Orphans Beloved: "Beth Rhymes With Death…"

Summary: Like my Immortal Beloved and Sheldon Swifties bits in my Buffyverse and Sheldonverse, these are fragments and short bits, some longer…Just to fiddle with ideas, possibly forming longer tales later.

(Note-We'll see how this goes. Art gets an unexpected visit, creating unexpected complications.)

Disclaimer: No copy write infringement intended…

Toronto Metro Rail Station…

Staring at the tracks…Removing shoes…Setting down purse…

I've betrayed the finest man I've ever known…Made him compromise himself for love of me. And I've been paid back in kind…

Paul's one of them, that lying bastard…I know that now. Every word, every gesture, every move to comfort me, a lie for his Dyad bosses. And I've endangered my sisters…Not just with him, maybe letting him know I know…Helena knows who I am and who killed her only friend.

My career's shot…And even if I save it, I'm destroying Art's soul, piece by piece. He can't live with this lie, the kind of man he is. All for me…And I'm not worth it.

Besides…There's plenty of mes to stand in…I'm just a danger now to Ally and Cos. She shed her jacket and turning…

Like I said…She eyed the stunned figure before her…A version of herself in arguably the cheapest punk rock whore outfit she'd ever…

Is that?

Well, no time…

Train to catch…She stepped onto the track of the oncoming train which struck her a second later…

Dyad Institute, six months later…

"Trauma team to the operating room!" the tall figure in surgeon's gown called into the emergency intercom in the OR. The surgeon, Dr. Nealon, turning to have a nurse place a new mask on his face.

"She's losing blood fast!" "Blood pressure dropping!" "We need a trauma cart, stat!" various OR team members calling out…

He forced his way to the side of the patient on the gurney… "Rachel?" he called to the still figure…

"Doctor…" the nurse at Rachel's opposite side looked up at his anxious face. "I'm not getting…"

Alarm on the cardiac monitor…Flatline…

"NO!" Nealon cried, pushing to stand over Rachel Duncan's limp body, applying CPR after waving a nurse back…

"The team's here, doctor!" the nurse opposite cried. "Doctor?!"

He looked at her, grim rage on face…But backed away, the team moving in to begin working on the woman.

"There!" a team doctor cried, pointed to the monitor… A heartbeat…

"God…" Nealon sighed, gasping…The nurse relaxing a bit. "Get the bleeding stopped!" he raged at the trauma team. Whose leader, a famed trauma surgeon with her own hefty ego, glared at him. "Leave her to us, Doctor!" grim reply.

What?…Sudden frenzied stare from the body on the guerney …Brief and feeble attempt to rise, held back.

No…No…Let me die, Beth moaned inwardly, seeing the team about her…A nurse calling to her.

Who? She blinked…Or tried to…One eye seeming to have something…

God…You couldn't just let the damned train kill me, I have to be maimed? What the hell is in my eye? God, that hurts…

"Hey…" she gasped. "Just…Let…Me…"

"Wait…" to the team orderly about to move him back… "Rachel…" Nealon lay a gloved hand on her shoulder. "It's going to be fine…You'll be under in a moment and we'll take care of you."

"What?..." she gasped… "No…" she tried to blink again. Damn…

"Who?" she stared.

….

Three days later…

Apartment of Arthur Bell…

A worried Sarah Manning pacing… "Art, she just disappeared after the party. Left that canister and just poof…"

"Typical Helena, isn't it?" he noted, eyeing her as she frowned at him as he sat watching her.

"Things were different. She was happy to be with us. I really think she has a chance, Art. Why would she go off? After all, she already settled the score with the Proleithians."

"And then some…" Art nodded. "Maybe…" he shrugged… "Maybe she felt she'd made her peace and she had to move on, find her way somewhere?"

"She wouldn't leave me…And Kira. Unless…" Sarah twisted anxiously.

"If she thought she was a danger to you…Which she is. Or there was some past baggage she needed to deal with…Something she hasn't confided. Also typical Helena…" Art noted. Hmmn…He pondered.

"Any word on Duncan? Has your contact at Dyad been able to tell you anything?"

Sarah shook her head. "Marion's said she's had no word. Nealon's got Rachel in isolation. But she's makin' the case to remove her from her spot. And given the thing with me and Kira and her little 'accident', seems like Topside is not smilin' too bright on Ms. Duncan these days. Seems that Leekie's approach was favored and Rachel acted without authorization against him as well as me."

"Nice to have a friend in high places." Art smiled, then turned serious. "Don't trust her too far, Sarah. We still don't know for sure what her real goals here are."

"I'm not." Sarah nodded. "But I believe she loves her daughter and that gives us some leverage. She doesn't want Topside to know Charlotte survived."

"Some. Maybe, if that's true." Art, wryly. "But we've seen these people don't in general tend to place a high priority on family."

"My take is she means it…Charlotte didn't feel like a demo or an experiment. But…" Sarah sighed. "The lady has her own frame of reference…Biotech is the new God and if she thinks we threaten it, she may just feel we're not worthy to enter the brave new…" shrug. "She'll protect her own and her own interests, I'm sure. If she delivers on unseatin' Rachel, that's somethin'." She looked over to the refrigerator.

"I have sardines…" Art raised eyebrow archly.

"Bring 'em on. Maybe is genetic, yes…?" Sarah teased.

"She'll be pissed if she ever hears that phony accent…" he grinned, moving to the fridge, opening door and pulling out bowl.

"I guess…" pleading look. "I don't want to lose her, Art. Now, after all this…I've lost too many sisters, I don't want to lose her just when there's some hope for her at last. Especially if someone else had a hand here…"

She sat at his small table as he brought over two bowls and some bread and two forks.

"I'll get on it. I'm back with the force as of Monday…One bit of good news." He smiled, setting the things down. "I suppose I have your good angel to thank for that. And I don't mean the one with the accent…"grin.

"Lets hope so. Though I could deal to think Helena killed some Daniel of a flunkey bureaucrat to get you reinstated." Sarah smiled, reaching with fork to skewer several sardines. She paused, eyeing him…"They were a gift you know…At least I think so."

"The eggs?" he eyed her, taking seat. "For Alison and Cosima? Could they actually help?"

Nod… "Viable eggs if Dr. Duncan's sequence codes work and the damage to the uterus can be fixed? Yeah, so Cosima says…" Pondering… "She left them for our sisters, Art…And any others we may happen to meet. I think she was guessing, hoping they might help if any of us besides me want to try." Troubled look.

"Sounds like a partin' gift, doesn't it?" she looked at him.

…..

About 500 miles to the north…A topmost secret Royal Canadian military base…Ice Station Jaguar…

Office of the Commandant…

"Right…546A32… 'Helena', I believe you're called?" the uniformed figure in chair behind large desk, eyed a somewhat nervous…And groggy from sedation, Helena, seated in her overcoat and beret, her blonde hair rolling down and out on both sides.

"What am I doing here? Where is me sestras?" she eyed the man, heavily muscled in his clearly high-ranking uniform with large mustache…And the two hefty and heavily armed soldiers beside him.

"Did the female devil send me here? Rachel?" she explained to the puzzled stare.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to let me ask the questions here, Miss." The man insisted in clipped tones, firm stare.

"You can ask…" she shrugged, looking round.

"That's a wise sentiment. Well, then…To business." He pulled a sheet from a folder on his desk. "Are you feeling well?"

"You are doctor? Army guy doctor?" she eyed him coolly.

"I have a medical degree, yes. But my role here is more administrative. Now, how are you…?"

She gave an embarrassed look as she farted a bit loudly. "Excuse…Please."

"Digestive troubles and bloating, to be expected. Not to worry."

"Who are you?" she eyed him.

"Miss." Stern look.

"Hey, I am Canadian citizen…I have papers. I have rights." She noted.

"Forged papers, Miss…"

"Ok…" shrug. "I am Ukrainian citizen…I got more papers. Some rights."

"You are a murderess and felon, Miss. And hardly a human being worthy of 'rights' of any sort."

"Charmed to meet you, too…" she frowned.

He stared, then relaxed. "Point taken. I apologize, no need to forego the amenities if you cooperate. I am General Holcrombe, commander of the establishment here. And you, my dear…Are a…"

"Pearl beyond price…" Helena smiled demurely. "Flatter…That's nice. Listen, Generals guy. I will make deal…" she waved him over.

He leaned a bit…The soldiers watching carefully, warned by their superior, newly promoted Colonel Paul Dierden, to do so in close encounters with the subject.

"I am concerned for my babies so I will not kill you if you let me go, now…With a driver sos I and the angel don't get lost on way home, as it seems cold up here. Fair enough?" bright smile. "Staying with me sestras has done me a world of good in such things…Normally? I would killed you ten minute ago."

"Spirited…" the general chuckled, leaning back in chair. "I like that…We'll get on, Miss."

"To nearest plane, yes. Who brought me here? The Dyads? New plans for making more abominations?"

"Again with the questions…" sigh… "But…" expansive wave of hand… "If it will make matters go smoothly…No, Helena…We are not affiliated with the Dyad Institute. At least, not any more."

"Tomas? Johannesen?" careful stare.

"Nor with the Proleithians…No, we are a special branch of Her Majesty's Royal Forces. Which is all I can and will say on the matter. Best for you, really."

"So…The other half of the devil's face…Yes, Tomas knew of you…"

Stare…

"Don't be vain…" she wagged finger. "Not you specific…His people knew the Iron Bitch wanted more servants for her devil's work. He knew Prime Minister Thatcher had backed support of Professor Duncan's work." She finished, with grin.

"See, I am getting better, religious nut wise." Smile. "I must be catching sanity from my twin."

"Nice. Well, good to know you can be reasonable, Helena. Not all that surprising your Proleithian friends had some knowledge of us, though of course I can't confirm anything you say."

"Right. Well, shall we go or must I kill you?…I don't like to put my baby or babies at risk."

"My dear girl. You should be able to comprehend that you are not…" gasp, as stark Helena theme plays…The soldier guards, one a Mark clone, looking on in horror as the general, stabbed in the throat with a metal shiv Helena had made from a loose piece on the transport plane and sharpened on the floor, concealing in the shoe she'd been made to remove before passing a metal detector on her way to the general's office, was whirled round in her grip, she moving too fast for them to get off a shot.

"Ok…" she eyed the two men sternly, clutching the general, gasping in her blood-soaked grip… "So, you want your superior to live, you drop guns and sit. You, just use sock to keep pressure on wound." She told the one nearest… "Do so or general bleeds to death, unless you wish to shoot me through him? I will call help on my way…" she paused as the soldiers, responding to the general's desperate wave to drop weapons, did so…

"Do I know you?" she asked the Mark clone.

….