinks about it.
She pushes the fast forward button, vaguely watching the images. Suddenly, the lab camera shows something that awakes a forgotten memory :
Rachel is sitting on a bed in the lab. Delphine is observing her, her forehead wrinkled with anxiety. Rachel's belly is round and full, she is pregnant. The blond clone's face is distorted by pain. Her hands and legs are shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes are half-closed, her face is paler than the white shirt she is wearing.
Next to them, Sarah lays on another bed. She is asleep. A nasal cannula helps her breathing. She is as pale as her sister. Her leg is not there anymore. And the prosthesis is not there yet. It is a strange feeling, to watch the empty place next to her other leg.
Delphine says in a soft and yet trembling voice :"C'est trop tôt-"
"Delphine! English!" Rachel snaps, her voice hardly audible
"The labor has started Rachel. It's eight weeks early and I don't have the medicine here to stop the contractions."
Rachel doesn't answer. She looks feverish, about to faint.
"And- There is something else."
"What?"
"I am not an obstetrician, but I am pretty sure you have a condition - placenta praevia. It means I will have to perform a C-section."
"What ? Now?"
"Yes. There is no time. The baby's heartbeat is decreasing. I am going to give you anepidural. You won't feel anything, and you will be awake for your baby's birth." She watches Rachel and with a calm, professional voice, says "It is going to be fine. Both of you are going to be fine."
{fast forward 30 minutes later}
Delphine says through the green surgical drape :"Rachel, you have a little girl. She is having a little trouble breathing, Ira will take care of her and will bring her to you as soon as we are sure she is ok. You are both doing very well."
Rachel barely hears the information, she feels a strong, deep need to close her eyes to sleep now.
"No! No Rachel, you have to stay awake! Please, answer me !"
"I hear you-"
"Well, listen to me. You are losing a lots of blood. You have to fight your need to sleep. You cannot faint now. Your daughter is beautiful, she needs her mother. Ok?"
"Ok."
"Good. Stay with me. Tell me your baby's name."
"Swan- Swan Duncan."
"That's a beautiful name. Hold on. You will see her face soon."
Delphine barely finishes her sentence when Rachel suddenly begins losing consciousness :
"Rachel! Rachel! Merde!"
{fast forward 15 minutes later}
"Rachel, wake up ! Do you hear me?"
"Swan, how is Swan?"
"Listen to me, Swan suffered blood poisoning. NO no no ! Do not try to move. We gave her Sarah's blood. She is fine now, she rests. She will need a little help to breath and feed but it will be ok."
"Ok."
"Now, listen to me Rachel. We took a lotof blood from Sarah. We are not sure she will survive unless-"
"Is Swan going to be ok?"
"What? Yes, in a month or so she will be able to eat and breathe by herself. She is going to be-"
"Save her."
"What?"
"Take my blood, give it to Sarah."
"Rachel, you've lost too much blood, it's too risky."
"I said save her."
"But -"
"Now! Save her !"
"Sarah, what are you doing here?"
It is like waking up from a strange, bloody nightmare. She pushes the pause button and raises her head to face Delphine. She is a mess, there are tears and sweat all over her face, and, absorbed in the video, she hadn't even noticed that she has bitten her lips so hard that her mouth is full of blood.
Hers. Rachel's. She doesn't know. She doesn't care.