Work Text:
I.
Something whizzes by her cheek, drawing a single drop of blood, which mingles with the marrow shattered underfoot, staining the tile. Rachel stalks toward her captive, still struggling valiantly with her restraints. Sarah’s almost free when Rachel clenches her fist and makes contact, her palm singing with pain that reverberates down her arm.
“Bitch,” Sarah spits, her blood seeping from the corners of her mouth. She tries to keep a brave face, despite the newly split lip and reddening flesh. However, her body is shaking visibly under Rachel’s grasp and she grins manically at the sight of the fear reflected behind Sarah’s eyes.
“Doctor Nealon, the patient is ready,” Rachel hisses, locking Sarah’s restraints back into place. Her nails dig into Sarah’s skin, pulling the straps so tight that they are sure to leave a mark.
“I’ll kill you, you psycho,” Sarah vows, tears tracking down from the corners of her eyes. Rachel resists the urge to trace them with her finger, taste her victory on her tongue. “Helena’ll find me and we’re gonna tear you apart.”
However, these are the cries of desperation, and they lack teeth. Like a caged animal, Sarah realizes that she is trapped, and Rachel is her master. Rachel lowers the mask onto her mouth and watches as Sarah drifts away, anger still painted on her face.
The oophorectomy occurs without further complication. Such a pity that Sarah didn’t come to after the procedure. Top Side was quite optimistic about future progeny.
II.
Cosima falls while Sarah is still in surgery. There are seizures and blood, but no physician available to attend her. In the end, there is only death.
Scott Smith bears witness to all of it. He is dumbfounded and uncertain what to make of the reality of his situation. Cosima has left him alone with no allies, vulnerable from all sides. How unfortunate.
Rachel considers remedying that error by keeping him on staff.
After all, there are remaining threats to eliminate and replace. She’d just been advised of Marion’s plot to extract Sarah and Kira, and Ferdinand’s intervention. It seems that Kira will have a new friend joining her shortly now that poor Charlotte is also an orphan. How fortuitous.
A simple review of the security footage in the lab renders this impossible. Rachel now knows exactly where Mr. Smith’s loyalties lie.
Ferdinand eliminates him the following evening. Rachel forgets this momentary lapse in judgment.
III.
The house fire is a tragedy. A split wire on a video game console and an overloaded circuit due to faulty construction; it could have happened to anyone. The poor, poor Hendrixes—and right after she and Donnie had managed to repair their marriage. How mundane.
Bailey Downs is in upheaval and there are two competing memorial funds, which amuses her far more than it should. Only in suburbia is death another excuse for competition.
A woman named Sarah Stubbs, who had once been mistaken for Sarah Manning, organizes one memorial. It’s tasteful and clear that this woman adored Alison for reasons that Rachel can’t comprehend. Maybe she was in love with her—the details are far too intimate for casual friendship—Alison’s favorite flowers, colors, and foods are all included and it seems more of a celebration of Alison’s life and Sarah’s part in it, than a reminder of her death.
Alison's mother leads the other memorial effort, if one can call it that. Connie Hendrix feigns several panic attacks while creating her new line of limited edition soaps. Rachel knows from reviewing Alison’s file exactly how much she loathes her mother’s lofty standards and snide remarks. She sends Connie a large, anonymous, donation—it’s only fitting, after all.
Sarah Stubbs’ efforts dry up within a month, unable to compete with Mrs. Hendrix’s influx of cash and publicity.
Bubbles is more profitable than ever.
IV.
There are reports from her contacts within Project Castor that Helena has spent the past two months in their facilities. As the head of the project, she should be concerned, however, she is not. In fact, it pleases Rachel to know that they will handle her so she doesn’t have to act.
Rachel remembers the damage she’d wrought all too well. Aldous had raised her never to ignore an opportunity when it presents itself.
They ship her the body a month later. She’d escaped, only to meet her end in the desert—dehydrated and alone.
Paintings and primitive drawings matter little in the end. If there’s an afterlife, Helena might find her family there. How touching.
V.
Her position is secure once more; Rachel has clawed her way back to her unique vantage point atop the remains of her inferiors. None dare to question that Rachel truly is the fittest. Unlike the others, Rachel has managed to survive and for that alone she is more valuable than the memory of the other self-aware subjects.
Doctor Cormier had tried to stage a coupe, only to fail miserably—never let a sheep try to do a wolf’s work. They’ll simply be eaten, torn apart limb by limb. Yet, even sheep have their uses—Doctor Nealon is always eager for subjects that do not require the ethical standards used in more… public human trials.
As time passes, Rachel finds herself reading additional files—Krystal Goderich, Nadia Stasky, Tony Sawicki—when she has retired for the evening. She imagines what it might be like, bringing them into self-awareness. A salon worker as boring as Alison Hendrix, a doctor who could assist with furthering the project into its next phase, and another felon to keep things interesting.
Only this time, Rachel would control the parameters, set the tone for their interactions. She can mold them in her image, much like Charlotte and Kira, who finally has stopped asking about her mother and father, has accepted that they are not coming and she is better for it.
There is a problem with this train of thought, however. These—replacements—will never be sufficient. Tony could never be Sarah; never access her unique ability to destroy everything she touches. He is merely a shadow of her—a criminal with shared genetic material.
You have everything you wanted.
Yes, she thinks, pouring herself a drink. Yes she does and yet Rachel has never felt more alone.
When she's drunk enough, she almost thinks death would be a mercy, except she is not weak and there is no one left to end her.
She's made certain of that.