Hello everybody! Sorry I haven't posted in a while but it's because I have moved to the US! Classes just started back up again and everything is very chaotic adjusting to a new way of life. But I found some time during Labor Day to write so ... here it is!

Don't forget to leave a review!

Enjoy.

Her eyes were dark as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Emma had bent down to tie her shoelaces and when she stood up, there she was, staring back at another version of herself. She looked tired. Her skin was slightly sunken, not as youthful as she had remembered it being yesterday. Lips chapped and bitten. She'd do that when she was worried or angry or turned on. Em stepped closer to the mirror, focusing on her pupils. They looked like a normal woman's eyes. They looked real. But how could she tell that they were really her eyes? At this angle she doesn't recognise them. Maybe it's the light. Maybe she's still tired, but she isn't as familiar with her face as she was yesterday morning.

...

"I saw a girl kill herself, and she looked exactly like me."

Beth is a cop. I'm a cop. I'm a cop. I'm Beth. Elizabeth Childs. Beth Childs.

"We're clones. We're someone's experiment and they're killing us off!"

Her hair is red. My hands are red. That's my face, but I'm here breathing.

Kira.

We're clones.

BANG BANG.

Sarah catches her breath. She's clammy, her hair stuck to her forehead. Sweat tangling her into the bed sheets. She's been having the same nightmare for three days now. And then she wakes up and it starts all over again.

BANG BANG

...

"Okay. Reload." Alison walks up behind Sarah. "Try again."

As Sarah reloads the gun, Alison gestures to the piece in her clone's hands, and begins the lesson. "So, most city cops carry Glocks, but a Walther P-99, it has an optional sized hand grip. It's good for women. Beth said." Alison's eyes wander. She scratches her head and sighs. "Particularly women living their lives like rats in a lab."

Sarah fumbles with the Glock in her hand, it's a lot heavier than she thought it would be. "Is that what you think?"

"Well, what else could it be? Someone is covering up their illegal experiments by wiping us out."

Sarah was quite surprised and slightly impressed by the suburban mom's thought process. If they were clones, their existence would be illegal and it was plausible that the only way to avoid prosecution was to wipe out the subjects. Sarah hadn't thought about it until Alison had hypothesised.

"Well, whatever it is," Alison rambled on, "I need to protect my family. So Beth taught me how to shoot. For that I am grateful to her."

Sarah could see the loss and full gravity of their situation written across Alison's face. It was a deep wound and it was a reminder of the realness of their lives now. But to Sarah, it was still new. She hadn't lost anyone. Not really. Sarah couldn't help feel guilty at this freedom Alison didn't have.

"I'm sorry you lost her. Uh, but anything you can tell me about her will help."

"Well, I fail to see how someone like you can ... fill Beth's shoes." Alison retorted.

Sarah sighed and looked back to her targets. Shame on her for feeling sorry for the woman.

Alison continued, "Truth is, I barely knew Beth. She was all business, but I admired her. She didn't cry, she was discreet. She didn't bring her foster brother to my house. She didn't let her family find out."

"I didn't know the rules of Clone Club, did I?"

"Can you not use the C-word? Please?"

Sarah turned steadied her feet and held the gun up to the target.

BANG BANG.

...

"Do you know how humiliating this is?" S turned the radio down as the car stopped at a red light. She had been mumbling in fury to herself ever since they had dropped Kira off at school. Em's mind had been on other issues. "Now you're being quiet? Nothing to say for yourself now?"

Emma was watching the trees blur past as they drove. A wash of autumnal colours littered the window she sat watching from. It was warm in the car, but outside a sharp Canadian chill whispered through the breeze. Siobhan's tone was just as icy. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Em tilted her head towards her mother's, "What do you want me to say?"

Siobhan's eyes were pleading but her countenance was defiant, angry. It made her look a lot older than her fifty seven years. "We can't go on like this Emma. I've given you everything I could. This school is one of the best in the city. Do you realise what you're wasting? I'm exhausted but it's not my life. This is your life. This is the only one you'll get!"

This is your life. Em repeated her mother's words in her head. Since she found out about everything last night, her life seemed drunk, disoriented. Her vision was like a tunnel and everything she saw was slowed down and far away but her thoughts were wild and playing a game of rapid fire. This is your life. "Why does it mean so much?"

Siobhan reeled her concentration away from the road for a few moments to look at her daughter, confused. "Why does it mean so much?"

"Yeah. My life. Your life. That life, this life. It seems so insignificant, the fact that we are trying so hard. We'll win the lottery or our lives will be fucked up but this day-to-day bullshit is just that - bullshit. I can't control it any better than you can."

The indicators were the only source of sound until Siobhan blinked away her surprise. Her tone was softer but she was still angry, "So you'd rather give up? If you truly believe it's out of your control, you'd give up rather than make something out of as little as you can?"

Em remembered her dark eyes from this morning. They almost matched Sarah's. Alison eyes weren't as dark but they were mored wired, the flecks more vibrant. Cosima's were soft, warm. They were a mixture of a child's unblemished beliefs and a grown woman's insightful curiosity. One ripple created a plethora of waves.

The car came to a stop outside of the school gates. The women stayed in the car.

Em turned toward her mother, "I don't want to give up. I just don't want to give in."

Siobhan opened the door and climbed out of the car, Em followed. "Stop wasting your time. Make something of the bullshit."

Em smiled slightly and they headed into the school.

...

Sarah can feel Art's eyes on her as she pulls the trigger once, twice, three times. A perfect shot. Almost.

She puts the gun down and turns towards his impressed smile, "Maybe it's a lady grip Walther."

Sarah smiles, tilting her head, "You like your big Glock, don't you?"

Art chuckles and walks up to the hand piece, reloading with ease and efficiency. Sarah stands back. She remembers her new mantra. I'm Beth Childs. I'm a cop. "So, um, two sets of tyre tracks at the crime scene? One motorcycle and one car?" How much does he know?

"Yeah, but there had to be three people there. So if a killer's on a motorcycle, then what? He has an accomplice, drives the vic to the quarry? Or the vic has a driver, doesn't go to the police, panics, and half-ass buries the body?"

Shit. Sarah thinks back to the night she met Katja. Art just perfectly described her actions after the shooting. "Yeah, the, um, body dump doesn't match the professional hit."

"Exactly. And I got something else for you, Beth, you're gonna love this." Art pulls out a photograph and flips it towards Sarah. "That was in the sniper's nest."

Red. Her hair was red. The head of a Barbie doll was resting on the bushes. The doll's hair was crookedly cut and coloured to match the German's. We're someone's experiment and they're killing us off.

"Yeah. We got a live one." Art was excited. "Phone calls, leaving clues, messing with us." He waits for Sarah to respond with as much enthusiasm but she is lost in the photograph.

Sarah jumps as her phone rings and she flings the photograph back at Art, "Detective Childs? All right, yeah, Suzuki? Okay, hang on a sec." She fumbles into her back pocket and plucks out a notepad and pen, flipping to a fresh page. "Okay, thanks."

Art watches as Sarah scribbles down the information and hang up the phone.

"Patrol spotted my stolen Suzuki down at Parkdale".

"It's a long shot. We may as well see if the tyres match." Art turns to pick up the gun and aims it at the driving range target.

BANG BANG.

...

The mother and daughter duo took a seat outside the principal's office, waiting to be called in. Emma couldn't help but sneak a glance at Mrs S, attempting to determine her mood before they headed into the office. Siobhan was exhausted. Raising three misfits and taking on Kira over the years had taken their toll and Emma couldn't help but feel guilty. S didn't deserve this much grief. She was a good mother. Despite what Sarah had to say, all her children knew she'd done well. They were all grateful that someone had taken them in, that she was good to them.

There was nothing she could do about it now. It was too late. The familial instinct to run was already embedded in her, perhaps copied and pasted from another source. Yesterday, S was just another obstacle in her path to self-destruction. Today, Em didn't know which way was up.

The teen sighed loudly. Mrs S' eyes flickered to hers quickly but before she could ask anything, the door opened and a tall man with a false smile emerged from inside the office.

"Mrs Manning, I'm Principal Milton. Pleasure to meet you." He proffered a sweaty hand to Mrs S who reluctantly shook it.

"Sadler. Siobhan Sadler." S corrected him with a matching fabricated grin.

He beckoned the two inside, gesturing for them to sit down as he pulled open a cabinet and swatted out a large file.

"Now, Emma Manning," He addressed the girl, without glancing up from his paperwork as if tearing his eyes away from her file would force him to forget any information he had about the teen. "You know the reason I've called you and your mother in today, yes?"

Emma shifted in her seat, clearing her throat, "A formal congratulation for my impeccable success as a student?"

Siobhan rolled her eyes, her voice was stern. "Emma." She warned and turned to Principal Milton, "I'm sorry."

"Ah, that British sarcasm. I'm still catching up!" Milton leant forward in his chair. "We are here to talk about your recent report card - amongst other things. Tardiness; attendance; failure to hand in assignments on your deadlines..." Finally he looked up at her from his greasy brow, a condescending grimace slapped onto his face. "Your behaviour, in general, does not really match that of this school." Principal Milton shifted his glare to Mrs S, "Were you aware of your daughter's behaviour, ma'am?"

"I knew that Emma's attendance wasn't perfect and that a lot of her missed days were due to her suspension, but we've had many discussions about it-"

"You went to Milbrook Middle School, is that correct?" Milton directed his question at Emma whose attention was on S, shifting in her seat, clearly pissed off at the principal's interruption.

"Yeah…?"

"But that's on the other side of town… surely the kids from that school should filter into Jarvis Collegiate?" Milton's tone suggested he wouldn't usually associate himself with kids from Emma's old school.

"And that would have been the case had Emma's teachers not advised me to send her to this school for a better education. As you can see from her grades, Emma's a very bright girl," S sneered at the belligerent man, her patience wearing thin.

Milton pursed his lips, his eyes back on Emma's file, "That's quite true… Your test grades are rather impeccable, Miss Manning... Tell me, where do you want to be?"

Emma waited for the man to continue but after a few moments of silence, the expectation of her reply hung in the air, "I… don't think I understand the question,"

"You were advised to attend this school, so tell me, what's the point in you taking a half hour bus journey to Northview Heights when you could have stayed at Jarvis? If you weren't planning on attending school, on gaining a fine education and graduating from a great school… why attend this school?"

Emma shrugs, "Does it really matter? I mean, as long as I'm getting good test grades, you're not affected, right?"

The principal pulls the glasses off his hooked nose, lowering into the chair behind him, "Although grades are important to the way this school is presented, it's also about reputation."

He looks back and forth at Emma and Siobhan, "I understand your domestic situation is…unique. Perhaps, the effects of that, amongst living so far away from this school, makes your future at Northview… unviable. Maybe this isn't the place for you after all."

The atmosphere in the room suddenly becomes air tight as Mrs S sucks in a sharp breath, leaning forward in her chair, "Excuse me? Emma being adopted has absolutely no affect on her ability to complete school. I think it's outrageous that you, the principal of such a prestigious school should even be able to utter those kinds of discriminating thoughts amongst your colleagues let alone in front of your students and their parents!"

Milton holds his hands up defensively, "Oh no, no. Of course not! I didn't mean any offence by it, at all, Mrs Sadler. It's just, well - not to be prude but there is a certain type that goes here and I don't think Emma fits into it."

"S - leave it," Emma warns, futilely.

Mrs S is already on her feet, "Have you any idea how ridiculous you sound?! My daughter is the smartest in her class – your bloody papers show that! Yes her attendance isn't perfect and she has no desire to contribute to this school, but I can clearly see why when there are prejudice imbeciles like you running this place!"

Milton's face turns scarlet red, making his eyes bulge out even more than usual but Emma sits back in her chair beaming at her mother's fury.

"There may be a certain type who come to this school or live in this area of town but I thank the lord that Emma does not fit into that group of snooty, pretentious pigs. As far as I'm concerned and from what I've seen of this institution today, Emma is doing nothing wrong and you should feel privileged to have such an intelligent student here, you pathetic shrewd of a man."

And with that, Mrs S shot up, grabbing Emma by the wrist and towed her out of the office leaving Principal Milton wide eyed and shocked.

...

"I don't know what to say." Once they had driven a few blocks away from the school, Emma finally breathed.

S was still fuming, gripping so hard onto the steering wheel, her knuckles were the colour of snow.

"What a prick." She hissed out of thin lips, earning an impressed smile from the teen.

They drove in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of the engine and quick shallow breathing played like a record in the station wagon.

Siobhan spoke first, "I never asked you what you wanted."

Em turned towards her mother and then back at the road ahead, "Hm?"

"I didn't ask where you wanted to go. It was a great school, one of the best in the city and you had been asked to go there. I was over the moon, but I didn't ask if you wanted to go."

"Listen, the Principal's an arse and most of the kids aren't great but the classes are good, the teaching is good."

"You didn't want to go."

Em sighed, "I didn't know what I wanted, I was a little kid. At that stage I just wanted to be like the others, they'd tell me to jump and I'd say how high. My mum tells me I'm going to a school on the other side of the city - of course I'd rebel. But... it doesn't matter anymore, if you want me to go there, I will."

Siobhan pulled up outside the house and turned to the teen, reaching over to pull her tangled curls away from her eyes, "It's just a few months left until you graduate. Then you can rebel as much as you like..."

Em smiled, "You've already got a lifetime of grey hairs, mum. I don't want to be the sole source of blame..."

S nudged Em in false offence and they climbed out of the car, walking to the door. Siobhan stopped the girl before the door opened, "I am proud of you, you know. You're so intelligent and independent. You're brilliant really."

Em leant over and wrapped her arms around S. Independent. Are we?

Siobhan's kiss interrupted her thoughts, "Don't give up. Never give in."

...

Sarah's breath was hot and heavy. Her ears were still ringing. It seemed like her feet hitting the solid gravel was now an autopilot setting as she ran, ran faster than she thought she knew how. She never thought she'd been this afraid. It was a con, a ruse, nothing she thought was too serious. It hadn't felt real. It wasn't real, until now. I'm a cop. I'm Beth.

Panting, Sarah threw her body forward and shifted behind a brick wall. The gun thrust out in front of her slightly blocking her vision. What she couldn't see, she couldn't be afraid of. I can do this. I can do this.

She runs across the street, breathing faster, faster. Shit! There's the fur hooded coat. It jumps over the fence between two buildings, and Sarah jumps to the side. For a split second contemplating how much longer to run. Was Art okay. Should she have called for backup? A quick glance behind her and she could see the hood had gone.

And now here she was, right in the middle of the line of sight. Stranded in an abandoned part of the city with only discarded belongings and rotting crates to keep her company. Sarah whips the gun around frantically, ready to see the shooter but her shaky hands give away her true fear. She's in way over her head.

Reaching for Beth's phone she dials a number, careful not to look away from the area for too long at a time, "Art."

The voice on the other end of the phone is strained and muffled, "Where are you?"

"Uh, I think he went west, uh, between the two, uh, the row houses. I think he went into one of the abandoned buildings here," Sarah lowered her gun just slightly. The next thing she knew a hard, cold, blunt piece of metal collided into the back of her head. The phone and gun flying from her grasp as she fell down to the leaf littered floor. "Argh!".

Rolling over she spat the hair from her mouth and saw the hooded figure looming over her, a dagger aimed towards Sarah. I'm a cop. I'm a cop. I'm Beth. Sarah forced herself to be brave but this was it. This was it.

Here she was, lying flat on her back. Her eyes clamped shut and her hands up in surrender. So brave.

Sarah felt the figure edge closer to her and then, to her surprise, a croaky female voice escaped from the dark dripping with a strong Russian accent, "Good riddance, Elizabeth Childs."

At the sound of the dead girl's name, Sarah's eyes shot open to reveal the dagger fly towards her, "I'm not Beth!".

The blade stopped in mid strike. Sarah inhaled and exhaled quickly, certain that if she were standing up she would have thrown up. A gloved hand lifted the hood from the woman's head and out tumbled a yellow mess of crimped hair. Underneath the hair was Sarah's face.

Another one.

Her eyes were on fire. Large red rings circled the fiery pits as if they were singed. But the rest of her face was pale. She would have looked like a corpse were it not for the blood red circles encompassing her eyes.

Sarah felt her hot breath against her cheeks as the identical face moved inches away from Sarah's. The dagger was lightly trailed across Sarah's cheeks as the Russian woman searched for something. A crack in the facade? Proof of an imposter?

A child's tone flooded from the Russian's mouth, "Dirty little copy cop," She chastised. "Who are you?"

Sarah didn't have much time until that knife was going to dig deep into her skin. Her gloved fingers desperately scoured the dirty floor for a weapon. Then, with all the energy she had left in her, she drew a piece of rebar from the ground and sliced the Russian's side.

"ARGH!" The Russian yelled and stumbled to her feet, pulling out her gun and aiming it at a shaking Sarah. She hesitated at the trigger and then with laboured breaths, "Not yet. Not Beth," The gun disappeared from view as the identical scampered out of sight.

Crawling onto her side, Sarah whimpered, soft cries escaping her shaking body. The dagger lay neglected on the floor.

"Beth?!" She could hear Art around the corner.

Quickly, Sarah used her body to cover the knife and slip it into her coat as Art came into view.

"Beth?! Jesus Christ!" Art ran towards Sarah. His neck was bleeding.

Sarah shot to her feet as he approached, holding the gun up towards where she saw the identical run away.

"Are you okay? Hey?" Art was concerned, his voice broke.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Sarah's head was dizzy.

"Hey, hey. Where'd he go?".

She lost her footing and fell slightly. Art grabbed her arm before she could hit the ground again and wrapped her arm around his neck, "Okay, okay. I got you. I got you, come on." He said, carrying her away from the abandoned space.

Sarah's legs were heavy. She could still feel her identical's breath warm on her face. Those eyes. Her eyes were so dark. Black. Sarah's mind went black.