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Emily Lake is scared, petrified, terrified - she's trying to think of more creative adjectives but it's not so easy when she has been sat bound to a chair for hours. Dried tears and snot patch her face and neck, and she is entirely unsure of the appropriate emotion when the movement in her peripheral vision turns into, well, her. Or, rather, a different her. A her that is looking at the teacher with something akin to disdain. With a wrinkled nose and a toss of hair, this new figure cautiously positions herself in front of Emily. I should wear my hair loose more often is the first coherent thought she has, before Emily just stares. If she needed proof that her memory was skewed by a car crash, then today is it - kidnapped, and now confronted by...
"Are you my twin sister?" she blurts out, peering at the woman's less than cheerful attire, hands clasped tightly in front of her, at her face which softens ever so slightly at her words.
"I think I shall go with that, yes," she replies with a lilting English accent, "Emily...isn't it?"
When Emily nods, the woman thrusts out a hand, straight backed, "Helena," she says then nervously laughs, pulling back her hand just as quickly. So very English Emily thinks and her own nerves surface anew, as does her tendency to make lame jokes in awkward situations.
She's cringing before the words are out, "I'm a little tied up at the moment," she drawls, jerking her arms exaggeratedly.
Unsurprisingly, Helena doesn't laugh, but she does look sad, "I'm also rather restricted myself." It's spoken softly, but she darts a malicious glance at the man, Marcus, as she says it.
Emily feels a connection to this woman, how could she not, and is strangely reassured that she seems just as lost. She says quietly,
"So you aren't the one who kidnapped me?"
Helena shakes her head, "No, though I fear I will be the one to take you away, Emily."
"Great, another one who speaks in riddles!" Emily exclaims, exasperated, and a flash of what could be called hope crosses Helena's face.
"Another one?" she barely whispers.
"Yes, that Agent...Bering?" Emily notices Helena's eyes briefly flutter shut, and she could swear she sees a strange shimmering light around her body. "She was particularly vague and...and she looked at Dickens like...like..."
Helena grimaces briefly but it morphs into a rueful smile, "A CAT, she looked at him like he was a cat."
"Ok ladies, times up." Marcus Diamond's voice breaks their moment, and Helena surges forward, her hand stops short of touching Emily but she rushes out words of sorrow and a bizarre promise to visit Wyoming.
"I hope you do," says Emily, "Because it means we'll have escaped their clutches."
"We...." Helena starts to speak, but then in the blink of an eye she's gone, and before Emily can react to yet another strange turn of events, Marcus clamps a hand across her mouth.
She watches wide eyed as a man in a wheelchair approaches, then her right hand is spread open and a warm round disk pressed into her palm. She looks down, registers an old polished coin in her palm, before she is overwhelmed by a sudden rush of images, memories that are hers, memories that aren't. The last thing she sees before the world goes blank is Detective Bering, with earnest, green flecked eyes and a tentative smile tugging at her lips as she utters urgent, reassuring words, "You're going to be fine, Emily. I'll keep you safe."
And she knows she will be.